Heaven Sent Rain (11 page)

And then,
But you
are
an expert, Dinah!

She bridled her runaway thoughts and hardened her voice. “I am assuming you are Constance Maloney. My associate, April, mentioned your name. You will use the appropriate honorific, Ms. Maloney; it is
Doctor
Taylor; and please keep in mind that you are the guest here.”

“Unless it is an earned doctorate, I see no need to—”

Dinah interrupted her, something she rarely did. “Earned doctorates in both physiology and biochemistry, with post-docs at Johns Hopkins and Mayo.” She did not sit down. “Apparently you did not read the materials we sent you.”

“I read enough of them to know you’re a charlatan. But then, that will become clear in the course of the interview.”

Hal came bursting in the door. He nowhere near resembled a white knight, but Dinah considered him so. He boomed, “Good, good! I admire a person who can just say up front where she’s coming from.”

Stuffing down her disgust with
the woman
, Dinah grinned. “Let me introduce our moderator, Harold Adler.”

He wiggled a finger at the reporter with graying temples. “You, sir, if you would scoot your chair that way about a foot and a half…thank you, that’s good. Dr. Harding, since you will be our resident expert, where would you prefer to sit?”

Dinah fought off a smile. Thank you, mentor extraordinaire. Hal had just taken the reins out of Ms. Maloney’s hands, slick as you please. He had already warned Dinah that as moderator he had to remain neutral and couldn’t protect her, but neutral was good enough. Thank heaven they were not using the moderator Ms. Maloney had recommended—in fact, had insisted on.

They settled themselves. The cameraman, a mousy little fellow with unruly hair, fiddled for about ten minutes adjusting lights and background features. Finally he picked up his on-the-shoulder camera and nodded.

Hal began, painting this interview as a substitute for the lack of Q-and-A previously. He introduced everyone briefly by name and role, and they were off and running.

Ms. Maloney asked the first question on the list they had given her. Dinah answered.

She asked the second. Good! She was simply going down the list. Dinah felt a bit more relaxed.

And then Ms. Maloney threw a curve, a loaded question that was not on the list. “Balancing research and development plus cost of production against market price, what do you think your profit margin will be?”

Hal was nodding slightly. And Dinah realized with a jolt that Hal had not seen the list of questions. He had no idea which were good questions and which were stumblers, like this one.

Except that Dinah didn’t stumble, at least not this time. “Your question is impossible to answer because our research and development is not limited to this one product. So it can’t be quantified. As for profit margin, we’re keeping it as low as possible, and, I might add, with our backers’ approval. Our mission is to get good health to the greatest number of people, and keeping prices low maximizes this.”
Take that, you harpy!

Ms. Maloney snapped back instantly with “Then why not operate at cost?”

Dinah was beginning to feel intensely irritated, and that was not going to serve her purpose. Not at all. “For the same reason you are getting paid to do this interview, Ms. Maloney. You gotta eat.”

And Pete Whoever-this-was barked, “If your product is so beneficial, surely some foundation can cover production and make it available at cost, or free. Just how deep does your altruism go, Ms. Taylor?”

Hal had said they might use personal attacks. Here it was. She was about to answer when the harpy—aka Maloney—fired off another funding question.

Hal raised a hand. “You have to wait until the answer is completed before you ask another, Ms. Maloney.”

Dinah took a deep breath and composed what she hoped was an adequate answer.

The topic shifted to disease. Dr. Harding seemed quite knowledgeable about diseases, especially in cases where diabetes was a contributing factor. Perhaps they ought to approach the woman to do consulting work for them. They could certainly use her.

She realized her mind was wandering away from the interview, down useless bunny trails, and snapped back to the here and now. Or tried to.

And then someone mentioned
pallor
and Corinne leaped into Dinah’s consciousness so suddenly and vividly she froze. Now, of all times—and Jonah at school trying to stay normal while coping with the death of his mother, and the stitched-and-bedraggled Mutt waiting for someone to come let her out…

And her flitting mind, which was so creative and useful when it was going in all directions at once, tripped her, dropped her flat on her face. She misspoke—said the opposite of what she wanted to say. And while she was trying to back up and correct her error, they hammered her with new questions.

