CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Sarah arrived at the Southwind Pub exactly at seven. Harlan, Carole, and Dr. Vera were already seated at a large round table, each with a different drink in front of them. Harlan had his usual neat scotch, and she was sure Vera’s was the Pub’s specialty Long Island Tea, but Carole’s stumped her. She would have guessed beer because it was in a frosted mug, but she doubted any beer was ever garnished with a cherry. Sarah deliberately took the seat next to Dr. Vera, hoping the drink would loosen her tongue and because it guaranteed one of the other doctors would have to sit on Sarah’s other side.
Harlan caught the attention of their waiter and indicated refills for all, and that Sarah needed to place an order. When the waiter, whom Sarah knew from the days when this was still the original Southwind restaurant, approached her, she ordered a glass of the house sauvignon blanc. She quietly made it clear to him she was buying only the first round for everyone, so he would need to run different tabs.
“No problem. Before you got here, Mr. Endicott filled me in on your plans for the first round and that he would cover drinks thereafter.”
“Did he now?” Sarah glanced at Harlan.
He grinned back at her impishly, making her suspect he guessed what the waiter and she were discussing.
“Yes, ma’am. He did. I’ll be back with your wine and the other drinks in a minute.”
“Thank you.”
Although it was slightly longer than a minute, the waiter was true to his word about his speed. He placed Sarah’s wine in front of her just as Drs. Tonya and Glenn arrived.
“Perfect timing.” Sarah quickly assumed the hostess role as the doctors settled in at the table, Dr. Glenn next to her and Dr. Tonya in the remaining seat next to Dr Vera. “What would you like?”
After two beers were ordered, full greetings were exchanged. “And please,” Dr. Glenn said, “let’s forget about the use of the doctor title tonight. We get enough of that at the clinic, right?”
While his two colleagues made sounds and motions of agreement, Sarah took advantage of the reference to the clinic to confirm her understanding that all three had had training in combatives. “I didn’t realize until today that the three of you served together. I wouldn’t have thought three veterinarians would have been assigned to the same unit.”
“We don’t usually talk about our military service,” Tonya said.
Carole quickly interjected, “My fault, Tonya. It came up when Sarah was in the waiting area when General Beau got so upset.”
“As agitated as the General was, I was very impressed with how the three of you calmed him down, and that’s when Carole filled me in on his history.”
Vera pulled the bowl of nuts closer to her. “There’s no secret we all served our country, but we weren’t in the same unit. I met Glenn in basic training, but while we didn’t serve together as veterinarians we kept in touch. Tonya started out as an animal handler with a unit that was later combined with the one Glenn was in.”
She stopped and drank more of her Long Island Tea. “My relationship with Tonya predates our active duty time. We went to vet school together, both on military scholarships. After graduation, we began paying back our obligations at the same time. Even though we were sent to different duty stations, we remained friends. It was only through references in her letters to me that I realized my two friends had become friends.”
“It’s a small world,” Sarah noted.
“And getting smaller every day,” Harlan observed.
The other two doctors nodded in agreement as Vera continued, “When it came time to be discharged, it was a no-brainer to practice together. We never made a big deal one way or the other of being vets because we decided when we established the clinic it would be better to be known by either our individual names or by the clinic’s name, rather than constantly hearing jokes about our service and career.”
Glenn accepted his drink from the waiter. “That’s what she says. I always thought Three Veteran Vets had a fun ring to it, but I was outvoted by my partners.”
“And it’s a good thing you were,” Carole said. “Could you see what kind of sign my brother would have put up if his partners had let him have his way. Our grandmother would probably have rolled over in her grave.”
“Or, in her own patriotic way, Granny might have sat straight up and saluted us.” He held his glass up. “In fact, I’ll offer a toast to Granny because without her generosity, there wouldn’t be a clinic.”
Everyone clinked their glasses against his, except Carole. Sarah was curious why that was. “You know, I met your grandmother shortly before she moved to the retirement home. Bill, my ex, and I were getting settled in the big house and she brought us a pie as a welcoming gift.”
“That sounds like Granny.”
Carole nodded. “She loved to bake. Was it a Granny Smith apple pie? They were her favorite. When we were kids, she supplied her own apples from a giant tree out back, where the parking lot is now.”
Sarah could see the old lady delivering the pie in her mind, but she didn’t recall anything except being in such a tizzy that she’d merely said thank you without inviting the woman in. She’d never had a chance to reciprocate because Glenn and Carole’s granny moved to the retirement home a few days later.
