The Perils of Peaches (Scents of Murder Book 3) Page 3

  All I knew is that when I’d seen her enter our church, besides the fact she looked different from the majority of us in Greenburg, is that she looked like someone who needed a friend. She’d hugged a crisp new-looking Bible and seemed like she hugged some secrets too.

  The gas drops, a wonderful invention, waited for us in the cabinet near the sink. Once I managed to get a few drops into Hannah, I set her in the playpen in the corner of the kitchen. The crock-pot on the counter needed my attention. I’d finally dragged the thing out of the cabinet and started using it once my schedule got crazy. Now Ben needed to sample my homemade beef stew that had simmered most of the day.

  “Just you wait, Hannah Banana.” I smiled at my daughter. My heart swelled again, and the memory of Dr. Bradley’s caustic manner faded.

  A snore blared into the kitchen. That figured. Another night of Ben dozing off before dinner. Sometimes I wanted him to close Honey’s Place down, even though the restaurant we’d inherited made it out of probate and was finally making money again.

  Two years ago, Ben had inherited the restaurant from the notorious Honey Haggerty, who’d been murdered. Honey’s sister had threatened to sue us into tomorrow to get the restaurant for herself. But then she hit the Powerball numbers—over 100 million dollars—and she started an around the world trip she still hadn’t come home from. One hundred million dollars definitely outshined a small-town diner that needed a new roof and a repaved parking lot.

  Roland Thacker, local business mogul, could probably afford to buy the restaurant. The guy loved real estate. Maybe someday I’d convince Ben to sell. I glanced at Hannah, who crept around the edge of the playpen. If Ben missed her first steps because of working long hours…well, Momma was right when she said you couldn’t get moments back.

  I sighed and took down a pair of bowls from the cabinet. I’d take my beef stew to the computer, along with Hannah, so I could work through Barkha’s dictation files. Dr. Bradley’s reports could wait until Monday morning because I had no intention of making another trip into the lion’s den to fetch them. Let him growl.

  “Impression: Allergic rhinitis and sinusitis. Plan: Amoxicillin five hundred milligrams …” Barkha’s voice came over the tape, and my fingers moved over the keyboard as I typed her words. Wait. Had I just zoned out? I replayed the last few seconds of the digital sound file, and tried not to yawn while I listened to the medical report. Trudy from the coffee shop had gone to the doctor about her sniffles, and sure enough, she had a sinus infection. Barkha had seen her as a favor to Dr. Bradley, who’d been swamped with a rash of sniffles and summer colds.

  The idea of typing reports for both doctors of Bradley Medical Group was that I could spend time at home with Hannah and get paid for it. Already I’d stopped to feed her again, and kiss Ben when he ambled to bed. The thought of crawling between the sheets and drifting off to oblivion appealed to me. But I had still had peaches to peel. The cycle never ended.

  I sighed and saved the finished report on my computer before printing it. Enough for now. The hands of the clock crawled toward eleven.

  One of the things I’d agreed to when I decided to work for the Doctors Bradley and Mukherjee was confidentiality. I knew who had hemorrhoids, and who’d cheated on someone and had to go to the doctor as a consequence. The thought of Greenburg’s secrets being played out on sound files made me shiver sometimes.

  The ringing phone made me jump. I ran to answer it, so Hannah wouldn’t wake again. When she had a colicky night, her restless sleep made her prone to wake at just about anything, even the tag on Spot’s collar jingling as she headed down the hall on a midnight prowl.

  Bradley Medical displayed on the caller ID. I snatched up the phone.

  “Andi, it’s Barkha. Something’s happened at the office. Jerry is here, but I wanted to call you, too.” Her voice sounded infinitely weary.

  “What happened? Was there a breakin??”

  “Hiram was still here. I … I stopped by because I saw lights on. He was unconscious at his desk, the back door ajar.” She barely whispered the words.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “You don’t have to …”

  “It’s not a problem.” Barkha hadn’t asked me to come, but I heard her unspoken request. “Hannah’s already down for the night.”

  Within my promised fifteen minutes, I arrived at the medical office parking lot, which now contained an ambulance, Jerry’s squad car, and several vehicles. I parked as out of the way as I could, and tried to sneak along the sidewalk.

