License to Dill (22 page)

That led Piper back to Gerald Standley, exactly where she hadn't wanted to be. Her phone rang. A glance told her the call was from Miranda.

“Great news,” Miranda cried. “Frederico is awake!”

Piper lit up. “Wonderful! Were you able to talk with him?”

“No, he's still terribly groggy. But the doctors are very pleased because he was able to tell them his name! Piper, I'm so happy!”

Piper could hear that in her voice and pictured Miranda bouncing with excitement. “I'm delighted, too! Thanks so much for calling to tell me. Is there anything I can do?”

“Just say a little prayer and keep your fingers crossed that the progress continues. I've got to go. Got a lot more calls to make.”

Miranda rang off, leaving Piper smiling into her phone. That was certainly great news. And if Frederico could tell them soon who had tried to kill him and why, it would be even better.

W
ith the shop closed on Sunday, Piper took the opportunity to drive over to Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank's farm. She hadn't yet told them about Friday night's bad experience on the road. She hated worrying them but hated worse the thought of lying by omission to two of the most important people in her life. After affectionate welcomes from her aunt and uncle as well as from their dog, Jack, when she arrived (Gracie simply opened one yellow cat eye at Piper's appearance before lazily reclosing it) Piper bit the bullet and spilled all.

“Oh!” Aunt Judy cried, her hand pressed to her cheek.

Uncle Frank looked grim and shook his head.

They looked even more concerned when Piper told them about the mysterious fruit basket.

“We don't know yet,” Piper hurried to say, “if there was anything malicious in the fruit. It's still being tested.” One of Uncle Frank's eyebrows shot up, but he glanced at Aunt Judy and said nothing.

“Please don't worry about me,” Piper begged. “I won't be driving after dark for the time being, and I'm surrounded by people at the shop. Besides, I'm sure all this will be over with soon. Miranda called to say Frederico has come out of his coma.”

“That's wonderful!” Aunt Judy said, a smile easing the worry on her face and Uncle Frank's as well.

“Someone obviously wanted to keep Frederico from sharing something important,” Piper said. “As soon as he can communicate more, we'll know what that is.”

“Oh, I so want this to be over,” Aunt Judy said.

“It will be,” Piper assured her.

She stayed awhile longer, doing her best to keep the conversation upbeat, then left before the light began to fade, taking with her the usual plastic containers of extra food that Aunt Judy always seemed to have on hand whenever Piper visited, these filled with homemade vegetable soup and slices of sweet potato pie.

M
onday morning, Piper was glad to further share the news of Frederico's improvement with any and all who entered Piper's Picklings. Even the very few who hadn't been aware of the situation were pleased to hear of the upswing in a very serious condition.

“I'll take a loaf of my fresh-baked bread over to the young man,” eighty-something Mrs. Teska said. “Along with your apple butter,” she added, reaching for the jar with a bony, age-spotted hand. “As soon as I bake the bread, that is.”

“That would be great, Mrs. Teska, but I wouldn't hurry,” Piper said. “Frederico has more recovering to do before he can fully appreciate a treat like that.”

Piper had called Gil with the news as soon as she saw his shop lights go on, and he stopped over during a quiet time, coffee mug in hand and a smile on his face.

“Any further updates?” he asked.

“Nothing yet. I gathered the progress will be very gradual.”

“Progress is progress. We—and he—will just have to be patient.”

Piper realized Gil didn't know about the fruit basket, and she told him then. His smile faded. “How soon before they know if there was anything dangerous in the fruit?”

“The sheriff said a few days.”

“That's very worrying. I don't like the idea of you here by yourself. Whoever left that fruit—and I think we have to assume it was left with malicious intent—is bound to know by now that the attempt failed. What might they try next?”

“Sheriff Carlyle has promised to have his deputies keep an eye on my place.”

“That's good, but we both know the limits of that.”

“It'll be fine. We know this person is intent on remaining undiscovered. He—or she—won't try anything blatant. As long as I keep to the front of the shop where customers are always popping in, I'm certain nothing bad will happen. And all my doors have double locks for after hours.”

Gil looked unconvinced but said, “I will check on you regularly. And I've just decided to spend the night at my shop.”

“Don't do that,” Piper cried, but Gil waved away the protest.

