A Teeny Bit of Trouble Page 14

  An hour went by, and I decided I couldn’t stay in that house another second. I packed a bag, then I hooked a leash to Sir’s collar. I grabbed the truck keys and we walked to the barn. The old Ford rose up like a humpback whale, gray-black with white pits in the fender. I yanked open the door, and searing air curled out, stinking of oil and sour milk. Aunt Bluette had been a packrat. I pushed a rusty Thermos to the floorboard.

  “Hop in, Sir,” I said, giving him a little boost. I tossed my suitcase into the truck bed, then I climbed into the front seat. The engine turned over with a thump. Halfway to the Piggly Wiggly, I passed a wrecker that was towing a black Mazda. A graduation tassel dangled from the rearview mirror.

  Kendall’s car.

  I pulled off the road and told Sir to stay, then I scrambled out of the truck and waved both arms at the wrecker. The brakes screeched, and the driver poked his head out the window.

  “Is this Kendall McCormack’s car?” I called.

  The driver pushed back a Georgia Bulldogs cap, revealing damp red curls. “Yessum. Her Mazda’s totaled.”

  The back of my throat started to ache. “You’re sure?”

  “That it’s totaled?” The driver’s eyes widened.

  “No, are you sure it’s Kendall’s car?”

  “The police did a DMV check. The Mazda is registered to Kendall McCormack.” He made a tsking sound. “Looks like she got drunk and wrecked.”

  “Drunk?” I said. “This early in the morning? I just talked to her. She was sober.”

  The man leaned out of the tow truck’s window, the morning sun gleaming against his hair. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he’d been awake since the Eisenhower administration. “I ain’t passing judgment, Miss. I’m just repeating what I heard.”

  “How bad was she hurt?” I knotted my hand against my stomach.

  “Can’t say for sure. By the time they called for a tow, the paramedics done took the girl to the hospital.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead with a dirty hand. “When I showed up, a few responders were still here. They didn’t mention no fatalities. Maybe she got banged up?”

  I stepped toward the Mazda. “May I take a peek?”

  He looked up at the sky, his mouth twisting into a bow. While he made up his mind, the heat from the asphalt leeched through my boots, stinging my bare feet. I stamped my foot, trying to blunt the pain.

  The driver snapped to attention. “Well, I reckon it won’t hurt. Just make it quick.”

  I ran over to the Mazda. The front fender was crushed. The windshield was cracked on the driver’s side. Blood was splashed over the dashboard and the driver’s seat. She’d been hurt real bad.

  My legs wobbled, and I grabbed the door handle to keep from losing my balance. I didn’t like blood. But this wasn’t the moment to wimp out. I forced myself to take another look. I didn’t see the printout she’d mentioned. A Hello Kitty key chain dangled from the ignition. And one of those keys went to Philpot’s Pharmacy. I leaned into the car, snatched the chain, and shoved it into my pocket. I hurried back to my truck and waved at the driver, hoping he hadn’t seen what I’d done.

  The tow truck rumbled by, dragging the Mazda. I felt weak when I saw Kendall’s shattered windshield, and I buried my face against Sir. He gave me a few halfhearted licks, reminding me that the body count would rise if I didn’t get him some water.

  I drove home and put Sir in the parlor, where it was cool, then I went straight to the phone and dialed Coop. He answered on the second ring. I filled him in on Kendall’s strange call, the list of organs, her wreck, Lester’s finances, and my suspicions about Norris.

  “The printout and the wreck are mutually exclusive, Teeny. You have no proof that Barb or the Philpots were involved in illegal trafficking.”

  “For once, instead of thinking like a lawyer, can’t you think like a criminal?” I stamped my boot on the floor. “Norris lost his medical license. Lester’s drugstore is bankrupt. Barb liked jewelry. They had motives.”

  “For?”

  “To run a chop shop for human body organs. Innocent people don’t hide a price list of corneas under the bedroom rug.”

  “If there’s a list.” He paused, as if to let his words resonate. “Go to my parents’ house. I’ll try to drive back to Bonaventure tomorrow.”