  Jerry caught me before I reached the glass front door “You don’t need to be here.”

  “Barkha called me.”

  “You’re as relentless as that reporter from the Greenburg Dispatch.”

  “Ouch, Jer. That hurts.” I couldn’t help it if I was naturally curious. I’d helped my brother-in-law in the past with two, no three, murder investigations. Not that this was murder, of course.

  I watched as two EMTs wheeled the unconscious Dr. Bradley toward the waiting ambulance. They had what looked like a monitor and an oxygen mask strapped to him. Eunice hovered beside the gurney. She murmured and clutched Dr. Bradley’s hand, as if oblivious to the rest of us watching. The older woman was a kind soul, but I doubt Dr. Bradley would allow her to be so familiar with him if he were conscious.

  “I sure hope he’ll be okay.” Despite my personal feelings about his demeanor, I certainly didn’t want the man hurt like this.

  Jerry frowned. “Seems like he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “I know you’ve got stuff to do. I’ll just go talk to Barkha.”

  “Oh, no you won’t. This is a crime scene, and sister-in-law or not, I’m not goin’ to let you hop across that crime scene line and mess up any evidence.”

  Barkha came outside and joined us, where I waited a respectful distance from the ambulance. “Andi, you’re here.” She gripped her stethoscope in one hand.

  “I’ll leave you two to talk. But, Bar—um, Dr. Mukherjee, don’t leave yet. I have more questions for you.” Jerry went to talk to the crime team inside doing their job.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Barkha said aloud.

  “Why are you so worried? I mean, of course you’re concerned for Dr. Bradley.”

  The ambulance lights flickered off the building and parked vehicles, as well as the worry in Barkha’s eyes. “This whole breakin scenario doesn’t feel right to me. We don’t carry the kind of medications people would break in for. Well, not in any quantity that they could make a profit with on the street.”

  “Like narcotics?”

  Barkha nodded. “We carry a few sedatives to help calm patients. And a small quantity of morphine, oxycodone. Hiram doesn’t keep a large amount in the locker.”

  I glanced toward the bright lights of the office. “I see what you mean. Someone could have easily seen his vehicle at the back entrance of the building. Maybe even a light from an office.”

  “You’re right.” Barkha rubbed between her eyebrows where a worry line had started to bloom.

  “What’s wrong with him? Do you think someone hurt him during the breakin?”

  She paused, as if she considered her words carefully. “I don’t think so, at this point. He had no obvious signs of trauma—no wounds, no contusions that I could see, or any lumps on the head. His breathing was shallow, and he was unresponsive. His BP was low. EMS arrived before I could really do more of an assessment.”

  “So, you weren’t at home and got a call about the breakin?” Her farmhouse was a mile or so out of town, but our house was even farther away.

  “No, I wasn’t.” Barkha’s gaze flicked to the front door. Jerry had just exited and was heading in our direction. “I’d gone for a drive to clear my head.”

  “Why? What happened??”

  She shook her head. “I wrote up my resignation from Bradley Medical, then threw it away.”

  “What?” Resignation? She was leaving?

&nb
sp; “I know. I didn’t want to tell you or your family just yet. But I’ve been thinking of moving back to Atlanta. I feel like I’ve been running for so long.” She frowned. “Except …”

  “Except?”

  “I love Greenburg, and I love caring for its people. I love my church, and my adopted families, the Clarks and the Hartleys …” She stopped when Jerry reached us.

  “Then why—”

  Barkha’s look made me stop talking. Was it Jerry? Why else would she leave? Tushar had gotten to her. That had to be the explanation.

  “Did you talk to Dr. Gupta?”

  “I … I can’t talk about it right now.” She crossed her arms in front of her.

  Okay. Fair enough. “You found him unconscious, then called EMS?”

  Barkha nodded. “Like I said, I saw a light on. Usually we don’t work this late, so I assumed someone left a light on. It happens.”

  “So, we’re back around again to where we are right now.” I stifled a yawn. “I wonder if anyone else saw anything? Did you anyone driving away or on foot?”

