Tempest in the Tea Leaves (17 page)

I turned on some soft new age music, flicked on the light to my tropical-fish tank, and started a fire in the corner fireplace. Gathering my supplies, I sat at the table in the center of the room, surrounded by lush green plants. Glancing up at the constellations covering my ceiling, I prayed this would work and shed some insight onto the state of my future.

I took my canister of homegrown tea leaves, placed the loose tea leaves in a cup, and then set some water on to boil. Once the watered boiled and steam billowed into the air, I poured the water over the tea leaves and stirred them with a spoon as it brewed. Next, I drank the unstrained tea and thought about what exactly it was I wished to know. In my case, what my immediate future held in store. Would “getting on with my life” involve looking out my windowpane or looking out through a set of bars?

I held the cup in my left hand, swished three times in a counterclockwise motion, and then I tipped the cup upside down onto the saucer so the excess liquid could run out. Righting the cup, I pointed the handle toward myself and began to read the pattern of tea leaves.

Holding the cup level, I started at the handle and read the tea leaves in a counterclockwise direction from the top of the rim to the bottom of the cup. The first thing I saw was an anchor, which represented a lucky sign and success in business. A huge relief swept through me, although I had no idea when that success would occur. I might have to go through a lot more before that happened. I kept reading. Next I saw a heart representing love and pleasures to come, but immediately after I saw the mark of interrogation representing doubt and disappointment. And finally I saw a comet blazing through my teacup.

A sure sign of misfortune and trouble to come.

There was a loud knock on my door, as though someone had been pounding for a while. I jogged out to the foyer and looked through the peephole to find Detective Stone showered and in full detective mode.

I opened the door and looked at him curiously. “Did you forget something?”

“Yeah, you . . . partner.” A smile hovered at the edge of his lips.

“Seriously?” I beamed, forgetting about my disturbing reading and deciding to see what I could come up with physically instead of psychically.

“For now. We’ll see how it goes.” He pointed his finger at me. “If you make me look bad, all bets are off. I’m only doing this because we need to pool our resources. This doesn’t mean our working relationship is permanent. I still think you’re a quack,” he added with much less bite.

“That’s okay because I still think you’re a grump butt. I’m just glad you finally admit I have something worth contributing. And trust me, I don’t want this relationship to be permanent any more than you do.”

“Looks like we have a deal, then.” He held out his hand.

“Deal.” I jumped up and down, gave him a hug, and then quickly stepped back. “Sorry.”

He nodded once but couldn’t quite hide his cockeyed smile. “If you’re ready, Tink, let’s go bring Nurse Doolittle in for further questioning.”

I grabbed my coat and followed him out to his car. Ten minutes later, we were standing in Dr. Wilcox’s office, asking the receptionist if we could talk to Nurse Doolittle.

A slightly chubby, rosy-cheeked brunette with curly hair, pink polka-dot scrubs, and a puckered brow appeared, looking us both over critically. After a moment, she asked us to follow her out of the waiting room and into the nurses’ station. “May I help you?” she asked.

“Well, that depends,” Mitch said. “Are you going to tell me where you were the night Amanda Robbins was murdered?”

“I already told you I was home,” she said, wringing her hands inside the cotton fabric of her shirt.

“Wrong. We know you were at the doc’s house, delivering his dry cleaning,” I chimed in, and her eyes widened for a second. Then she smoothed her shirt and looked away.

“Last time I checked it wasn’t a crime to help a person out. I was simply trying to do something nice for Dr. Wilcox.”

“Look, we know you had a thing for the doc, and we know you wished the librarian was out of the picture so he would finally notice you.” Mitch put on his serious cop-guy attitude. “I think you killed her to get her out of the way. You certainly had enough motive.”

“I would never do something like that.” Beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead. “Besides, you just said someone saw me delivering the doctor’s laundry. Doesn’t that give me an alibi?”

“Well, yes, to a certain degree. However, it doesn’t take that much time to deliver someone’s laundry. Maybe you paid someone to take out the competition for you. I hate to point this out, but you do have access to digoxin,” I said, pasting on my pitiful face and deciding to roll with the good-cop, bad-cop angle. “All you have to do is tell us the truth about what you were doing inside the doctor’s house for all that time. I really don’t want to have to bring you in, but I’m afraid this big bad meanie of a detective won’t think twice about it.”

