Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(62)
These were the thoughts in my head as I drug my garbage can to my curb for its Friday morning pick-up, while contemplating whether or not I could pull off being a booty call for several men in between studying medical textbooks and reviewing toxicology studies. Would probably solve some of my tension issues without worrying that I might get hurt or have some asswipe do the foot-stomp on my heart.
I needed to get to the hospital and then get on with my clandestine arrangements.
“Yoohoo, Erin!”
Across the street, the widow, Mrs. Shumway, was waiving to me, pulling the front of her beige wool coat over her sunken chest. That combined with her grape purple pants that were too big and quilted black winter boots made for quite the fashion statement.
I put my plastic recycle bin next to my garbage can and waved back, noticing she was actually hailing me. I trotted across the street, avoiding the leftover snow and slushy puddles.
“Morning,” she greeted, straining as she dragged her heavy-duty garbage can behind her. Even when he was in his eighties, that was a job that Mr. Shumway used to handle.
Her bright smile was never quite the same after he passed, forever altered by an irreplaceable loss. “Morning, Mrs. Shumway. Can I give you a hand with that?”
She cinched her coat tighter while I pulled her garbage to the curb. “Oh, thank you, dear. My hands aren’t as strong as they used to be. It sure is cold out this morning.”
I didn’t need my medical degree to see the late stage Rheumatoid Arthritis crippling her. “Yes, it is. I heard we’re getting more snow tonight. I’m ready for spring.”
Mrs. Shumway’s gaze turned distant. “Spring was always Frank’s favorite season.”
I saw her slipping away to some fond memory, one that was bittersweet. “I’m off this weekend so don’t even think about trying to shovel on your own. I’ll be over as soon as it stops so don’t worry. Do you need anything at the store? I have to get to work soon but if I leave now I can run for you.”
Her nurturing smile returned. “Oh, no, dear. That’s sweet of you but I have everything I need.”
“Okay. Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but I should probably get going. I have a meeting this morning.”
“Oh, then I won’t keep you. I was just wondering if you were happy with the handyman you hired the other day. I have some work that needs to be done and I’m not sure who to even call. There are so many crooks these days, all wanting to take advantage now that my husband is gone. Frank used to take care of all of the maintenance around here.” She waived a hand across her snow-covered front lawn. “But the old house has seen better days.” She sighed, her weathered face turning quizzical. “Was he expensive?”
I was completely confused, wondering which one of us was getting Alzheimer’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Shumway. I didn’t hire anyone.”
She frowned at me. “Well, you had a young man over there on a ladder a couple of days in a row. Fixed the loose shingles above your garage door on Tuesday and was tinkering around the place all morning on Wednesday. See my gutter?” She pointed and my eyes instinctively followed. “All that heavy snow is ripping mine off its hinges. If that comes down I’ll end up having to replace the whole thing and I can’t afford to do that. That’s going to cost a lot of money and I’m on a fixed income.”
While she went on about her late husband’s measly pension, my brain fizzled, but sure enough, my gutter was fixed. So was the piece of vinyl siding that had pulled away near the roof peak and flapped against the house quite loudly every time the wind blew. What the hell? Why hadn’t I noticed?
“Hmm. My dad must have fixed it.” But why didn’t he call to tell me? And when the heck did he have time? Between the hours of work and sleep, he was running my mom back and forth to the hospital. Maybe Chris or Nate had been by. It would be theirs to manage soon enough.
She squinted and shook her head. “Wasn’t your father, Erin. It was a younger man, your age. Quite strapping, too. I wish these people would at least put a sign or something on their work trucks. You know, Frank and I lived on this street for fifty-nine years and they may not think that people are keeping watch, but I see everything that goes on around here. I’m home all day and television these days stinks. Nothing but talk show rubbish. Who is your baby’s daddy and idiots who need a swift kick in the ass. How am I supposed to know if someone is here to fix things or to rob one of us? Would be nice to know. Just because he looked all clean cut doesn’t mean he’s not up to no good. They say it’s always the ones you don’t suspect that—”
My inner filter kicked in; the surge of information caused my nerves to spring. “He was in a truck?”
She nodded. “Yes. A shiny black one. The one day I saw he had the letters ‘ATTF’ on his coat but I couldn’t find it in the phone book. I looked under home repair and construction too.”
I swear I could hear the blood rushing through my body after my heart skipped a very long beat.
I TYPED MY password into the computer system, doing my best to replace my muddled thoughts with some sense of focus. I’d worked on three patients that coded, one stabbing victim, diagnosed a mysterious rash that turned out to be a severe allergic reaction to an ingredient in the patient’s breakfast cereal, and kept some woman from overdosing.