  Jerry glanced from me to Barkha, then to me again. “I need to talk to Dr. Mukherjee here.”

  “Take care.” I touched Barkha’s shoulder, and she squeezed my arm. “Call me if you need anything.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered. “I’ll see you at church.”

  The day’s events followed me home as I drove along the moonlit road. Tushar showing up at Barkha’s house. The strained lunch between Barkha and Dr. Bradley. Dr. Bradley’s barbs that still stung where they’d pricked. Ben falling asleep on me. Me trying to type. And then the phone call. Dr. Bradley on a stretcher.

  I prayed about the situation, although I wasn’t sure exactly what to pray for besides Dr. Bradley’s health. When I turned into our driveway and saw the lights of home waiting, my heart swelled in thanks.

  Once inside the silent kitchen, I hung my keys on the rack. The only sound was wisps of wind coming through the open window over the sink. I might as well finish Barkha’s dictation before turning in. Sleep would be a stranger tonight, and I didn’t want my tossing and turning to wake Ben. If it were any other evening, I’d be tempted to wake him right away and share the news. But I heard his snore filtering down the hallway.

  Of course, I had to pause at the nursery to check on my sleeping beauty. The light from the hallway made a faint yellow glow that fell over her crib. Hannah stirred, sucking on one of her fists. Then I saw the familiar grimace, frown, and furrowed brow. The intake of breath and red face.

  She started to wail before I picked her up. Teething. She had to be, as much as she’d drooled on the mattress pad. “Sweet pea, do your gums hurt?” I ran my finger over her budding gums. Sure enough. “Let’s get you something to chew on.”

  I carried Hannah to the kitchen to find her chewy-bunny in the freezer. Her wails echoed in the room. A few minutes later, I had her settled in her crib, her gums coated with numbing gel. She sucked on the chewy-bunny. My eyelids sagged. I couldn’t type tonight. Instead, I decided to shower before collapsing into bed. I put the kettle on for a cup of tea and went to shower.

  The ringing phone called me from my watery retreat. I yanked on my robe, wrapped a towel around my hair, and left a stream from the bathroom to the kitchen.

  I glanced at the caller ID. Barkha’s cell phone.

  “Sorry to call so late again.” The sounds of busy people in a hallway echoed in the background. “I’m at the hospital.”

  “Is it Dr. Bradley?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Barkha said. “He just passed away about fifteen minutes ago. His … his organs just … shut down.”

  “Oh, that’s horrible.” I shivered at the breeze coming in through the window. “And that means whoever broke into the office could be guilty of murder.”

  Murder in Greenburg. And those closest to a murder victim usually found themselves at the top of the suspect list.

  Chapter Three

  When something big happened, Momma tended to cook big, too. During Sunday dinner, we plowed into the comfort food spread across my parents’ dinner table and on top of the kitchen counter. Everyone except Barkha. She picked at her fried chicken, and barely touched her fried green tomatoes.

  I tried to follow Barkha’s lead, especially since those last few pregnancy pounds still clung to me. Jerry’s place at the table was glaringly empty. The investigation claimed all of his attention at the moment, as it should.

  Daddy led us all in prayer, for Dr. Bradley’s family, for the medical practice and its patients, and for Barkha. When he closed, two tears glistened on her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry.” She dashed her tears away. “Could you please add one more thing to your prayer list? Someone from my past has come back, and I don’t know what to do. I love my family. I really miss them, but my faith and theirs don’t mix.”

  “I know your momma must love you, no matter what. You’re her daughter.” Momma patted Barkha’s hand. “I imagine it must have hurt them, knowing you’ve become a Christian. But you can still honor her.”

  Barkha sighed. “I don’t know how. I try. But to my parents, being Hindu is part of who they are, who they’ve been, like countless of our family before us. I don’t think they understand. I can’t accept those beliefs anymore. To them, when I rejected Hinduism, I rejected them too. And now Tushar is here, trying to remind me of everything I left behind.”

  She’d explained about Tushar earlier. Evidently he’d booked a hotel room in town; it sounded like he was staying in Greenburg until he convinced Barkha to return Atlanta with him.

