Vision Of Murder
Excerpt
A scream pierced the quiet of the waiting room. Heather dug her fingernails into the back of Jack’s hand. More screams filtered down the hall from an exam room in the optometrist’s office.
“That doesn’t sound good,” said Steve, who sat to her right.
Heather noticed Steve had dropped his folded white cane and searched for it with his feet. “A little more to your right.”
Jack pried her claws from his hand and examined the divots. “Relax. She’s probably one of those hysterical types. You’re here for a simple eye exam. Nothing to worry about.”
The screams caused those waiting to squirm in their seats as Steve retrieved his cane. “I can tell the difference between a scream caused by hysteria, grief, or pain. That’s pain, and it’s the real thing.” He leaned forward and turned his head toward Jack. “The optometrist is your buddy. Go find out what’s going on.”
“No,” said Heather, as she placed her hand on Jack’s thigh. She considered the suddenness of her response and changed it. “If it’s some sort of emergency, they don’t need you getting in the way.”
Steve leaned back in his chair. “She’s right. If it’s an emergency, we should let the pros handle it.”
Minutes passed. The screams subsided, replaced with deep sobs. In addition, sharp, indistinguishable words filtered down the hall leading to the exam rooms. Heather leaned into Steve. “Can you make out what they’re saying?”
“Accusations and threats of lawsuits. The woman sounds middle-age, perhaps the mother of the patient.” He lifted his chin. “I hear sirens and an air horn.”
Jack spoke up. “I don’t hear anything.”
“You will. They’re getting louder.”
Steve’s prediction proved accurate. Firefighters filed past, followed by a duo whose sleeve patches identified them as EMTs from The Woodlands, Texas’s ambulance service. A collapsible gurney followed a short time later.
Heather looked down and noticed she’d not only left indentations in the back of Jack’s hand, but had brought tiny amounts of blood in a couple of spots. She reached into her purse and retrieved a fresh tissue. “Sorry I’m so uptight.”
“What did she do?” asked Steve.
Jack dabbed his hand with the tissue. “This cat I’m dating has sharp claws. The screams scared her and the back of my hand caught the worst of it.”
“That reminds me of the time I crept up on Maggie when she was drying a cast-iron skillet. I grabbed her right under the ribs and she let out a screech. That’s the last time I pulled that stunt.”
“You didn’t duck fast enough?” asked Heather.
“She spun and put a lump on my knob that took two weeks to go away. There I was, laid out on the kitchen floor with her standing over me with a black skillet. When she realized what she’d done, she dropped the skillet. It landed in the worst place you can imagine.”
Heather tried to subdue the mental image, but a snort broke through her determination not to laugh. The other waiting patients turned their heads and stared at her.
The squeak of wheels brought Heather’s attention back to the scene at hand. She expected to see an elderly patient, perhaps someone who’d fallen and broken a hip. Instead, a young woman was strapped to the gurney being wheeled toward the door. The skinny jeans, high-top designer tennis shoes, and Texas State University sweatshirt gave indications of a college-age student. She wore a bulbous gauze patch over her right eye as her body convulsed in sobs.
Following the gurney parade, a woman in her mid-forties strode past. Her face and neck were splotches of crimson and cream. She spun and pointed an accusatory finger at the man wearing a white lab coat. “Quit apologizing, and don’t tell me I shouldn’t call the police. My daughter walked in here with two good eyes and now…”
She spun and trotted to catch up without completing her thoughts.
The man on the receiving end of the woman’s wrath was Chris Craddock, the optometrist who was to examine Heather’s eyes. She recognized him from photos of a five-day cruise Jack and some of his buddies had taken out of Galveston. Buried in work, as usual, Heather missed out on the vacation. It worked out for the best because Steve needed her to help solve a murder. The cruise had turned into an all-guy trip for Jack and three others.
Chris took in a deep breath, let it out, and thrust his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. He stood as if not knowing what to do next.
Heather used the time of silence to note Dr. Craddock’s physical appearance so she could relate the details to Steve—five feet, eleven inches, approximately 175 pounds, trim, neat appearance, expensive slacks and shoes, no visible scars or tattoos, and no wedding band.
“As I’m sure you’re all aware,” said Chris, “there’s been an unfortunate incident here this morning. I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but the remainder of this morning’s appointments are cancelled. Either myself or a member of the staff will call you and reschedule as soon as possible. To make up for the inconvenience, I’ll reduce the charge for a standard appointment by twenty-five percent.”
After he herded people out of the waiting room, Chris grabbed Jack by the sleeve of his shirt. “Bring Heather. We need to talk.”
“Steve’s here too. If it’s all right, I’ll bring him along.”
