Let the investigation continue!
A hint of sadness clung to Caroline. “First, you should always seek help if you need it, Jane. Never hesitate. Second, yes, Dr. Hotchkins is certainly missed. He was an amazing man who often volunteered his time at a free medical facility in the city.”
“Oh, how wonderful.” She hesitated for only a moment before adding, “Do you happen to know the name of the facility? So I can make a donation in Dr. Hotchkins’s honor.” And maybe, possibly, stop by and offer her deepest sympathies. Chat. Couldn’t hurt, right?
Blink, blink. “I’m sorry, I don’t know offhand. But I can certainly find out.”
“No worries.” No reason to give the woman one more thing to do. Jane made a mental note to do a little research herself. A way to bone up her skills.
Caroline patted her hand and sighed. “I’m going to prescribe something to help you rest and refer you to a therapist I know. Someone who specializes in this kind of trauma. Now.” She motioned to Jane’s arm. “Let’s talk about that cut.”
The scratch she’d gotten when she’d gardened this morning? “That? It’s no big deal. I get all kinds of scrapes working at the cemetery.” As the lone employee, she did all the gardening and repairs herself.
“All kinds of scrapes, yet you’re overdue for a tetanus vaccination. I’d rather not treat you for a toxic bacterium later on. While I get your prescription sent to the pharmacy and draft up your referral, Nurse Emma will take care of the injection.”
What? “No! No needles. I’m fine. Honest. Better than fine. Really! I made everything up. I’m not really upset about finding a dead body.” Nervous laugh. “I’ve already forgotten it.”
“Don’t worry.” Again, she patted Jane’s hand. “We’ll have you feeling better in no time.”
Jane grumbled as she stalked out of the clinic—and plowed straight into a grumbling Dr. Garcia. They stumbled apart, both going quiet. His eyes widened before he darted his gaze elsewhere.
“What are you doing here?” he growled. He was a short, rotund man with dark skin and darker eyes. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Oh.” Should none of his patients be here, or Jane specifically? “I rescheduled with the PA.” Did no one tell him? Hmm.
Whatever. She would dissect the nuances of this interaction later and seize the opportunity being offered to her now. “Hey. While I’ve got you. I’d like to express my condolences for your great loss and to also offer to help you solve the mystery of the fleur-de-lys symbol and avenge the destruction of your property.” Thoughts came, escaping her mouth before she had time to check them. “Has anyone ever visited you or Dr. Hotchkins with symptoms of, I don’t know, artist’s elbow? That’s a thing, yes? Or maybe you have a patient who was once wearing a speck of neon-blue paint?”
“I can’t discuss my patients with you, Miss Ladling.” He hurried on as if his feet were on fire, entering the building.
Well. That was all kinds of wrong. And okay, yes, she might be getting a bit paranoid here. But come on! The killer probably knew Jane owned and operated the cemetery. Which meant anyone acting weird toward her was potentially hiding something. One hundred percent. No question. This encounter with Dr. Garcia topped the list of weird.
She pondered his motives while driving home, her arm stinging from the totally unnecessary shot she’d been unable to avoid. She was only slightly massively more confused about Dr. Hotchkins’s murder. During the course of her investigation, her list of suspects had only grown. So far she had crossed out a grand total of zero names.
Emma Miller and Tiffany Hotchkins still topped the list. Along with Caroline Whittington and Dr. Garcia, the receptionist at the clinic and both guys with colds. They couldn’t have been as sick as they’d pretended to be, making her wonder if they acted worse as some kind of cover. Oh, also on her list were all the guests at Tiffany’s house, plus everyone’s significant other.
When she came to an active railroad crossing, getting stuck in a line of waiting cars, she phoned Fiona to tell all. “Do you know anything about these people?”
“Emma Miller. Let’s see, let’s see,” Fiona said. “Oh, yes. I remember reading about Emma and her husband on the Headliner. They’ve been on the rocks for months. In fact, I think they’re the ones who had a tiff at the Golden Spoon. She accused him of being an absentee husband, and he called her a cheating witch. But with a B.” She spoke the last with a scandalized tone. “As for Caroline, I ran into her at the Yellow Brick Abode Library. By accident, I happened to notice she was checking out a stack of books about the art of flirting. If you know what I mean.”