“I won't be sleeping on the shelves, you know. There's quite comfortable accommodations upstairs, which Nate once used, you'll remember. It will save me driving back and forth, and you can reach me anytime, if needed.”

Gil had a determined, no-arguments look on his face, so Piper simply sighed. “If it makes you happier,” she said. “I hope the bed up there is comfortable.”

“It is. Hopefully, I won't need to use it very long.”

Piper sincerely hoped so as well.

T
hat afternoon, Piper got another call from Miranda. “They've moved Frederico out of critical care to the observation unit.”

“That's good, right?”

“Very good. It means they think he's doing so much better that he doesn't need constant care.”

“Great! Have you spoken with him yet?”

“Just a little. This location change happened with plenty of hustle and bustle and he's resting now. But he definitely knew me. He smiled, and he almost got my entire name out! With the therapy they'll be starting soon, I know he'll be so much better.”

Piper was pleased to hear that and said so. She was also glad to hear that Miranda planned on heading home for a rest of her own. To Piper that was an even better sign of Frederico's improvement—that Miranda was comfortable with leaving him for a while.

When Emma Leahy stopped in a little later, Piper shared that news.

“Excellent!” Emma cried. “I'll let the others in our group know.” Then she grew serious. “Have they allowed that coach, Tortorelli, and Francesca Conti to visit?”

“I don't know. I saw several team members at the hospital when I was there, but I didn't see those two.”

“I don't think either of them should be allowed within a hundred yards of the boy, do you?”

“I won't argue that it could be for the best, but I'm not sure the sheriff has grounds to do that.” Piper didn't share her recent doubts of the Italian couple's guilt, and she definitely didn't mention her worries that without Francesca and Tortorelli in the mix, Gerald Standley moved up to first place. She might be very wrong on both counts, though she hoped to be wrong at least about Standley.

“Perhaps Carlyle can come up with something,” Emma said. “The more I think about keeping those two away the stronger I feel. Especially now that you tell me Frederico will be much less watched.”

“Perhaps the best thing would be to put a guard on Frederico's room?”

“Good idea. I'll go see Carlyle about that right now.”

Emma turned and took off, a determined look on her face, though Piper wondered how much success she would have with her mission. As Gil had reminded her, the sheriff's department was limited and probably stretched thin. Then she thought of Ben Schaeffer.

B
en jumped at the idea, as Piper had expected he would. “I'll run it by the sheriff,” he said. “But I think he'll okay it.”

“That'd be great, Ben,” Piper said. She'd explained some of her reasoning as to why Frederico needed protection but was nonspecific about from whom, not having any confidence at that point about naming names. If Ben, however, simply kept everyone except hospital staff away, Frederico would be fine. Now Sheriff Carlyle had only to approve Ben's being there. Piper hoped that the pressure from Emma Leahy followed by Ben's timely willingness to step in would seal the deal, and she was right. By late afternoon, Ben called with confirmation.

“I'll be heading over to the hospital as soon as I change into my uniform,” he said. “Luckily, I have Leila here to take care of a few things while I'm gone and then close up. She's been a fantastic help.”

“Great,” Piper said, though with mixed feelings. She could hear the enthusiasm in Ben's voice and hoped it was mainly due to his upcoming auxiliary officer duty.

Piper felt better, knowing that Frederico would have added security overnight. She wished she'd thought of suggesting that Ben take along a thermos of strong coffee, but if he didn't think of it himself, there were always the vending machines at the hospital.

She dealt with a few more customers before closing time, then locked the front and back doors and went around checking the windows. Satisfied, she trudged up the stairs to her apartment, more than ready to kick off her shoes and grab a little dinner. Her phone rang, and Piper pulled it out, expecting it to either be Will, Aunt Judy, or Gil Williams checking up on her. To her surprise, it was Emma Leahy.

“Piper,” Emma said, her voice breathy.

“What's wrong?” Piper asked, having heard the stress in that one word.

“It's Don Tucker,” Emma said. “He's been taken to the hospital.”

E
mma's words snapped Piper out of her end-of-day fatigue. “What happened?” she cried, imagining Don Tucker in the kind of road accident she herself had narrowly escaped. Emma's answer, however, shocked her more.

“He may have been poisoned.”

“Poisoned! What do you mean? How could that happen?”