“Is he the detective you’re always talking about?”
Jack answered with a nod.
“Good. I may need a couple of top-notch private investigators and a talented lawyer. Let’s go to my office and I’ll tell you what happened.”
Jack went over to Steve and Heather. “Chris wants to talk to us in his office.”
Before they could take a step, a woman wearing a dark blue smock entered the office and ran into Chris’s arms. “I came as soon as I could get away.” The woman looked to be in her mid-twenties, but her demeanor and squealing voice made her seem younger, more like a thirteen-year-old at a concert.
Chris pushed her to arm’s length. “Did you lock the store?”
“Not exactly. I put the closed sign on. What happened?”
Chris took a step back. “Sandi, go open the store. I don’t have time to explain, we can’t afford to lose any business today. I’m counting on you to sell glasses to everyone who walks through the door. Don’t forget to up-sell a spare pair and sunglasses. I’ll stop by and explain what happened before I go to lunch.”
The woman pushed out her bottom lip, but nodded her acceptance of the assignment. Heather watched her walk toward the door. If Sandi’s selling technique was half as good as her walk-away, Chris’s business should be booming.
Heather shifted her gaze to the men in the room. Jack and Chris were still staring at the door. She cleared her throat and spoke, breaking Jack’s focus. “Who was that?”
“That’s Sandi Fields,” said Chris. “She manages my retail store next door. Well, not really mine; the bank and I are co-owners of the store and this office. I write the prescriptions then send the customers next door with a percentage-off coupon for their glasses. Sandi’s the best eyeglass seller I’ve ever met. She flirts with the men and compliments the women. She’s great with teenage girls, too.”
Jack looked at the door and shook his head. “You have a model for an assistant, and I have my mother.” He must have realized the thin ice he’d walked onto and cleared his throat. “Of course, I wouldn’t trade Mom for the world. She’s the best receptionist and office administrator I could hope for.”
Heather gave Jack an exaggerated pat on the back. “Good tactical retreat.”
Instead of going back to his office, Chris went to the door and threw the latch to lock it. “Now we can talk without being interrupted.”
Steve held out his hand. “Hello, Chris, I’m Steve Smiley. Why don’t you stop pacing and have a seat?” Steve returned to his chair and asked, “What caused that young woman to scream?”
Heather and Jack returned to their chairs and waited for Chris to join them. Instead, he continued to pace. “It was a routine eye exam that included dilating her eyes.”
“What’s her name?” asked Steve.
“Mattie Arnold. She’s a sophomore at Texas State University. She’s been my patient for years and is only a little far-sighted. Easily corrected with glasses or contacts. Like most girls her age, she wears contacts. Her mother has always been a bit of a helicopter parent, but we got along fine until today.”
Jack interrupted. “Cut to the chase. Why all the screaming and the ambulance?”
Chris gave an exaggerated nod to his head. “I was getting to that. She came out of the chair when I put a dilating drop in her eye. I went into full emergency mode and irrigated her eye with water. It was quite the struggle. I don’t know why she reacted so violently.”
Steve uncrossed his legs. “You must have a theory.”
“I’ve seen nothing like it in all my years of practice.”
“Are you sure you administered the right drops?”
Chris thrust his right hand into the pocket of his lab coat. “I have the bottle right here. It’s the correct label. We use this stuff every day and have never had a problem with it.”
“Was Mattie your first patient of the day?” asked Steve.
“Yes.”
Jack rubbed his chin. “I’m thinking like a defense attorney. If I remember the last time I came in for an exam when you dilated my eyes it stung a little, but soon went away. Is that right?”
“Yeah. The pain level should never exceed two or three.”
“Was it a fresh bottle?”
“Now that you mention it, I don’t recall. We keep it locked in a cabinet at night, but leave it out during the day.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” asked Heather.
“Sorry, there is no ‘we’ at the current time. There used to be, but my assistant moved on. I haven’t had time to hire a new one.”
Jack took his turn. “Is there any chance the manufacturer made a bad batch of drops?”
Chris shrugged. “I guess anything’s possible, but the controls they use are bulletproof.”
Heather looked at Jack, and he returned her gaze.
Steve picked up the questioning where Jack left off. “Can you think of anyone who would like to see harm come to you or your practice?”
“Not really.”
“What about disgruntled customers or an employee you let go recently?”
“No one stands out.”
Jack piped up. “What about Melody?”
“Who’s Melody?” asked Steve.
Jack answered for Chris. “The spurned ex-wife. A messy divorce resulted in Melody getting the kids, the house, the—”
Chris spat out the rest of the list. “She also took over my practice and got the best dog I’ll ever own. She’s a cat person, so go figure.” He cocked his head. “Why did you say you’re thinking like an attorney?”