“It might have been an apple pie, but I don’t really remember. It was a long time ago now. Speaking of long ago, after she died, your house sat vacant for years. Although it was kept up well, it always looked so lonely. I’m glad the two of you decided to bring it back to life.”
“That’s all Glenn’s doing. It’s his house. I’m merely the beneficiary of my big brother’s altruistic nature.”
A hush fell over the table before Glenn, staring at his sister, picked up the conversation. “Granny did different things for each of us.” He turned his attention back to everyone at the table. “When Granny died and left me the house, I was in vet school on a military scholarship. That meant I still had to finish school and give Uncle Sam back a few years. I guess I could have sold the house, but I’d always loved it. When I ran the numbers, I realized, other than taxes and maintenance, there were no big expenses associated with keeping the house vacant until I finished my commitment and could decide what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.”
“Luckily,” Tonya said, “Glenn became friends with Vera and me. We helped convince him Wheaton and his house would be the perfect location for our animal clinic.”
“Once they had me convinced the house could work for what we wanted to do, things fell into place. I met Jacob, who helped us tremendously and who introduced me to Cliff.”
“Of course, part of twisting Glenn’s arm was that Tonya and I just happened to be available to staff the clinic with him.” Vera winked. “We knew he couldn’t do it without us.”
Glenn rolled his eyes as he glanced at the ceiling. “What choice did I have? When these two decide on a course of action, beware!”
“I’ve learned how that goes.” Harlan nodded toward Sarah.
This time, everyone, except Sarah, laughed. Instead, she bristled at his comment. She cut their merriment off by bringing up the more morbid subject of Botts’s death. “I understand one of the reasons Botts died was his helmet didn’t adequately protect his head. When I told Eloise I didn’t understand why his helmet didn’t work, she suggested I ask the three of you about the Wildcats and the different types of helmets people wear.”
The three vets looked at one another before Tonya finally spoke. “We really don’t like to speak ill of the dead.”
Recognizing this as a similar theme when it came to anyone talking about Botts or Riley, Sarah hastened to reassure the veterinarians. “Oh, I’m not asking you to. I want to help Jacob if possible, but I don’t know anything about motorcycles or motorcycle gear. Eloise calls herself a retiree Wildcat, who only knows enough to have fun. She said the three of you are more hardcore riders who can explain bikes and helmets better.”
Trying to read each of their faces and body language, Sarah decided Tonya’s serious expression and clasped hands still meant she didn’t want to talk about this subject, whereas Glenn didn’t really seem to mind. He made it clear however his interest was in eating when he signaled the waiter back to their table and asked for a menu.
“I hope you don’t mind. I was so busy today I didn’t have time for lunch. The Southwind Pub has such great burgers I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone. Anyone else hungry?” He offered the menu to the rest of the table. After everyone placed an order and the waiter left with the menu, Glenn turned back to Sarah. “I don’t know that I’d call any of us hardcore riders, but ask away.”
“Okay, let’s start with his helmet? Was it like the ones you wear?”
Tonya snorted. “Not in the slightest. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a pudding bowl helmet.”
When no one else laughed at the description of his helmet as a pudding bowl, Sarah stifled her inclination to giggle at the image. Maybe, except for her, they’d all already heard the joking reference and it was no longer funny to them.
“Botts liked looking fashionable. Safety wasn’t always his top priority.” Vera stopped talking when Tonya cleared her throat.
Sarah wondered what the dynamics were between the two of them. It also dawned on her that the pudding bowl description might not have been a bad joke. “I don’t think I understand. Is pudding bowl an actual type of helmet?”
“Yes,” Vera said. “Helmets come in all sizes and shapes. Glenn and Tonya wear full face helmets, which are designed to give the maximum protection. Their helmets cover their entire heads. They have immovable pieces that protect the skull and chin. In order to talk or eat, they take their helmets off. I prefer a little more flexibility but still want safety, so I use a flip-up or modular helmet. It comes down and covers my skull the same way as theirs, but my chin bar can be flipped up or removed.” She pantomimed flipping up her chin bar.