“Well, I—”

“What is the meaning of this?” Dr. Wilcox stormed into the nurses’ station. “Our patients are getting backed up. All of you, follow me. You’re causing a scene.” He led us into the nearest exam room. “We’ve already answered all your questions, Detective. What more could you want?”

“
You
answered all our questions. Your nurse, however, did not.”

Dr. Wilcox turned to Nurse Doolittle with a raised brow. “Tina, what’s going on? Why wouldn’t you answer their questions?”

“They know I dropped off your laundry for you the night of the murder.” She hedged, looking like she wanted to say more but couldn’t quite bring herself.

“Exactly,” the doctor said slowly, giving her a penetrating look. “You’re a wonderful help to me, and I really appreciate everything you’ve done.” He paused for a minute. “I don’t see what the problem is, Detective.”

“The problem is your nurse was in your house way too long on the night of the murder. You weren’t home,” Mitch said, “and I want to know what she was doing.”

“Tina, you don’t have to say anything more,” Dr. Wilcox said, not sounding surprised that she was at his house for so long that night. “You have the right to remain silent, you know.”

She sobbed. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” The doctor took her hand, but she slid hers out of his grip.

“Your nurse said she was being nice and helping you out,” I added. “If she would confirm exactly what she was doing at your place while you were at dinner, then she wouldn’t be in trouble. Don’t forget, Doctor. You’re still a suspect as well.” I turned to Tina and placed my hand on her shoulder. “We want to help you clear your name. All you have to do is tell us what you were up to.”

“I’m calling my lawyer,” the doc said, and started to leave, but Tina put her hand on his arm.

“No. It’s time. You didn’t do anything wrong, and neither did I.” She patted his shoulder and then turned to the detective. “I admit I was at the doctor’s house for an hour at the time of the murder. And I truly was trying to help him. That morning in the office he and Amanda had a big fight. He was only trying to take care of her, but she wouldn’t let him help. He got angry and said things he shouldn’t have and then stormed out of the office. I saw him take her file with him, and I was afraid he was going to do something stupid. So I dropped off his cleaning when I knew he’d be gone, and I searched his house. That’s all, I swear. Once I found Amanda’s file, I left to return it to the office.” Tina started crying. “I didn’t want to see him hurt any more by that woman.”

“I was angry, but I would never do anything as stupid as break a patient’s confidentiality,” Dr. Wilcox said, staring down at his feet. “I was only trying to scare Amanda into changing her mind about letting me take care of her, but when I called, she wasn’t home. So I went to dinner with every intention of returning her file to the office later that night. Nurse Doolittle beat me to it.”

“Why wouldn’t Amanda let anyone help her?” I asked.

The doctor sighed. “Her tumors were cancerous. We caught it early, but she still needed treatment. She didn’t want anyone to know because she didn’t want them to replace her at the library. The library was everything to her. She had no family or anyone else to help her. I did so much for her, was willing to do so much more, but she turned me down flat. She was a very proud and stubborn woman. Yes, I was angry, but I wouldn’t have broken my oath as a doctor.” He stared Mitch in the eye. “You have my word on that.”

“I really didn’t mean to cause more trouble for you, Dr. Wilcox,” Tina said. “Does this mean I’m fired?”

He smiled sadly. “No, I’m not going to fire you, Tina. You’re a good nurse, and frankly, this office would fall apart without you. I know you were trying to save me from myself, but it all doesn’t matter now anyway. Amanda’s gone.”

“But I’m still here,” the nurse said quietly, and the doctor looked at her as though seeing her in a whole new light. Some men were so blind.

“Well, thank you for your time, Miss Doolittle,” I interjected. I grabbed Detective Stone’s arm. “We have a thing to go to, don’t we?”

He looked down at my hand and paused. “A thing. Right.” He reached in his pocket. “Here’s my card. If you think of anything else, call me—”

“Day or night. I think they’ve got it.” I dragged him the rest of the way outside, ignoring his scowl. “Can’t you see they needed a moment alone? What do you do, order those things by the thousand? I think everyone in town must have one by now.”