  But I wasn’t going to the O’Malleys’ just yet. After Coop and I hung up, I dialed the hospital and asked the operator to page Dot Agnew. Two minutes later, a familiar voice said, “Teeny, I was just thinking about you. But I’m late for a meeting.”

  “Oh, okay. Listen, if you get a minute, will you check on a patient? She’s in Bonaventure Regional.”

  “Oh, honey. I can’t do that,” Dot said. “I can’t tell you about our patients. Hospital policy, you know. But I can put you through to the patient’s room. What’s the name?”

  “Kendall McCormick.”

  There was a slight pause. “What happened. Did Lester finally get her cherry?”

  “You know about that?”

  “Everyone in town knows. Kendall has a big mouth. Seriously, why’s she in the hospital?” Dot laughed. “Did she lose another Tampax inside her?”

  I gripped the phone. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

  “Back then, you told me everything. And I do mean everything. Oh, Teeny. Don’t be angry. I’m sorry I poked fun at the McCormick girl. I didn’t realize you all were still close.”

  “She was on her way to my house when she wrecked.” I felt swimmy-headed and propped my hand against the wall. If I hadn’t told Kendall to get proof, she wouldn’t have wrecked. But I couldn’t tell this to Dot. She’d have me slapped into a straitjacket.

  “Oh, sweetie,” Dot said. “I wish I could help. But I’d lose my job.”

  “Don’t explain. I know about rules.” I grimaced. Boy, did I ever know.

  I ran back outside to the truck. I had to see if Kendall was all right. I drove to the hospital and bought a tin of cookies in the gift shop. Chocolate chip pecan, dipped in white chocolate. A volunteer directed me to room 312.

  I stepped into the elevator, and a group of LPN students swarmed around me. The overhead speakers crackled and a nasal voice said, “Code Blue, room—”

  The doors glided shut and the voice snapped off. The students talked about a tonsillectomy. That morning, a sixteen-year-old boy had gone into cardiac arrest and died.

  The elevator dinged, and the students rushed out. Hospital personnel raced past them and disappeared around a corner. Another nurse ran by, pushing the Code Blue cart.

  The students followed the rapid-response team, and I followed the students. They stopped outside room 312. A plump, middle-aged woman was trying to push her way into the room, screaming Kendall’s name.

  A student put her arm around the woman. “Let’s go to the visitors’ waiting room, Mrs. McCormack,” the nurse said. More members of the trauma team bolted down the hall and swung into Kendall’s crowded room.

  The student led Mrs. McCormack away. I lowered my hand to my purse, feeling the outline of the Hello Kitty key chain. If I gave them to Kendall’s mother, the memento would push her over the edge. The poor woman was already in shock.

  I was feeling pretty stunned myself. Pictures of the Mazda’s shattered windshield kept flying through my head like bits of glass. My hands shook so much, the cookies rattled inside the tin. I made up a new recipe called Please-Don’t-Die Peach Vinegar. Take a cup of chopped peaches and add white wine vinegar. Strain through cheesecloth, over and over until the liquid is clear; pour it into sterilized jars. Add a cinnamon stick to each jar and put them in the fridge. Steep two weeks. Remind yourself that anything can turn bitter. All it takes is time and coldness.

  I walked back to the elevator in a daze. The metal doors slid open, and Son Finnegan stepped out.

  sixteen

  Son’s eyes widened when he saw me. His shoulders went back, and he stood even taller, adding three inches to his height. He adjusted his lab coat. A stethoscope was coi
led in his pocket like a garden snake. Pinned to his collar was a button that read: BEST DOCTOR OF THE YEAR, THE ENTERPRISE.

  “We keep running into each other.” He grinned. “It’s fate.”

  “I just came to see Kendall McCormack.” I glanced over my shoulder. “But a trauma team went into her room. Can you find out what happened?”

  “And violate patient confidentiality?”

  I pointed to his button. “You think rules exist for people who like rules.”

  “You’ve got a point. But let’s talk in my office.” He steered me past the nurses’ station into a storage closet. IV poles rattled as we squeezed into the tiny space. He shut the door and leaned against it.

  “Nice office,” I said. “The medical décor is spot on.”