Bottom line: Their carefully constructed interview, which had started out so full of promise, with which she so wanted to clarify their purpose and the nature of their product, descended into shambles.

And stayed there.

W
e just have to get another vet in here.
Garret was up and down all night last night, tonight was his night to do the urgent-care shift, and he had a full day ahead. Totally knackered already and it was only eight a.m. He wandered back to the break room.

“You look about as tired as I feel.” Sue was pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Sick kids is about as bad as sick pets. Or maybe worse. The puking is hard to ignore. And so far since midnight I’ve run two sets of bedclothes through the laundry.”

He poured a cup. “Can you ignore it when it’s your own kids?”

“Not when they puke in bed.” She grimaced and swilled coffee.

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure you should be here?”

Sue shrugged. “Allan is doing the day shift at home. He called in sick at work since he was part of the bathroom parade last night. But he says he feels better this morning. Two of the other three are on the mend. Some kind of fast-acting bug that hopefully leaves as quickly as it arrived.”

Garret grunted. “I was hoping to leave early and maybe catch a nap at least. Valiant did well through the night, but I think we should keep up with the light sedation for another twenty-four hours.”

She nodded. “Jason is on the schedule for tonight. He’s coming in at four, I think.” Sue glanced over her shoulder at the calendar. “I have tomorrow off with baseball tryouts; Allan will take that while Em and I do the Brownie trip to the Toledo Zoo. Or I’d work tomorrow.”

“Maybe moving away from the clinic was not a smart move. I need to run home to feed the livestock, get a shower and back ASAP.”

“Then you best go before things get really busy.”

“Your first three appointments are here.” Amber stuck her head in the door. “Dr. G, Tessa’s here. Can she see Valiant?”

“Of course. I’ll meet her at his cage.”

He stepped out into the hall and Tessa wheeled to a stop next to him. “Good morning, Dr. G. How did he do?”

“Very well. We’re going to keep him in about the same state for another twenty-four hours, so don’t be worried about him.” Garret led the way down the hall and shoved open the cage-room door for her. “What about you? Are you getting along okay?”

“A friend is staying with me for a few days. That gives me time to make whatever arrangements are necessary.”

Garret frowned. “Only one person. Older?”

“Yes.”

“Then I suggest we keep him here longer than we would need to if you had two people to take care of him. Can you fence off a portion of the kitchen or something to keep him confined? He might still be having an incontinence problem, depending on how long we keep him down. I suggest a roll of red roofing paper to lay over the floor. Protect the floor and easier on him. You just fold it up and toss. You could put down several layers at a time. And a towel or strip of fabric to slip under him in front of his rear legs for assistance when he is walking. Large as he is, a big person would be helpful.”

“We will do whatever we need to do. Hey, big boy, sure miss you.” She popped the cage door open and leaned forward, stretching her fingers out to touch the tip of his nose. A pink tongue kissed her. “Oh, Valiant, that name sure fits you.”

Garret smiled. “That it does. If you have no more questions, I’ll be back in a while, but I need to go feed my own herd.”

“Thanks.”

Garret headed for the back door before someone could grab him. He stopped at the Bagelry, ordering four shots of espresso in his twenty-ounce tall one. He’d be so keyed up he needn’t worry about sleep for the rest of the day. It was tonight that caused him concern.

His message unit was flashing when he walked through the door to be greeted by dogs, cat, a raucous parrot crying “Help me, help me!” and the phone ringing. He petted the dogs, let the cat twine around his legs, and yelled “Quiet!” at the parrot. The phone went to the answering machine. A woman’s voice caught his attention.

“Hi, this is Elizabeth Grayson, my aunt Jane introduced us at church on Sunday. I have a favor to ask. I need to bring an escort to a company do on Saturday evening. Sorry to be asking on such a late notice, but I guess I am hoping it can work. It won’t be a late evening, and I will be eternally in your debt. Sometimes one just has to still the gossips.” She left her number and repeated it.

Saturday night after Friday night on urgent care. Probably not. At the rate he was going, he wouldn’t get any sleep until Sunday. He’d have to stand up in church to stay awake. Unless it was slow in urgent care. Could he be so lucky? He’d call her back later.

