Too long an oration. Her face had flushed.
“Okay, thanks, ma’am.”
Sandra stood. “Is there anything else? I do have some chores.”
“Love to look at that tortoise, you don’t see those too often.”
She frowned. “Sorry, no-can-do. Glenn’s endangered and just getting over a virus. The state brought him to Will for treatment and when Will got him better, they gave us a special permit to keep him. We don’t let people get close to him.”
“Aha. Well, good for you.”
Automotive rumbling followed by the thump of a vehicle door shutting drew everyone’s attention to the front door. Moments later, Will Burdette, clad in a western shirt that matched his wife’s, khaki cargo pants, and dusty cowboy boots, stepped in and set down a hard case with a Red Cross sticker on the side while looking at us quizzically.
Pushing white hair off his forehead, he pulled out a Wash’n Dri, wiped his hands, rolled up the wipe, pocketed it. “I figured that Chevy for a cop car. What’s up, guys?”
Before we could answer, a loud drum paradiddle rocked the floor and the dog horde thundered in, swamping him. His grin was instantaneous and broad as he patted and mussed fur, rubbed behind ears, allowed himself to be licked. “They okay for T-R-E-A-T-S, sweetheart?”
Sandra said, “Already gave them Greenies.”
“Well,” said Will, “a few of the organic jerkies shouldn’t hurt.”
“You’re spoiling them, honey.”
“Someone has to.” Out of a pocket came a plastic bag stocked with small brown strips. Just as his wife had, Will Burdette gave the sit command before administering canapés to each animal.
“Be off and enjoy, my friends.” A hand waved and the celebrants raced away.
Milo and I had gotten up to shake Will Burdette’s hand. Huge mitts with the texture of seasoned hardwood.
I said, “Impressive training.”
Will Burdette said, “Sandy’s got the knack. So, what’s the story?”
Sandra said, “They’re following up. About Poland, of all things.”
“Poland?” Eye-tennis between the two of them.
Will squinted. “That’s kind of out of the blue. What’s the relevance?”
“Can’t get into it right now, Doctor. It’s just something we’re asking everyone.”
“Okay. Well, my answer is, it’s a country in East Europe, used to be communist.”
Another grin but none of the warmth he’d shown the dogs.
Sandra said, “They wanted to know if we’ve ever been there.”
Will laughed. “Our descent’s English and Scots-Irish, if I’d go anywhere it’d be the UK. Poland? Heh. That’s a little eastern for our taste. Although I have taken care of Malopolskis. That’s a horse with Polish and Arabian mixed lineage, gorgeous things. Had a client in Camarillo years ago, she kept a couple. Great temperament, really sweet eyes. But that’s about it Polish-wise.”
Another protracted speech.
Sandra said, “There’s some coffee left, hon.”
Will said, “Sure,” and took a couple of steps forward. Rolling gait worthy of a cinema cowboy.
As his wife headed for the kitchen, she said, “How’re the donkeys, Will?”
“For the most part thriving, one’s a little smaller than I’d like but supplements should help.”
“They come from Italy, caught colds on the trip over. Will got them better.”
He said, “They got themselves better, I just guided the process. Tough little buggers.”
Milo and I sat back down. Will Burdette cocked a shaggy eyebrow and remained on his feet. Finally, he placed himself on an absurdly small rococo chair, fingered a pearl snap on his shirt, and man-spread.
Milo said, “As I told Mrs. Burdette, we have identified the victim. Suzanne DaCosta.”
Will shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Did you ask the other side?”
“We’re asking everyone.”
“What’s it been, week and a half? Took a while.”
“That’s the way it sometimes goes, Doctor. In addition to updating you, we came here to see if either of you knew her.”
“Then I guess you came for nothing. Sorry, guys.”
Sandra returned with a significantly larger mug — beer-stein-plus — and handed it to her husband. Shifting behind him, the way she’d done with the dogs, she placed her hands on his shoulders. “Three cubes, hon. These guys take it black.”
“Do they? Tougher than me.” Will smiled, sipped. “Delish, sweetheart. So, is there anything else?”
Milo crossed his legs. I’m in no hurry to leave.
The movement brought Will’s eyes to his own widely splayed limbs. Like an architect’s compass contracting, he put his knees together, placed his boots square on the floor, pitched forward, squinting and setting his jaw. I’d prefer you get the hell out of here.
Not much coffee left in Milo’s cup but he nursed it, letting the silence congeal.
Will Burdette said, “Don’t want to rude, guys, but I’ve got a load of paperwork.”
Milo said, “Just a few more questions, Doctor. I’m sorry if this offends you but in tough cases we need to be thorough. Do you use fentanyl in your practice?”
Sandra’s eyes widened.
Will’s tightened. “You bet I do. It can be very effective with animals. You guys ever read Herriot?”
I said, “The Yorkshire vet.”
“You’ve read him?”
I shook my head.
Will Burdette said, “Great writer, I started off wanting to do human medicine, his books changed my mind. He’s got a thing in one of them about sick animals he thought were terminal being revived just by relaxing them and controlling their pain. You deal with the pain and it stops this self-destructive cycle that leads them to give up.”
I said, “Stress reduction. Giving the body a rest.”
“The body and the soul because let me tell you, guys, animals have souls. I know fentanyl gets a bad rap because the Chinese are cranking it out and pushing it over here and people have weak wills so they’re dying all over the place. But animals don’t get addicted, they just get better. So if I can save a sheep or a cow with fentanyl or any other drug, I’m going to use it. I’m assuming you’re asking me because fentanyl had something to do with that poor girl’s death.”
“It may be a factor.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Will Burdette. “So you’re wondering if this country vet took dope from his own heavily documented supply of controlled substances and it somehow ended up in a stranger who crashed his son’s wedding. No offense, but that’s some fantasy.”
“Unbelievable,” said Sandy, kneading her husband’s shoulders.
He said, “Mmm, feels good.”
Milo said, “Like I said, tough questions, Doctor. If you don’t mind, we’d like to know who has access to your controlled substances and could you please show us where you keep them?”
“I don’t have to show you, right?” said Will. “You’d need a search warrant or something along those lines.”
“We sure would.”
“The Constitution, Lieutenant. It’s a wonderful thing.” He stood, handed his coffee to his wife, and said, “C’mon, nothing to hide. But let’s make it snappy.”
Chapter 30
Sandra remained in the house as we followed Will outside. Next to the unmarked was another Ford pickup, blue with an extended cab, big mag wheels, and a sign on the door advertising his practice.
He veered toward the small pen, where the goats and sheep clamored to greet him. Petting and nuzzling, he laughed and said, “Catch you later, kids, pun intended,” and continued to the mini-me cabin.