  “Your boots are the perfect accessory.” He pushed away from the door. “God, you’re beautiful. Your eyes are still the color of Irish whiskey. And when you’re thinking hard, they widen a little, and—”

  “Can you find out if Kendall’s going to live or die?”

  “Sure. On one condition. Have dinner with me tonight.”

  “You know I can’t.”

  “I’m asking you to dinner, not an orgy.”

  “I’d feel safer at an orgy.” An image flickered behind my eyes, Son and me rolling together in the orchard, our bodies slick with dew and sweat.

  “What are you scared of, Boots?”

  “Rats and bees,” I said, silently adding, Norris, Lester, Irene O’Malley. Son Finnegan.

  “Stay here and think about dinner,” he said. “I’ll check on the Code Blue.”

  After he left, I sat on the floor and pressed my forehead against the cookie tin. I hadn’t told Coop everything about me and Son. Not that it was a disgrace. In my whole life, I’d had four lovers. That might sound like a lot until you compared it to other things. Would you only try on four pairs of shoes in your whole life? Would you only eat four Lindt Truffles?

  A long while later the door opened, bringing in a gush of cold, medicinal air, along with Son Finnegan.

  “Kendall was admitted this afternoon with a concussion and a scalp laceration,” he said. “All tests were negative. No skull fracture. No intracranial bleeding. But she had a blood alcohol of .12.”

  “Is that high?”

  “Yeah. According to the nurse’s notes, she was talking crazy. But she was alive. Twenty minutes later, the patient’s mother went to the cafeteria, and while she was gone, a nurse stopped in the patient’s room to take her blood pressure. The patient was unresponsive. The nurse called a code. I guess that’s when you walked up.”

  “But I talked to Kendall before the accident. She didn’t sound drunk.”

  “A blood alcohol level doesn’t lie.” He helped me to my feet, and I handed him the cookie tin.

  “There’s more, Teeny. Your friend’s not going to make it. The docs are working hard, but they can’t get a heartbeat. There’s no telling how long she went without oxygen. She’s probably got massive brain damage.”

  I felt light-headed and forced myself to breathe through my nose. “Why would Kendall have coded in the first place? She’s young and healthy.”

  “A small bleed might not have shown on the CT. Or the radiologist could’ve missed it.”

  “What would a small bleed do?” I asked.

  “The brain would swell. And the pressure would kink off the arteries that feed the brain. The patient would stop breathing and go into cardiac arrest.”

  “I’d hate to be a patient here.”

  “Why?”

  “Too many people are dying. I heard the nursing students talking about a botched tonsillectomy. A sixteen-year-old boy died.”

  “It’s a hospital, Teeny. Bad shit happens.” His forehead puckered. “Last week I lost a twenty-two-year-old patient. She sailed through the breast augmentation. Nurses found her dead during a routine vital sign check. Cold and blue. Pupils fixed and dilated.”

  “What killed her?”

  “The post showed zip. I’ve lost two other patients. Both were young women. But I’ll explain everything over dinner.”

  I shook my head. “Coop and I are together.”

  He glanced at my left hand. “I don’t see an engagement ring.”

  I lifted the necklace.

  Son peered down at the diamond. “No wonder you’ve got it on a chain. That ring would fit Sasquatch.”

  “It’s a family heirloom.”

  “Cooter’s too cheap to buy you a ring that fits?”

  “Coop, not Cooter.”

  “We ought to talk about this so-called engagement. If you’re afraid to be seen in public with me, I’ll bring dinner to your house.”

  “I’m staying with Coop’s parents.”

  He drummed his fingers on the cookie tin. “Oh, come on. One chicken dinner won’t kill you. It’ll be strictly business. Cooter head won’t know.”

  “But I will.”

  “You’re still attracted to me.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Then why are your nipples hard?” He lifted one hand from the tin and pointed to my blouse.

  I glanced down. Two hard nubs jutted against the cotton fabric. I pushed past him, flung open the door, and rushed into the hall.

  “Teeny, wait!”

  I bolted down the stairs, out the front door, into the hospital parking lot. Heat waved over the pavement, distorting the cars. A white van sped by. Black letters were written on the van’s side: BIOSTRUCTURES.

