Sara Lee blinked. "What… what do you mean?"
Lucy's tight-lipped smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I heard there was some excitement at the vet clinic this morning. The sheriff was called. Who knows? Perhaps the key to what you are looking for is someone very close to you."
Sara Lee felt her stomach clench. The vet clinic. Carl's clinic.
"Take care, ladies," Lucy said, already walking past them. She called over her shoulder as she headed down the street.
Sara Lee and Nana June stood there for a moment, watching Lucy disappear around the corner. Pippi sat down at Sara Lee's feet and looked up at her, tail wagging slowly.
"That was… weird," Sara Lee said finally.
"Very strange." Nana June's brow was furrowed. "Shewas trying to tell us something without actually telling us."
"The vet clinic." Sara Lee's voice was strident. "Carl's clinic. Nana June, what could have happened?"
"I don't know, but we need to find out." Nana June gently touched Sara Lee's arm. "Come on. Let's go home, and then you can call Carl."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, Sara Lee's mind racing with possibilities. What had happened at Carl's clinic? Why had the sheriff been called? And what did Lucy mean about the key being someone very close to them?
By the time they reached their home, Sara Lee's anxiety had grown into a knot in her chest. Whatever had happened, it couldn't be good.
"I’ll get Pippi inside," Nana June said as they climbed the porch steps. "Try calling Carl. If you can’t get hold of him, I’ll call Ted. Surely his grandfather knows what’s going on!"
She hurried inside with Mister Smee’s carrier and opened it so he could jump out. He stretched and then jumped onto the back of the sofa, staring out the window and grooming himself with elaborate dignity, as if he hadn't just been caught behaving like an ordinary cat after a mouse.
Pulling her phone from her purse, Sara Lee dialed Carl’s number, but he didn’t pick up. She hesitated, not wanting to call the vet clinic number, preferring to speak directly to him.
Just as Nana June walked back into the room, shetried again, unsuccessfully. Frustration filled her, and she said, “I think you may have to call Ted.”
Her grandmother’s gaze moved behind her through the screen door, and she shook her head slowly. “I think we’re about to get our answers.”
Sara Lee turned and saw Carl’s SUV stop outside their house, and he and his grandfather alighted. The two men, with tight faces, headed up the front walk. Nana June walked to the screen door and pushed it open, letting them inside, as Sara Lee’s feet stayed rooted to the floor.
“Looks like I need to make some tea,” Nana June said.
17
SARA LEE
The four of them sat in the living room, the tension so thick Sara Lee could barely breathe. She busied herself bringing in the tray with teacups, her hands trembling slightly as she set it on the table. Nana June followed with a platter of oatmeal raisin cookies she'd baked the day before, along with small triangle sandwiches.
Ted looked at the treats and shook his head. "Not sure it's a cookie kind of day, Junie."
Nana June looked at him soberly as she settled into her chair. "There's never a time when it'snota cookie kind of day."
Ted’s lips quirked slightly before he sobered once again.
Sara Lee poured tea for everyone, but her gaze was pinned on Carl. He sat on the edge of the sofa, his shoulders hunched, his hands clasped between his knees. The exhaustion in his face made her chest ache.
"What's going on?" Sara Lee asked, her voice littlemore than a whisper. Clearing her throat, she spoke again, “Carl, what’s happened?”
"Looks like I'm a suspect in Raymond’s death," Carl said quietly.
A gasp left her lips, and all she could utter was, "No... no..."
"Why don't you tell us all about it?" Nana June suggested gently, handing Carl a cup of tea that he took but didn't seem to notice. He finally looked down and took a sip before setting it on the coffee table.
Carl nodded, his jaw tight. He stared at his hands for a moment before speaking. "I got to the clinic early this morning. We had a euthanasia scheduled first thing, and I like to get everything ready beforehand so the client isn't waiting around when they're already upset." He paused, swallowing hard. "When I got to the medication cabinet, I suddenly remembered that I had no recollection if the previously filled syringe of pentobarbital had been properly disposed of."