  “But he doesn’t have that much time off available.” Barkha set her jaw. “If I ever debated about leaving Greenburg, Tushar’s efforts have helped me decide. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here.”

  Ben squeezed my hand as he spoke. “We’ll be here for you, Dr. Mukherjee.” Ben still hadn’t brought himself to call her by her first name. “Jerry’s going to do all he can to find out who’s responsible for Dr. Bradley’s death. And we’ve got a town full of people who want you to stay.”

  “I know Jerry will save the day. He’s relentless.” For the first time that day, she smiled at us. I sure wished Jerry had been there to see it.

  He’s her hero. I grinned at the thought until Ben nudged my foot under the table with his own, as if he knew what I’d been thinking. No, I wasn’t matchmaking. But maybe through this investigation, the two of them would grow closer.

  Before we left, I invited Barkha to come for supper on Wednesday. Maybe then she’d share some of her load. Because no one should have to carry her troubles alone.

  On Monday morning, the offices of Bradley Medical remained closed. I called the main number and the voice mail picked up right away, Eunice’s message stating that Bradley Medical would remain closed until further notice.

  I headed for the office instead, without Hannah. Momma had insisted on watching her for the day. Part of me felt a little freer, and the other part felt guilty for even thinking that way.

  Maybe Jerry would let me in the office, at least to fetch Dr. Bradley’s recordings. If he was working late the other night, he was likely finishing work on some charts. And maybe, just maybe, if Dr. Bradley was dictating, the breakin was captured on the recording.

  Sure enough, a pair of squad cars, plus Jerry’s vehicle, waited in the parking lot. Yellow crime scene tape blocked the front doorway, and I imagined the back door was blocked in a similar manner, especially since that was the door where the intruder entered.

  I knocked on the glass door. “Hey, Jer—? Hello?” I squinted inside. Jerry watched a pair of officers working to process the room. He jerked his head in my direction, gave a short nod, and headed toward me.

  He opened the door. “Andi, the office is closed today. I’m sure you know we’re not ready to release the scene, especially with this latest development.” He didn’t wear a smile, and he rubbed his stubbled chin.

  “I know.” I waved a file folder at him. “I h
ave chart notes I transcribed and printed. I didn’t feel right leaving them at the house any longer than I need to. Plus, I need to see, or maybe you could see, if there are any sound files on Dr. Bradley’s recorder. In case he was recording Friday night.”

  “His office has been dusted for prints. I’ll make sure it’s clear.” He turned on his heel, leaving me standing in the doorway. The sunlight streamed over my shoulders into the waiting room and made a cheerful patch on the front counter.

  “He has a handheld recorder. It looks like a long skinny cell phone,” I called out after him. “He usually plugs it into his computer when he’s done, then uploads the sound files and burns me a disk.”

  Jerry emerged from Dr. Bradley’s office. “Is this it?” He held up a slim black plastic rectangle.

  “That’s it.”

  He ambled across the waiting room and met me at the door. “Let me know if there’s anything of significance on these sound files. And don’t erase them. Get your medical records typed, but I want this recorder back.”

  I nodded. “Got it.” Jerry moved as if to turn. “Jer?”

  He paused. “What?”

  “Is this murder, or what?” My pulse pounded in my throat.

  “It’s hard to say right now.” Jerry glanced over his shoulder. Gloved investigators behind Jerry spoke in low tones, carrying small plastic bags toward the back entrance. “I’ll tell you what I told the paper. Dr. Bradley’s death is under questionable circumstances, but until we get a cause of death, we don’t know for sure.”

  “Barkha’s not in trouble, is she?” Bad question. The very sound of it made me want to slink to my car and disappear.

  “For her sake, I hope not.” The wrinkles on his forehead deepened.

  A car door slammed in the parking lot behind me. Franklin Bradley sat behind the steering wheel of a convertible. Its cherry-red paint job glistened in the sunlight. Dark sunglasses masked Franklin’s eyes.

  He cut the engine and left the car. The guy wore the same clothes he’d had on Friday afternoon. “Chief Hartley.” Franklin cut a sideways look at me as he stepped across the doorway threshold, the crime scene tape fluttering away from one side of the door frame.