“I think my dad is pretty much everybody’s doctor,” said Odelia.
“He’s a good one, though. Got me some of those patches for my chest pains.” He slapped his chest. “Been feeling like a new man ever since. Real miracle cure, Miss Poole.”
“Odelia. And I’m glad my dad could help you out, Mr. Potbelly.”
“Geary,” he said with a grin that displayed two rows of nicotine-stained teeth. “So what can I do you for?”
“You can help us understand how a tanker full of your duck poop ended up all the way out at Dick Dickerson’s place.”
He scratched his scalp. “Well, sir, like I told you over the phone, one of our tankers got stolen last night, along with one of our tractors. So that might explain things.”
“Any idea who could have taken them?”
“Nope. Must have happened sometime after midnight, though, cause my youngest one just got back from checking on the ducklings in the hatchery and he says the tanker was still there when he did.”
“He’s sure about that?”
“Absolutely. That thing’s an eyesore, and he would have noticed if it was gone.”
“So walk us through this, Geary. Someone got onto your property and took off with a tractor and a tanker. How is that possible?”
“We sleep all the way out there,” said Geary, pointing to the west. “The entire family lives on the perimeter, in houses we built ourselves. Five generations of Potbellies have lived there and still do, so we don’t hear what goes on up here at night.”
“Don’t you have guard dogs? A fence? Security?”
“We have a fence, but they took out an entire section. Professional job, too. When my son told me I thought they’d come for the ducks. We were surprised they’d taken the tanker. Couldn’t imagine what they wanted with nine thousand gallons of duck poop.”
“Now we know,” said Chase grimly.
“We have a couple dogs, too, but I guess those sneak thieves must have managed to get past them.” He grunted. “At least they didn’t hurt them. Those dogs are like family.”
“So no cameras, huh?” asked Odelia.
“Potbelly Farm isn’t the Chase Manhattan or Tiffany’s, Odelia. We’ve had a few break-ins over the years but nothing major. The fence is more to keep the deer out and the ducks in than anything else. The rest is up to the dogs, and usually they’re enough of a deterrent. But the visitors we had last night were something else. Real pros, if you ask me.”
Chapter 10
Grandma was huffing a little by the time she reached the doctor’s office. It was only a short walk from the house but still. She was seventy-five, not twenty-five, and even when she was twenty-five working out wasn’t the hype it had become later on. Oh, she’d bought those tapes Jane Fonda had put out in the eighties. She’d even bought herself some of those funky leg warmers Jane was so nuts about, and those colorful leotards. But the workouts looked too strenuous even then, and she’d never gotten into them the way Victoria Principal or Linda Evans did. Or even that hot John Travolta in Perfect. Now there was a fine man.
She crossed the street on a huff. She’d prepared her little speech and Tex was gonna get it now. How she’d been waiting and waiting for him to apologize and how it was starting to look like she’d be waiting until she was dead and buried before he finally came round.
She opened the door and walked into the waiting room that had been her domain until a few weeks ago. When she walked up to the desk her jaw dropped when she caught sight of the woman seated behind it. Seated in her chair, behind her desk, in her exact spot!
None other than Scarlett Canyon herself was staring back at her, giving her that impudent look she was famous for. Not a day younger than Vesta herself, Scarlett nevertheless looked younger, thanks to the numerous procedures she’d undergone. Her boob lift-slash-enhancement especially had cemented her reputation with the senior center’s male membership, but her face, too, had been extensively worked on, her eyes now resembling a cat’s eyes and her lips plumped up way beyond what was esthetically pleasing.
Then again, with boobs like that, what hot-blooded male cared about the face?
“Scarlett,” Vesta said curtly. “Patients are supposed to wait in the waiting room.”
“I’m not here as a patient, Vesta,” said Scarlett, tapping a single long nail on the keyboard spacebar. “I work here now.”
Vesta’s jaw dropped a few inches. “Work here? What do you mean, work here?!”
“I heard you abandoned poor Tex and how he was desperate for a new receptionist, so I volunteered.” She smiled widely, or at least as widely as her collagen-filled lips would allow. “And I have to tell you, I love it, Vesta. I don’t understand why you quit.”
“Don’t you mind why I quit. That’s my chair, Scarlett, and that’s my desk, and that’s my computer. So you better walk out of here now, or I’ll have you thrown out so fast not even those implants of yours will be able to break your fall when you hit the pavement.”
A cough sounded behind her, and she whipped her head around. Half a dozen people were seated in the waiting area, following the altercation with rapt attention. She didn’t mind. Scarlett was going to get what was coming to her and she didn’t care who heard it.
“Are you threatening me with violence, Vesta?” asked Scarlett, bringing a shocked hand to her chest.
“If you don’t clear out of here I’m kicking your enhanced booty so hard those butt implants will end up dangling behind your ears. And that’s not a threat—that’s a promise!”
Scarlett rose and jutted out her butt. “For your information, this booty is all-natural, just like my boobies,” she said, a noticeable purr in her voice. “Unlike your bony butt and your flat chest, Vesta dear.” She even had the gall to flash her eyebrows at her!
“That’s it,” Vesta snapped. “I’m coming for you, Scarlett.”
And she would have mounted that desk, sciatica or no sciatica, and given Scarlett a piece of her mind, when Tex’s door opened and the doctor himself came walking in.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded.
With his shock of white hair and his kind face Tex Poole reminded some people of Dick Van Dyke when he was solving murders as Dr. Mark Sloan on Diagnosis: Murder. Now, though, he looked more like a masked avenger, without the mask, as he stepped up to his mother-in-law, and took her arm in a firm grip, then took Scarlett’s arm in an equally firm grip, and dragged the two women apart.
“What the cuss do you think you’re doing, Vesta?” he said. “Barging in here and threatening my receptionist with bodily harm?”
“She took my place!” Vesta croaked. “And on top of that she insulted me!”
“All I said was that you are very slim, Vesta,” said Scarlett coyly. “I was paying you a compliment. I really was, Dr. Tex.”
Tex was looking grim. “I don’t get it, Vesta. First you quit on me and now you attack the woman who was so kind to step up and offer her help when she saw I was struggling?”
“Oh, she was offering to help, all right,” said Vesta. “Though I’m not sure my daughter would appreciate the kind of help Scarlett has to offer!”
Tex had the decency to blush. “Now, Vesta, you know that’s nonsense talk.”
“Filthy gossip, that’s what it is,” said Scarlett. “And mean-spirited, too.”
“I’ll give you mean-spirited,” Vesta growled, and tried to poke her nemesis in the fake nose. She never got close, for Tex was still acting like a buffer between the two women.
“Now, now, Vesta,” he was saying in that horribly soothing doctor’s voice of his. “Calm down.”
“Oh, all right,” said Vesta, shaking off Tex’s hand. “I’m going already. But I’m warning you,” she spat in Scarlett’s direction. “This is not the end.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t expect it to be, Vesta, dear,” said Scarlett sweetly.