“Can it, pipsqueak. Your status of partner can be revoked at any time.” Detective Grumpy Pants was back to being his grumpmeister self when his cell phone rang.

“Stone here,” he barked into the phone and then looked at me.

“What?” I mouthed.

He held up his hands. “Yes, sir. We’ll be right there.” He snapped his phone closed and frowned.

“We?” I asked. “Right where?”

“Captain Walker wants to see us in his office immediately.”

 

 

“Sunshine Meadows, I’d like you to meet Chief Spencer and Mayor Cromwell,” Captain Walker wasted no time in saying after I followed Mitch inside the police station all the way into Walker’s office.

“So nice to finally meet you both,” I responded, and shook their hands.

Chief Spencer, a man with a medium build and a full head of salt-and-pepper hair parted on the side and trimmed to precision, looked me over thoroughly. “I trust you’re doing your best to clear your name and help solve this case, young lady?”

My smile slipped under a glare as dark as overbrewed Fire Oolong tea. This dude meant business. I nodded vigorously. “Sir, absolutely, sir. I’m detecting lots of stuff.” Like whom Detective Stone’s role model must be.

The chief’s frown put the detective’s to shame, and then he nailed the detective with a disbelieving look. “Is she for real?”

“Affirmative, sir.” Mitch stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back.

I snapped my spine straight and matched his stance. “That means yes,” I couldn’t resist adding. The chief’s hard gaze whipped back to mine. “Sir,” I added. He eyed me critically like he didn’t approve of me working on this case any more than Mitch did, but with the mayor up for reelection, he would pretty much give him whatever he wanted.

In this case me, apparently.

“Good, good, young lady,” Mayor Cromwell spoke up in a big booming voice. He was short and stocky with an oversized troll head of shocking red hair and small beady eyes. “That’s what I like to hear. At least someone is enthusiastic about solving this case.” He raised a brow at Mitch, and I could see the detective’s molars grinding beneath his cheek.

“Oh, believe me, Detective Grum—uh, Stone—works harder than anyone I know.” I patted Mitch’s arm, and his eyes cut to mine.

“Good, then he won’t mind telling me what leads have panned out.”

The detective cleared his throat. “Well, none exactly. But I’m still looking into the Ms. Robbins’s phone records and personnel files—”

“None?” Cromwell boomed. “What the devil have you been doing, boy?”

“My job,” Mitch spat, giving Captain Walker a warning look. “These things take time.”

“Detective Stone is one of the department’s best,” Captain Walker spoke up, and Chief Spencer nodded silently beside him.

“Well, that’s not saying much about your department, then.” Cromwell scoffed. “Time is something we don’t have. Maybe we should put Miss Meadows in charge. We’d probably get faster results.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” I thought about that. “Although he did make me a partner.” I chewed my lip, and Mitch slapped his hands on his hips, his mouth ajar as though ready to read me more than a Miranda warning. “But no, no, no, I really couldn’t.”
Shut up now, Tink, you’re making things worse,
I thought. The detective was so going to make me pay later. “We have brand-new leads we’re going to follow now,” I added, hoping to improve the situation.

“Really, and who came up with those, Detective?” Cromwell squared off against Mitch, and it was obvious the two didn’t like each other.

Mitch’s jaw bulged like it killed him to admit it, but he finally responded, “Miss Meadows.”

“I rest my case,” the mayor said, throwing up his hands.

Mitch’s hands clenched into fists.

“That’s right,” I said. “We will put this case to rest for sure, Mayor. You can count on us.” I grabbed Mitch by the arm and once again pulled him out of a room, calling over my shoulder, “We’ll be in touch soon.”

Once we were outside, Mitch blew me off and started to storm away toward his car.

“Where are you going?” I sputtered.

“You figure it out, Tink, since you’re so good at detecting.” He climbed in his car and started the engine.

“Fine, I will,” I hollered back at him, but I doubted he heard me over the splatter of kicked-up snow and slush as he drove away.