Лори Касс - Gone With The Whisker

I’d been long asleep by that time, but an hour earlier, Ash stopped by the houseboat to give me an update. He’d looked exhausted but satisfied, and what he’d told Kate and me had made the final pieces of the puzzle click into place.

“Courtney is a home health aide,” I said, adding jam to a piece of buttered toast. “She’s been stealing pills, a little bit at a time, from her clients. Just one or two at a time. Small amounts so you’d think you dropped one, or accidentally took a double dose.”

She encouraged that, too, Ash had said. If a client mentioned missing medication, Courtney would look all concerned and mention that the client had forgotten something just the other day, and had the doctor checked for signs of senility?

Ash’s face had hardened. “Ms. Drew laughed,” he’d said. “Said old people are so easy to take advantage of. All you have to do is scare them a little and they’re putty in your hands.”

“There’s more,” Kate said, glancing at me. I was busy getting the right ratio of maple syrup to pecan pancakes, so I nodded and she continued. “Courtney is apparently well known within her company for lending a hand with end-of-life care. A lot of people don’t want to do that, but she was always volunteering.”

Otto sighed. “And pocketing all those medications instead of disposing of them properly.”

“When did Luke Cagan come into it?” Aunt Frances asked.

I swallowed a spoonful of raspberries. “They’ve known each other since they were kids, so it’s hard to say. The shed was on property owned by Luke’s uncle on his mom’s side, and the uncle is only there during deer hunting season.”

Aunt Frances nudged the bacon in Kate’s direction. “So the uncle wouldn’t know a thing.”

“Yep. The shed was originally a sugar shack, but no one in the family has made maple syrup for years.” I eyed the stack of sourdough toast and reached for another piece. “According to Courtney, Luke kept pushing her to steal more and more medications because he wanted to go on guided hunting trips all over the world.” I considered jam options. “Of course, Luke said Courtney was the one who was pushing him to get better prices because she wanted to buy a house on Lake Mitchell.”

The sadness of the entire saga had weighed heavily on me when Ash had described it. However, coffee, good food, and even better company were combining to push back the darkness, and my spirits were on the upswing.

“I’m still struggling with the why of it,” Otto said. “Not the drugs, that I understand. It’s the murders.”

“That’s what was so confusing,” I said. “Nicole, from her back pain, had ended up with an addiction to opioids, and she’d found an Up North supply courtesy of Courtney and Luke. They often sold their pills out on Brown’s Road, right where the bookmobile stopped that day, not far from Rex’s house.”

Otto nodded slowly. “And Rex saw an exchange?”

“With Nicole, on the Fourth of July.” Not that Luke was confessing to the murder, but now that his handgun was in evidence, there’d be a ballistics test. “That last day on the bookmobile, Nicole had stayed late on our stop because she’d wanted to connect with Courtney to get more pills. They set up a purchase on the Fourth of July. Rex had wanted to explore more of that road on his bike, and he went back on the Fourth. He saw Nicole with Courtney, and he stopped to talk.”

“So sad,” Otto said.

“But why didn’t Rex tell anyone?” Aunt Frances asked. “If I’d seen a drug deal, the first thing I’d do is call the police. Did he even tell his wife?”

“No,” I said. “But Rex confronted them, right on the spot. And Courtney and Luke and Nicole spun some story that apparently Rex said he’d believed. And maybe he was going to tell the police the next day.”

“What about Nicole?” Otto asked. “Why on earth did they kill her?”

“Different reason altogether.” I ate a bite of marmalade-laden toast. “She had to be downstate for some family things after the Fourth of July and didn’t hear about Rex’s murder right away. When she did, she figured straight off that Courtney and Luke had killed him.”

I put down my toast and spoke quietly. “Nicole was using Rex’s murder as a way to get free pills.”

Aunt Frances reached over and squeezed my hand. “Addiction is a horrible thing, my dear. We can only hope that someday there will be a better way to cure it.”

I nodded agreement and tried to focus on breakfast.

It had been thanks to my own big mouth that day at Rupert and Ann Marie’s house, that Courtney had known I was curious about Rex Stuhler’s murder. Which explained why she and Luke wanted me out of the picture, and probably explained the air conditioner episode, but the timing didn’t work for my fall into the street, so maybe that had been an accident after all. And it had turned out that neither one of them had known of Violet or Julia’s existence, a fact for which I was extremely grateful.

Ash had also followed up on the other information I’d passed along. What he’d seen that day on his phone was that Violet had a criminal history. It was a college shoplifting prank, done on a dare during sorority pledge week, but she attributed all the things that had gone wrong with her life to that single episode.

“She plays the victim card like a champ,” Ash had said, shaking his head. “Not at all like Mason Hiller.”

Turns out that Mason had intentionally shorted customers on their change on July 3 because he’d just got the news that he needed to purchase new gas tanks to stay in compliance with some new state regulations. He’d come to his senses the next day, had already paid the people back, and was trying to find a second job to afford the hideously expensive tanks.

“So it’s all over?” Aunt Frances asked.

“Mostly,” I said. “Hal Inwood and Ash are trying to track down the people who were buying from Luke and Courtney.” I had no idea what crime they might be charged with, but Ash had seemed determined to follow the trail wherever it might lead.

Rafe held up the coffee carafe. I smiled at him gratefully, and stood to pick up my newly filled mug. “Aunt Frances,” I asked, “would you mind coming out on the porch with me a minute? I want you to see something.”

My aunt gave cleaning-up directions to the men, grabbed her own coffee mug, and followed me outside, trailed by Kate, who’d opted for two generations of aunts instead of kitchen chores.

“Can I sit?” Aunt Frances asked, a smile quirking up one side of her mouth.

“Sure. This might take a few minutes.”

The three of us settled down, Aunt Frances and Kate on the cushioned love seat facing the street, me on a rocking chair. It was late morning with a glorious blue sky above; birds were singing, the sun was shining, people were out and about. I breathed deep of the fresh air and thought grateful thoughts.

Last night Kate and I had come far too close to death, and it would likely change both of us in ways we now couldn’t imagine. Upon my insistence, she’d called her parents before she’d gone to sleep and she’d tearfully told them the entire story. My brother had sighed and said something along the lines of, “I suppose all’s well that ends well.” Jennifer had cried, but not for very long, and she’d laughed when Kate had said she’d have the best ever “What I Did on My Summer Vacation” essay when school started.

“Nice morning,” Aunt Frances said. “But what are we doing out here?”

I used my tiptoes and started my chair rocking. “Waiting.”

“For what?”

Partly for an opportunity to fit Florida’s state motto of “In God We Trust” into the conversation. “Just waiting.” I nodded in the direction of her coffee. “All will be revealed before that gets cold.” At least I hoped so.