He fed all his varied housemates, got cleaned up, and was back in the car in less than an hour, leaving forlorn friends staring after him. Apologies were not sufficient. Guilt settled as he drove back to the clinic.

He spoke Elizabeth’s number into the built-in car phone and got an answering machine. “This is Garret. I’m sorry, Elizabeth, but I have the urgent-care shift tonight and by Saturday night will be asleep on my feet. Wish I could help you. Perhaps another time?”

Did he mean it when he said perhaps another time, or was he being polite? She had said she had a boyfriend. But then why would she have asked him to—what had she said? Still the gossips? He was saved from having to answer by a car swerving in front of him so close it almost clipped his bumper. “You idiot! What were you thinking?” He’d not even had time to hit the brakes or the horn. The adrenaline was still rushing when he entered the rear door of the clinic, so he fit right in. A dog and cat had gotten loose in the waiting room and tore around it, terrorizing the other animals and infuriating their owners. The cacophony echoed clear to the back parking lot.

Jason was trying to catch the cat as Garret entered. Garret stuck out his foot as the dog came racing past, but instead of blocking him, the little border collie tripped and went butt-over-tincups and Jason grabbed him, held him down. The cat, a huge fat Persian, cowered on top of the air conditioner unit. Garret got hold of the cat and dragged it toward him, until he could seize the scruff of its nape. He announced to the room in general, “This is why cats have to be in a carrier. If someone comes in carrying an unrestrained animal, the animal and owner will be sent back outside.”

Jason indeed looked contrite. “Sorry, this one snuck up on me. That Persian sure could leap. I thought it was too fat to be very active.”

“They can fool you, all right.” Garret made his way around the room, apologizing and setting things to rights again. All the time his mind wanted to play with drawing the mayhem that had ensued. What a poster that would make. Twenty reasons why cats had to be carrier-bound. Even if the carrier had to be wheeled in. Files had gone flying, and Amber had scratches on her arm from when the cat used her as a leaping post to bound up and across the tops of the file cabinets.

“I hope you charge her double or triple,” she muttered.

“The thought entered my mind, too.” Leaving the others to put the mess to rights, he picked the file off the rack by the door and entered a treatment room.

Things slowed down enough that he could leave at three, promising to be back. He didn’t just sleep, he dropped into an abyss. The alarm had to go into its urgent mode to get him up in time to return by seven.

Slow nights were worse than busy ones. He let Jason sleep a couple of hours and then he did the same. They had two phone calls and two drop-ins. Not exactly the kind of night that paid the bills, but the last couple of days had compensated for that.

The regular cage cleaners, Beanpole and his helper, Lenny, showed up at six in the morning. Beanpole, almost six feet tall, weighed maybe a hundred and twenty pounds if he let his hair grow, and his buddy Lenny, a short, dumpy guy from AA, was so far winning his fight with the bottle. Mutt and Jeff. And Mutt made Garret think of that Taylor woman and her charges. He tried to chase the mental image of those eyes back to wherever it came from; it wouldn’t chase.

Garret checked Valiant one more time and headed home. The ringing phone dragged him from sleep only an hour later.

“Dr. G!” Beanpole. “Valiant is convulsing.”

“Is Sue there?”

“Yes, she said to call you.”

“I’ll be right there.” The panic in his helper’s voice jerked Garret from his bed and into clothes. “Please, Lord, please, Lord” was all he could think or say. “Please Lord!”
But he was fine when I left. What brought this on? Help me, Lord. Wisdom needed here. Thank You.

He broke a few speed limits and ground a few millimeters off his tires screeching to a halt in the back parking lot. He ran to the open door of the cage room. dropped to his knees beside the now comatose animal. “What did you give him?” He nodded as Sue answered. “How long did it last?”

Beanpole was still shaking. “Seemed forever.”

“I know, they do, but…”

“Maybe a minute. I wasn’t in here when it started.”

“Was anyone?” While he questioned, he listened to lungs and heart. Rapid, shallow breathing, heart going at high speed.

“I was in feeding the boarded animals and I came back in here and he was thrashing around and then he went rigid and I thought he died.” Beanpole stumbled over his words in his panic.

Sue knelt beside him. “I came in about that time, and he was like he is now. Twitching once in a while. I checked him over, made sure the IV was all right. Amazing that he didn’t dislodge that.”