“He became terribly ill while working the desk at the Cloverton this afternoon. The people at the hotel who ran to help said Don pointed to the mug of coffee he always keeps nearby and indicated that he thought something terrible had been slipped into it. Don would surely recognize the symptoms, wouldn't he? I mean, he
is
a pharmacist.”

“Yes, and thank goodness for that. Was anything left in the mug?”

“There was and it was given to the sheriff, who arrived not long after the medics.” Emma paused, then said with a less steady voice, “Don was perfectly fine just an hour before, when I called him.”

“It sounds like he got the right help in a hurry. I'd say there's a good chance he'll be okay.”

“I hope so,” Emma said. “His daughter needs to know, and I don't know how to reach her. I've tried my daughter Joanie. She might have Robin's contact information. But Joanie's not picking up.”

Piper knew Emma's daughter lived in Pittsburgh, and that she had been in school with Tucker's daughter. That, however, was many years ago, and who knew if they'd stayed in touch. “No one at the hotel has an emergency number for Robin?”

“That was one of the first things I asked. For some strange reason Don listed Phil Laseter as his emergency contact.”

“Why on earth would he do that?”

“I know; it's odd. The only thing Phil and I could come up with was that Phil lives close by, unlike Robin, who's down in Baltimore. But then Don should have given Phil Robin's number, shouldn't he? But he didn't, so short of breaking into Don's house . . .”

“Let me call around before you try that, Emma. Surely someone in Cloverdale can produce Robin's number.”

“Oh, would you do that? I feel so, so
discombobulated
that I just can't think straight. I wish Joanie would answer her darn phone!”

“Sit down and have a cup of tea, Emma. I'll get working on it.”

Piper started immediately, calling Amy first. Although too young to have known Robin Tucker at school, Amy had floods of friends in Cloverdale, one of whom might be that golden someone-who-knew-someone.

Amy, though appalled at the news, quickly became all business—as Piper knew she would—saying, “I'll see what I can dig up.”

Piper next called Aunt Judy, hating to distress her again after having so recently done so in sharing her own received threats. But her aunt was a second prime source of contact to Cloverdale residents, hers reaching generations beyond Amy's.

“How awful!” Aunt Judy cried after Piper told her about Tucker. She
was
distressed, but the immediate need to reach Tucker's daughter helped tamp it down. “I don't know how to reach Robin,” she said. “Was she working at a hospital down in Baltimore? That comes to mind but I can't be sure. Let me look into it, Piper.”

After that, Piper stared at the phone, wanting to do more. But what? An Internet search? Maybe, she thought, a simple white pages search for the Baltimore area would turn Robin Tucker up. Piper turned on her laptop and got to work but quickly hit a dead end. Robin, of course, might have an unlisted number or no landline at all. Piper then turned to social networking sites but again came up short. There were plenty of Robin Tuckers, but none that matched the one she was looking for.

Not having heard back from anyone yet and aware of growing hunger pains, Piper left the laptop to see what she could grab in a hurry. She spotted the vegetable soup Aunt Judy had sent her home with the day before and popped it into her microwave, the familiar aroma soon bringing welcome and soothing memories of Aunt Judy's cozy kitchen. As she ate, Piper's thoughts remained on Don Tucker. Would he be okay? Would his early recognition of poisoning lead to successful treatment? Piper could only hope so.

Why did someone want him dead? What possible threat was he? As she sipped perfectly seasoned broth and savored home-grown diced vegetables, Piper ran over conversations she'd had with the man, trying to uncover a clue. Tucker had given her the names of the women Raffaele Conti had flirted with during his time in Cloverdale, which had led Piper to Wendy Prizer. Was there more that Don knew about Wendy than Piper had found out? Tucker had also clued Piper in to the fact of Carl Ehlers's Saturday late-night routine, which could easily have put Ehlers at the crime scene. Did Carl somehow learn about that?

Piper finished the last of her soup and had started washing up when her phone rang. It was Amy.

“I got it,” she announced. “Sally Forester is on the high school reunion committee for Robin Tucker's class. She said the number is old but at least it's something.” She read it off to Piper.

“Great,” Piper said, scribbling it down. “We'll give it a try. Thanks, Amy!”