“Botts was one of the riders who went crazy on the aftermarket stuff. Because he liked to go more for show. He preferred the look of a pudding bowl helmet that was open in the front and didn’t come down far in the back.” Vera traced the shape in the air with a long, thin finger. “It has good lines, doesn’t mess the hair quite as badly, and is showier than ours. The pudding bowl helmet also doesn’t have a chin piece. Basically, it doesn’t cover more than the top of the head, ears, and cheeks. Botts was a top-of-the-line, showy-versus-safety guy.”
“I ride a pretty well-outfitted Harley,” Glenn said, “but Botts’s Mercedes was as decked out with aftermarket stuff as he could get. If that wasn’t enough, he dressed to match his bike.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you looked closely at his handlebars and grips on any given day, you’d notice there was a stripe of the same color on the side of his pants and jacket. He also had coordinated blue, black, and red pairs of gloves.”
“Did he have different helmets to match his outfits?”
“No, only one, but he used different colored stickers on it so it would coordinate, too. There’s no guarantee our type of helmet would have protected him the way his bike fell, especially if the gossip that his helmet had a split in it before the accident is true, but there is no question the design of his helmet didn’t serve the purpose he needed when he hit. Whether or not his helmet was already damaged is meaningless. It was the chest injury he sustained from the handlebar or whatever hit him rather than bashing the back of the head, where he had no helmet protection, that was fatal.”
“How horrible.” Sarah shuddered.
Carole echoed her sentiments. “No matter what we thought about him as a person”—her voice trailed off but then picked up again—“at least he died doing something he truly enjoyed.”
So far, other than superficial “Bless his heart” comments, like Carole’s, no one had really said anything nice about Botts. Even though she’d previously said she wasn’t interested in what they thought of him, Sarah decided to try to find out. “You’ve all mentioned knowing Botts in different ways. Would you help me get a picture of him for Jacob or Riley’s sake?”
It seemed like it was the mention of Jacob’s name that melted them because they all started talking at once until Harlan raised his hand and, in a voice between a schoolteacher’s and a litigator’s, said, “One at a time, please. Let’s go around the table. Glenn, why don’t you start.”
As Glenn shifted position in his chair and played with his drink, Sarah wished Harlan had started with one of the women. Sarah had a feeling something important was bubbling right below the surface with them. Because she was afraid Glenn’s reluctance to talk might affect the others, she intervened and pointed to the women sitting at the table. “Now, Harlan. You can’t ask Glenn to go first on a night he’s outnumbered. Ladies first, please.”
“I’ll start, but realize I can’t speak for the experiences everyone had.” Tonya gestured with her hand to include everyone at the table. “The one thing all of us have in common when it comes to Botts is that at some point in time we went out with him.”
“Whoa,” Glenn said. “Don’t count me in there. I rode with Botts a few times, but I never dated him. In fact, I wasn’t too thrilled when my sister went out with him.”
Sarah wondered when Carole went out with Botts, but she wanted to keep Glenn’s train of thought going. “What did you have against him?”
Glenn paused before answering. He looked at Carole, but rather than meeting his gaze, she concentrated on a spot on the table. “Botts was a narcissistic show-off. Whether it was his ride, his gear, or simply himself, he had an attitude of entitlement. There were times he reminded me of an impulsive eighteen-year-old strung out on steroids. Guys like that don’t necessarily tend to be safe riders or nice human beings.”
Sarah was confused. She understood his feelings for Botts were negative, but she didn’t understand if Glenn’s reference to steroids was his way of saying Botts had been doing drugs or something that wasn’t on the up-and-up. “What do you think he was doing?”
Glenn squirmed in his seat. “It’s not like I really know. He always gave me the feeling he was slimy and holding his hand out for something, so I tried to avoid the guy. What I couldn’t avoid were the rumors circulating about how he scheduled and conducted city inspections.”
Harlan leaned across the table. “Glenn, was he taking bribes?”
“I can’t say. That’s what I heard, but he never outright asked me for money. Still, there was something tied to his last inspection of the clinic that didn’t sit right with me.”
“Was that the only reason you didn’t want to ride with him?” Harlan asked.
For a moment, Glenn sucked his cheeks in and pressed his lips together. “No, that was only part of why I stopped signing up for rides with him.”
“What was the rest?” Harlan kept the timbre of his voice strong.
“I didn’t like the way he treated the female members of the Wildcats. He was dismissive, rude, and patronizing.”
This was one of those times when Sarah wanted to say, “Tell me what you really think,” but she bit her tongue. Better to let him keep rambling or have one of the others disagree with him. Only, no one did.