She hit the stairs hard, and skidded down the last few steps, and when finally she came to a full stop, she was still holding onto her phone, wondering what in the name of all that was holy had happened!
“Gran!” said Dudley, who was the first to arrive on the crash scene. “Are you all right?”
“First off, I’m not your grandmother,” she grunted. “And what are you doing there gawking at me like a dead fish? Help me up, will you?”
“Are you hurt?” asked Dudley, sounding surprised that she was still talking after taking such a tumble.
“Of course I’m not hurt,” she said annoyedly. “Takes more than an awkward landing to put a dent in this old gal.” She still checked herself for broken bones or sprains or other calamities, but the only thing that hurt was her pride. “Lucky escape,” she muttered as she slapped Dudley’s eager ministrations away.
She glanced back, wondering why she’d taken that sudden tumble. And then she saw it: the carpet runner had come loose somewhere halfway up the stairs. She gave it a closer look, and saw that the screws holding the darn thing in place had come unstuck.
“Weirdest thing,” she said as she vowed to give her son-in-law a piece of her mind.
“I better get that fixed,” said Dudley as he saw what she was looking at.
“Wasn’t like that this morning,” said Vesta. “Pretty sure it was fine then.”
“These screws can be fiddly,” said the kid. “Especially if the runner was screwed down a long time ago.”
“I’ll tell Tex to fix it.”
“Nah, don’t bother,” said Dudley. “I’ll do it.”
“Thanks,” she said grudgingly. She had to admit that the kid was all right. Not only had he been more than helpful just now, but it was obvious he wasn’t one of them lazy kids who liked to lie around on the couch all day, playing with their stupid Playstation.
“You’re welcome,” said Dudley with a big smile.
“Well, I gotta get going,” she announced, and was out the door in a flash. And as she walked back to her car, a sudden ache in her shoulder gave her pause. “Ouch!” she said, as she rubbed the sore spot. So maybe her little accident had put a dent in her.
Tex had been working nonstop all morning, seeing one patient after another. Some days were like that: the whole town population suddenly seemed to have fallen ill. And on other days it was so quiet he practically didn’t see a single patient all day.
So he was glad when suddenly Vesta came sticking her head in the door.
“Am I glad to see you!” he said. “It’s been crazy all morning!”
“I’m not here to work,” she announced. “I’m here because I just fell down the stairs and now my shoulder hurts.”
He probably should have uttered a few words of concern that the aged mother of his wife had suffered a serious accident, but instead he inwardly cursed a receptionist who never came into work, and even when she did it was only to add to his workload instead.
“Take a seat,” he said curtly, as he’d just said goodbye to Ida Baumgartner and Blanche Captor had only just gotten up from her chair in the waiting room but now sat down again with a few muttered curses under her breath when she heard Vesta’s words.
“So what happened?” he asked once Vesta had closed the door and taken a seat.
“Are you deaf? I just told you. I fell down the stairs and now my shoulder hurts.”
“What stairs? The ones at home?”
“Yeah—the runner’s come unstuck. Loose screw. The kid will fix it,” she added.
“Dudley was there when it happened?”
“Yeah. Must have heard me take a tumble and helped me up. Very sweet of him,” she added, a little begrudgingly.
“Oh, he’s a very sweet kid,” Tex agreed. “I’m very lucky with a son like that.”
“Yeah, yeah. Now are you going to take a look at my shoulder or are you going to keep flapping your gums about this so-called son of yours?”
Tex walked around his desk and invited his mother-in-law to take a seat on a little stool, then made her take off her tracksuit vest and carefully inspected the bruise on her shoulder.
“Why ‘so-called son?’” he asked. “Don’t you think Dudley is mine?”
“I don’t know, Tex,” she said. “And I’m sure once Alec runs that DNA test we’ll know more. But until we do, I’m not taking Dudley’s word for it.”
He frowned. “DNA test? What DNA test?”
“The one Marge asked Alec to run. So how is it? Am I going to live or what?”
“It’s just a bruise,” he said. “Nothing to worry about.” He was shocked to hear his wife and brother-in-law hadn’t told him about this DNA test—going behind his back like that.
“It’s this tracksuit,” said Vesta proudly. “Scarlett is always making fun of me that I like to wear these tracksuits but if she’d taken that tumble she probably wouldn’t have survived. Now are you going to give me something for the bruise? I haven’t got all day.”
So Tex prescribed his mother-in-law a cream to put on that bruise, but even as he was typing out the prescription, dark thoughts gathered in his mind—such as it was.
Chapter 31
Being locked up inside an office with one cat who seemed annoyed to be in our presence (Harriet), one cat who was anxious to get home and be near his litter box (Brutus) and one dog who had been doing nothing but eat since we got there (Rambo) isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.
And we had this mysterious cat killer to thank for it. He might not have taken our lives, but he’d certainly taken our freedom now that Odelia had decided we should stick close to either her or another member of her family until this attacker was caught.
Odelia had arranged for a large helping of dog kibble to be delivered to her office, and a (slightly less large) helping of cat kibble, and for once we all got to share one big bowl of water, but apart from that, the situation was less than ideal.
“I’d take you home but I have to finish this story,” she said when I gave her a troubled look.
She’d opened the back door, which led out onto a sort of small courtyard where we could do our business if we needed to, in the tiny patch of greenery, and amongst Dan Goory’s roses, of which he was particularly proud, but that was pretty much it.
“Here,” she said when I continued to give her less-than-happy glances, and handed me a tablet computer. “Make yourselves useful and try to figure out where I can find Charlene’s uncle’s former associate, will you? His name is Brett Cragg.”
So we gathered around the tablet computer, Brutus, Dooley and I, and started idly surfing the web, in search of a clue as to where we could find this Brett Cragg person.
He wasn’t on Facebook, though, and not on LinkedIn either, or Twitter or Instagram. In fact we didn’t find a trace of him anywhere, which made me think he was one of those rare individuals who didn’t spend their every waking hour poring over social media.
“Max?” whispered Brutus, darting a surreptitious eye at Odelia. “Maybe we can escape!”
“Escape?” I said. “Why do you want to escape? We’re safe in here. No one can get at us as long as we stay close to Odelia and Rambo.” Trading one’s safety for one’s freedom is a tough bargain, but one I’d grudgingly embraced. Not so, apparently, my friend.
“But we talked about this, Max,” he said. “We were going to recruit Clarice. She can be the one protecting us from now on. And I think she’ll probably do a better job than Rambo.”
We both cast a quick glance at the big dog, who was now snoring loudly, drool bubbling on his lips and dripping onto Odelia’s nice office carpet. He’d already eaten half a bag of dog kibble, and I had the distinct impression that second half wouldn’t last much longer either.
“All he does is sleep and eat,” said Brutus, and not unreasonably either. “I don’t think he’s cut out to be a guard dog.”