“Has Tessa been in this morning?”

“No, not yet.”

“Has she ever reported anything like this?”

“Not that I know of, and I think we’re the only vets she uses. You think the injury could have caused this?”

“Most likely. We should start easing him off the sedative.” He lurched back to his feet.

“I say blood work, see if something is going on. He’s running a low-grade temp, but that’s not surprising with the trauma.” She stood up. “When do you plan to cast him? Or should we?”

“We should. I’m not sure when.”

Karen, the Saturday version of Amber, knocked at the closed door. “Tessa’s here. Can she come in?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see to the next patients.” Sue greeted Tessa on her way out.

“I thought this was your day off, Dr. G.” Tessa wheeled to a stop beside him. She turned instantly from cheer to concern; he’d thought he was controlling his face, but apparently not. “Did something happen?”

“Yes, Valiant had a seizure. No idea why, but we’re looking into it.” He shot her what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. But the look she gave him shouted her disbelief.

He asked, “Has he ever had a seizure before?”

“Nope, never. That would end his life as a service dog instantly.”

“I know. But it might have been from the injury. Only time will tell.”

“I have some things to show you.” She dug into her bag and pulled out a torn piece of sweatshirt. “My friend, Gloria, saw this snagged on her side of the fence. And we found this on the back deck.” She gestured toward a tool bag in her lap.

He took the sack and peered inside. “Tools? Was someone there to work for you?”

“No, I think someone was there to break in and Valiant chased him off. I have a feeling that someone was in an emergency room somewhere being treated as a dog-bite victim that day.” She glared at the tools. “I used the term ‘victim’ lightly. He obviously did not know a service dog lived in the house. Or maybe he was breaking and entering randomly and this time he made a huge mistake.”

“I have a friend over at the ER. I’ll call him. Getting to the bottom of this might get real interesting.”

“If only it could help Valiant.” She choked on his name. “He almost gave his life to protect me.” She shook her head, then raised tear-filled eyes to Garret. “You gotta be able to help him.”

“What if he can’t be your service dog any longer?”

“We’ll have to cross that bridge when or if we come to it, won’t we?”

“Have you filed a police report yet?”

“No, we just found these this morning. I’d not been out on the patio. But I guess I should, huh?”

“Ask the receptionist out front to call the police for you and tell them you want to report an attempted break-in.” Garret smothered a yawn. Did it make any sense to go home and try to sleep, or just keep on here?

He opted for the latter. Kneeling beside Valiant, he drew a blood sample and left Tessa alone with her dog. Since they closed early on Saturdays, he let the others close up and headed home again, mulling over the new installment in the Valiant chronicles.

Since curiosity was not only a trait of his but a dire need, he dialed Arthur’s cell. The two of them attended the same Bible Study on Sunday mornings and had been part of the after-service lunch group for the past three years.

A grumpy voice. “This better be good, I’m supposedly sleeping.”

“Sorry, Art. I can call back later. This is Garret.”

“I know, I have caller ID. What’s up?”

Since Arthur was head nurse at the ER, Garret paused. “I have a story to tell.”

“Pertinent to…”

“A question first. Did anyone treat a dog bite a couple days ago?”

“I did. Why?”

Garret told him the story. “Did you check for a rap sheet?”

“About half a mile long, but nothing that cost him any time longer than thirty days. Let me think a minute. His story was that a pit bull ran out of a yard and attacked him when he was just walking down the street. “Took a bunch of stitches, but no real muscle or nerve damage. I’m sure he was shaking hands with delirium tremens as some buddy hustled him out of there.”

“I told Tessa, the dog’s owner, to file a report. You get an address or contact info?”

“Of course, but it’s most likely bogus. I made sure the tetanus shot made him yelp. Not that I’m vindictive or anything. The police will be able to locate him, I’m sure.” He yawned. “Sorry, friend, but I need to get some more shut-eye. I have the midnight shift tonight. Saturday night in the big city. A true adrenaline junkie’s picnic.”

Garret thanked him and hung up. Too many coincidences. God at work for sure. Now if he would just heal that dog without any hitches. Hadn’t the poor beast been through enough?