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Dottie placed her wine glass on the coffee table and stood when Michaela and Cookie entered the room.
"Good. Finally, where have you been, Michaela?” she asked as she greeted Angel with a tug on his ears. “I've been waiting for you for over two hours!" Dottie’s voice was anxious and peeved at the same time.
Mic noted Angel’s ears. He was bothered by the anxiety and sound of Dottie’s voice. He was on full alert. Mic was annoyed, and her voice was sharp. "Settle down, Dottie. Angel is upset, and what do you mean where have I been? I've been at home getting dressed, and I'm on my way to Biddy’s. You know it’s Thursday night, and I always make an appearance.”
Dottie nodded and reseated herself in her recliner as Angel relaxed and sat on the floor next to Mic.
“Besides, I'm meeting Slade there to go over the findings in Allison's case," she said as she patted Angel on the head and watched him relax.
Cookie interrupted her. "Michaela, I have a plate of sandwiches and hors d'oeuvres that I’ll bring you in just a few seconds. Is there anything else you need?"
"Thank you, Cookie," Michaela said. "I would love a bite to eat and a glass of mineral water."
Cookie nodded and glanced over at Dottie, “Countess, would you like some Perrier or a cup of tea?”
Dottie glared at Cookie and shook her head, giving her an icy look. “No. I am having my before-dinner drink.”
“Or drinks,” Michaela said, as she moved her chair closer to Dottie and put her high-heeled boots up on the end of Dottie's recliner. "What's up, Dottie? I was worried about you when you were in the car. You sounded short of breath."
Dottie rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Michaela. I told you that. I was excited about what I've learned. Now would you please be quiet and let me tell you.”
Mic stared into Dottie’s blue eyes and admired the energy and vitality. “Okay, I'm all ears, Dottie. But before we begin, I want you to know it worries me when you go off on your own and do crazy, dangerous stuff. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re over eighty years old, and you're not quite as fast as you used to be.”
Dottie glowered at her but said nothing as she arched her eyebrows into a scowl.
“End of lecture," Mic said. “I promise.”
Dottie held her tongue and that was hard for her. She was used to speaking her mind. She hated it when Michaela said things about her age, as if she didn’t know she was old. She knew exactly how old she was, but she refused to give up things that were important to her. In fact, she was thirty-five on the inside. It was the outside of her that had visibly changed.
“Okay, just hold your tongue until I'm finished," Dottie grumbled.
Michaela smiled weakly and said, “Okay.”
Dottie settle back comfortably in her recliner. "Well, after I left Margaret’s house this afternoon, I decided to pay Dr. Dude's office a visit. I saw your car there and the police cruiser, so I parked across the street. And, oh, by the way, some stupid Richmond police officer gave me an improper driving ticket for no reason."
Michaela smiled. "Were you parked illegally?"
Dottie glared at her but said nothing. Michaela had her answer.
Dottie began again, "Okay, so after you and the detective left, I parked next door to Dr. Dude's office, walked through the snow-covered bushes and snuck into the back door."
Michaela was mortified. "You did what?"
“Just what I said,” Dottie glared at her defiantly. “I hid my car, walked through the bushes and went into Dr. Dude's office by the back entrance. No one saw me, I can assure you."
Michaela’s brain exploded as she shook her head. She fought to keep control of her temper. "Okay. Then what happened?"
"I snuck into the storage room, you know, the room between Dr. Dude's office and the staff kitchen. It's where they store all the dental supplies, like toothbrushes, mouthwash, and the stuff they make those impressions from.”
Mic nodded impatiently. “Yeah, I know. Then what?”
Dottie continued to stress the point. “I’m talking about the room where they keep the metal plates they stick into your mouth when you can hardly swallow or breathe."
"Yeah, I got it. Go on." Mic was irritated and afraid of what was coming next.
Dottie's ice blue eyes widened, and she whispered, "Dr. Dude came into his office and got a call on his cell phone."
Mic noticed that Dottie’s hand was shaking as she reached for her glass of sherry.
"A phone call? From whom?"
Dottie's voice was low and she said quietly, "I don't really know, but I'm sure the man was Russian. He said something to Dude about 'taking care' of Allison. He also said to have her ready tonight or else."
Michaela felt her heart race, and her stomach sank. Oh my, this is sounding more and more like international crime. My friend from the state police is right. "Or else, what?" Mic held back her excitement to keep Dorothy on track. She didn’t want her to forget what she had to tell.
"I did hear most everything, but I was so excited I may have forgotten some of it... but I did hear the man...oh, by the way, did I mention that I think he was Russian?"
"Yes, yes you did. What else did you hear?" Mic hoped her voice didn’t sound as impatient as she felt.
"I'm sure he threatened Dr. Dude. As a matter of fact, he called him ‘Nickolov’. I believe that’s a Russian word for Nicholas."
"Yes, go on," Michaela urged, eager to hear what was next.
"He told Dude that if he didn’t ‘take care of Allison’ tonight he would hurt Dr. Dude’s children and his new wife."
Mic was quiet for a moment as she processed this information.
Dottie took a break and settled against the cushions in her chair, exhausted from telling her tale. Just then, Michaela heard a knock on the door, and Cookie entered with a crystal goblet, her mineral water, and their hors d'oeuvres.
“Thanks, Cookie,” Michaela said as the faithful housekeeper set out the food and prepared to leave. "It looks just great. Thank you so much."
Cookie turned around, smiled, and waved at Michaela. "You're welcome, Detective. Any time."
Angel stood and walked toward Cookie and looked at her expectantly as the housekeeper removed a plate of especially prepared “healthy” treats for him, made of oatmeal, peanut butter, roast beef, and carrots.
“Here you go, boy, made especially for you,” she exclaimed as she placed the platter of treats on the oriental carpet.
Angel wagged his tail furiously and gave her his best doggie smile—broad, wide, and comical—then he proceeded to devour the treats. He was in Heaven every time he came to Dottie’s house. Mic and Cookie grinned at each other, and Dottie smiled thinly.
"Cookie, don't forget. I retired. I'm no longer a police detective. Just a civilian, like you."
Cookie smiled at her. "Oh yes, you are, Michaela. Sure ‘nuf you are, but you'll always be a detective," Cookie promised in her wise way.
The door closed, and Michaela moved her chair even closer to Dottie. "Okay, what else can you tell me about Smirkowitz? And the Russian?"
Dottie thought back over her afternoon before continuing. "There’re a few more things. Let me eat a little bit so I can get my brain cells working again. Things seem a bit foggy now.”
Michaela could tell that Dottie was exhausted and tired of talking.
Michaela carefully checked out her friend. She seemed calmer. She reached for Dottie’s thin wrist and counted her pulse. It was one hundred ten, not too bad for an eighty-two-year-old.
Dottie reached for a small sandwich. “I'm hungry. I haven't eaten since I had that sandwich over on Cary Street this afternoon."
Michaela nodded, and the two women continued to chew silently for a few minutes until Dottie was able to continue.