  I climbed into my truck. The steering wheel burned my palms and I let go. Dammit, I had no business coming to the hospital. And I’d made things worse by asking for Son’s help.

  First things first. Get out of the parking lot. I rooted under the seat, found a pair of socks, and pulled them over my hands. Then I started the engine and drove to the Square. My plan was to talk to the woman at Baskin-Robbins. Maybe she knew something about Norris. Something that could link him to Barb. Because I felt certain that they’d been selling body parts.

  I was a sweaty mess by the time I stepped into Baskin-Robbins. The frosty air felt good, rippling over my hair. A young, brown-eyed woman stood behind the glass counter, running a damp cloth around the ice-cream bins, her hairnet bulging with dreadlocks. She looked to be in her early twenties, close to Kendall’s age.

  “Get you anything?” she asked me.

  “I’m looking for Zee Quinn.”

  “I’m her. What’s up?”

  I stared at the glass case, as if my thoughts were on ice cream rather than the illegal sale of corneas. “Got anything low cal, Zee?”

  “Not much.” She laughed, and her dark eyes swept over me. “How about a smoothie?”

  “I’m allergic.” I patted my hips. “I break out in fat.”

  “Girl, you ain’t big. Get you a Peach Passion Banana. It’s made with fat-free vanilla yogurt.”

  “Sold.”

  Her smile widened, showing a slightly crooked front tooth. “You won’t be sorry.”

  While she made the smoothie, I ran through options. I could get to the point and ask if Norris was a homicidal maniac, but Zee didn’t know me. She might not talk.

  “Kendall McCormack told me to look you up,” I said.

  “Yeah?”

  I leaned over the counter. “She said you might help me.”

  “With what?”

  “Norris Philpot.”

  Zee’s hand shook as she set my smoothie on the counter. “That’ll be $9.44.”

  I looked up at the menu. “Um, I thought a large smoothie was $4.99.”

  “When I get upset, my dyslexia gets stirred up. Plus, I forgot to add tax.”

  I handed her a five-dollar bill and change. “I had a little incident with Norris.”

  Zee’s gaze sharpened. “What’d he do to you?”

  “He asked me on a date. He was very persistent, but I turned him down.”

  “Smart move on your part.”

  “Kendall told me that you had a run-in
with him.”

  Zee stared at me a long moment. “Why do you care?”

  “Because I’m a little freaked out. Is he dangerous?”

  She looked over her shoulder. “Lucy, watch the counter for me. I’m taking a break.” Zee turned around, her hairnet shaking. “Meet me outside.”

  I plucked napkins from the box and hurried out the door. She stood beside a stone picnic table, her arms crossed. “Girl, I’m going to tell you something, and you can’t tell anyone. Not your mother or your daddy or your best friend.”

  “Don’t have any of those. But I can keep my mouth shut.”

  “Okay, then.” She folded her arms. “A year ago, I was helping my auntie clean her garage. I got a splinter in my eye. She took me to Dr. Philpot. He had a fancy office with a surgery room. He put me to sleep. When I woke up, a tiny white dick was in my hand. And the dick belonged to Dr. Philpot.”

  I opened my mouth. Chu-chu sounds came out of my throat.

  “At first, I thought I was having some sort of drug-induced nightmare.” Zee spat on the pavement. “Then he started moving my hand. I don’t have to tell you the rest.”

  “Did you confront him?”

  Her eyes filled. “I should’ve broke that ding-dong in two. But I just lay there, pretending to sleep. Let him do his thing. From what I hear, it could’ve been worse.”

  “He raped a woman, didn’t he?” I dabbed a napkin over my face.

  “The police didn’t do nothing about it.”

  “Pervert. I think he broke into my house.” I told her about my cell phone, the gardenias, and my soiled nightgown.

  She wiped her eyes. “That sick mutherfucker.”

  She spat again. “You’ll be all right. Don’t let his skinny white ass get near you.”

  That sounded like a good plan. She went back inside. I carried my smoothie around the corner, into the shady arcade. I dropped coins in the pay phone and told the operator I wanted to make a collect call to Coop O’Malley. You’d think I’d asked for a year’s supply of free martinis. I was pouring sweat when she finally put me through. Coop accepted the charges.