Piper immediately dialed Emma Leahy but got a busy signal. She waited five minutes and tried again but couldn't get through. Emma clearly hadn't taken Piper's advice to sit quietly with a cup of tea. Piper then remembered Phil Laseter. He'd been Don Tucker's emergency contact and had obviously been in the thick of all the recent goings-on with Emma.

Piper had to look up Phil's home phone and was relieved to find it listed. When he picked up on the second ring, she gave him Robin's number, explaining that she'd promised Emma to look for it but had been unable to get through on Emma's line.

“She's probably talking to everyone in town,” he said. “I'll call Robin, then let Emma know.”

“Any news on how Don is doing?”

“He's been checked in at the hospital—room 618 as a matter of fact—so I'm taking that as his being past the emergency phase and into the recovery stage.”

“That sounds very encouraging.”

“I'd say so. Luckily he recognized what had happened to him and was able to tell the paramedics.” Laseter chuckled with what Piper took as relief for his friend. “I predict he'll be back to work at the Cloverton by the weekend. And not on that damned third shift that kept him from being in on our regular Saturday-night card games. He's been trying to get off that shift for weeks. This should do it.”

“I hope he'll take his time recovering. From what I understand, Don doesn't really need the job, financially speaking.”

“That's true. He mostly wanted to get out of the house. Said it was just too depressing to sit around twiddling his thumbs.”

“Well, I hope that phone number for his daughter works. Keep me updated on things, will you?”

“I sure will.”

Piper finished cleaning up in the kitchen, then fixed a cup of calming herbal tea and carried it with her to the sofa. She kicked off her shoes and stretched her legs onto the hassock, heaving a sigh that things seemed to be fairly well in hand. For the moment.

The question still remained: Who had poisoned Don? Rerunning all her previous thoughts got her nowhere, so when she'd finished her tea and found herself still feeling restless, Piper did what she'd often done in the past to organize her mind—she turned to organizing her dresser drawers.

With high hopes she headed into her bedroom and pulled out her sock drawer, dumping its contents onto her bed. Socks that she hadn't seen since she'd moved in suddenly appeared, and she sorted through them, setting a few aside for pure ugliness—what had she been thinking when she purchased the purple and green striped pair?—some for raggedness, and those few lone socks whose mates had obviously been beamed up by aliens.

That done, she turned to her makeup drawer, tossing out overpriced lipsticks that gave her lips an unfortunate glow-in-the-dark effect and mascaras that made her eyelids itch. Taking a break to fix a mug of coffee, she carried it with her to the bedroom and dug back into her work. Underwear drawer, sweater drawer, and just-plain-junk drawer. She'd worked her way down to the jumblefest that was her jewelry box, refueling with sips of coffee, when something made her stop and stare into space. A recently made casual comment, one that she had every reason to believe, had come to mind. Yet taking that comment as fact meant someone else had lied to her. But why the lie? There was no need, other than . . .

Piper set the jewelry box aside and went to find her phone. She stared at it a few moments, thinking, then made the call. After a brief explanation of the reason for her call, Piper asked some questions. What she heard back was troubling. But was it conclusive enough to point fingers? She didn't think so. What she wanted to do first was get to the hospital. And she wanted to get there soon.

She grabbed her keys, then stopped. What if she was wrong? What if someone was out there waiting to catch her driving alone? She glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten thirty. The roads to the hospital would be as deserted as they'd been that last, harrowing trip. But would having someone with her be protection enough?

Piper immediately called Will, knowing he'd be totally ready to help. The call, however, went to voice mail. Her heart sank. What should she do? Then she remembered Gil Williams, who was bunking out in his bookshop's upper apartment specifically for her sake. Piper knew he'd want her to ask, though she hated to.

She trotted down her steps, however, and walked the short distance to the bookshop, staring upward. All the lights were out. Should she really disturb the older man for what might turn out to be a fool's errand? Then she heard the sound of a car approaching, and tensed. The car slowed, then stopped.

“Piper?” Scott called from the lowered passenger window. “Is that you?”

“Scott!” Piper hurried over. “What are you doing here?”

“I was working late at my office—again. Might as well be there as sitting in my hotel room, I figure. What are you doing out here?”

“I need a ride to the hospital,” Piper said, making up her mind in a hurry. “Can you take me?”

Scott hit the unlock button, and Piper hopped in. “I'll explain on the way,” she said and buckled up.