“It was years ago, when I was just starting out, working with Martin.” Jane looked hard at her sandwich, as if debating which part she’d bite next. “We were treating a big dog, a Shepherd mix. Sometime after his visit, we got a call. The dog wouldn’t eat, was drooling froth, and obviously in some sort of distress.”
Sunny waited till Jane raised her eyes. “That doesn’t sound good.”
Jane responded with a professional’s shrug. “There’s no nice way to say it. Dogs are kind of dopey. They’ll eat stupid things. Cats do it, too, but with them it usually comes right up.” She gave Sunny a rueful smile. “Wait till the weather gets warmer—you’ll see.”
“I can hardly wait,” Sunny said.
“With dogs, especially big ones, the stupid things they eat can cause an obstruction farther along in the digestive system,” Jane went on. “The thing is, in a case like that, you’d expect the dog to be vomiting.”
Sunny put her sandwich down. “This is one hell of a lunchtime conversation.”
“Sorry, that kind of happens when vets talk shop,” Jane apologized. “Look, I’ll try to make it brief. There was obviously something wrong with the dog, and the owners went for another opinion. That vet took an X-ray to see if the problem might be in his mouth or throat. Instead, he found a piece of metal lodged in the muscles of the dog’s neck, near the shoulders.”
“The tip of the needle.” Sunny paused for a second. “But you sound as if this came as a surprise to you.”
“It did,” Jane replied. “And a damned unwelcome one. You see, I’m not the one who gave the shot. Frankly, that’s not an area where a vet should have even
“Sounds bad. But you say you didn’t give the shot, so why is it on your record?”
“Martin. He was the one who gave the shot. But he convinced me to take a hit for the team.”
“Because you could get away with a rookie mistake?” Sunny deduced.
“Yeah, just call me young and dumb. And the black mark went against my insurance, not his.”
Jane shook her head. “And now, all these years later, it comes back to haunt me. Even after I divorced Martin—hell, even after he’s dead—I can’t get rid of him!”
“Well, looking on the bright side, you don’t sound like someone who killed him,” Sunny said.
That shocked a laugh out of Jane. “Maybe I should have said that to Trumbull and Fitch, the Portsmouth Manhunters.”
“Or is that Womanhunters?” Sunny joked, but then got more serious. “Somehow, I don’t think that would persuade them.” She paused for a second, trying to choose her next words carefully. “Ben Semple stopped by today.”
“That’s one of the guys who works with Will, right?”
Sunny nodded. “I suppose you know that Trumbull has been asking Will some questions.”
“He mentioned it.” Jane made a face.
“Up to now, it was unofficial. But now he’s gone to Sheriff Nesbit.” Taking a deep breath, Sunny explained the political ramifications. By the time she’d finished, it was clear that Jane had heard only one thing.
“You’re saying Will won’t be able to talk to me anymore?” Jane’s surprise made her look all the more forlorn.
Sunny was afraid that if she answered yes, Jane might just burst into tears. Instead, Jane grabbed her by the arm, talking rapidly. “He’s one of the only people around here who went out in the world and came back to town. Who else can I talk to?” She stumbled over her words for a moment. “I mean, besides you. Folks are polite and everything, but I always feel as if they’re measuring me, seeing if I can really fit in again.”
“Sometimes I can even see it in Rita’s eyes when we’re in the office together.” Jane looked a little embarrassed, but straightened her shoulders and went on. “When times are quiet, I go back to the patient cages. It’s not just to check out the animals staying with us. It’s because, even if they can’t speak, I know that most of them like me.”
“What?” Sunny said in surprise. “Everyone likes you.” The words sort of burst out of her, words she’d thought for most of her life.
“Once upon a time I might have thought so.” If anything, Jane looked even sadder. “But nowadays they think, ‘There’s that Leister girl who tried to go off, but had to come back home, and still couldn’t hold on to her husband. And we had such high hopes for her.’”
Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “And now I bet lots of them think I actually killed him!”