“Something bad happened here today, and the girl’s mother likely wants a head as a souvenir. I can almost smell a lawsuit.”
Steve added, “I don’t want to worry you unnecessarily, but it would be wise to talk to an attorney and start planning a strategy on how to handle this.”
Heather added, “Expect a thorough investigation. Criminal and civil.”
The words had no more left her mouth when a series of sharp knocks sounded. Chris looked at Jack and raised his eyebrows.
Steve puffed out his cheeks. “That will be the police. You’d better open up and get this over with.”
Heather looked on as a vaguely familiar man entered the waiting room wearing a nice, but off-the-rack sports coat and slacks. “Are you Dr. Christopher Craddock?” The man showed his badge and identification.
“Yes.”
Steve stood. “Detective Hall, is that you?”
The detective sidestepped Chris to get a look at who’d called him by name. “It’s Steve Smiley and his partner, Heather McBlythe. I thought you two only worked homicides.”
Steve and the detective took steps toward each other as Hall acknowledged Heather with a guarded smile and a nod.
It took Heather a few extra seconds to recognize the detective, probably because he’d shaved his mustache and reduced the hair on his head to nothing but short stubble. Hall and his then-partner were assigned to investigate the first case she and her blind mentor worked together—the murder of Steve’s former college roommate, Ned Logan. The success of solving that case led her and Steve to form their investigation partnership.
After the brief reunion, Hall got down to business. “We received a phone call about an incident that occurred earlier this morning. It seems a young woman came for an exam and left with damage to her eye. What can you tell me about that, Dr. Craddock?”
Jack spoke up by introducing himself as Chris’s attorney.
“I’m not here to arrest anyone” said Hall in an even voice. “This is a preliminary investigation where we take statements from witnesses.”
“I’ll need to consult with my client in private first.”
Chris raised an open hand toward the hall. “We can use my office.”
Steve took a step toward Detective Hall. “Why don’t you ask Heather and me your questions? She can tell you what she saw and heard. I’m good at details about what I heard. Then we can both tell you what Dr. Craddock told us.”
“That sounds like a good start. It will also give me time to talk to the receptionist.” He looked at Jack. “If I hear anything that rises to a crime, and your client is involved, things could change fast.”
Jack nodded.
The optometrist and the attorney walked out of the lobby and shut the door behind them.
Steve launched into a detailed account of what he’d heard. Heather added details of what she’d seen and heard. Steve took over again and added a detail or two of what Chris told them.
After scribbling notes, Hall looked up from his notebook. “Where’s the bottle of eye drops?”
Steve shrugged. “You’ll need to ask Dr. Craddock when he and Jack return.”
Heather and Steve sat side-by-side as Hall interviewed the receptionist. It didn’t take long, and his questions ended as Chris and Jack returned to the waiting room.
“Where’s the bottle of eye drops?” asked Hall.
Chris reached into the pocket of his lab coat and took out the bottle. “Right here.”
Hall reached out with a plastic evidence bag and motioned for Chris to place the plastic bottle in it. “I’ll have this analyzed and let you know what we find.”
Jack spoke up. “After consulting with my client, we’ve concluded it was a tragic incident, most likely caused by either a manufacturing error or someone tampering with the bottle prior to its arrival at this clinic. Either way, Dr. Craddock is beyond suspicion.”
“You’re probably right, but that’s not stopping the girl’s parents from making accusations.” Detective Hall shifted his attention to Steve. “Good to see you again, Steve, and you too, Heather.”
After the door closed behind the detective, Chris looked around the empty waiting room. “That puts an end to my morning appointments. How does a late breakfast sound? There’s a deli down the block with great coffee and pastries, or sandwiches and salads if you’re ready for an early lunch.”
“Sounds good. My treat,” said Heather.
Steve took a step toward the door. “Free food has always been my favorite kind.”
Jack guided Heather with his hand on her elbow. She took a last look down the hallway leading to the exam rooms and breathed a sigh of relief.
“You three go ahead,” said Chris. “I’ll tell the receptionist where I’m going and have her reschedule patients.”
Heather asked, “Don’t you need to stop at the retail shop and tell Sandi what happened?”
Chris dismissed the question with a flip of his wrist. “She can wait.”
The next morning, she was up, dressed, and ready to face another day at her office when she heard Steve’s phone ringing. His muffled voice didn’t allow her to hear his words. She was about to shout at him through Max’s special door when the flap opened.
“Detective Hall called. There’s a body in Melody Craddock’s eyeglass store.”