Strange Medicine (Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries #1)(28)

“Thirty minutes maybe?”

“Okay.” I chewed the end of my pen. “And then what did you do?”

“I went to bed.”

“What time was that?”

“Eleven sixteen.”

“That’s very exact.” I squinted.

He looked embarrassed. “I have this compulsion to know exactly what time it is when I go to bed. It’s annoying. If I make the mistake of not looking and I’m facing away from the clock, I have to move and look. It’s dumb, but I can’t relax unless I look at the time.”

“Huh. Okay.” I scribbled in my pad. “So how much later did you wake up?”

“I didn’t actually fall asleep. I was right on the verge when I heard something.”

“What did you hear exactly?”

He stared up at the ceiling. “Just like a thud. I don’t know. Maybe I heard the kitchen door open. I can’t be sure. But whatever it was, it jarred me because it seemed out of place.”

“Meaning what?”

“The noise sounded man-made. It’s nighttime, so there shouldn’t have been any noises in the house. Maybe the wind, or a dog or coyotes, but thuds and scrapes aren’t normal late at night.”

“I can buy that.” I spoke softly. “Okay, so something alerted you and you did what?”

“I sat up, and I think I went to the window and looked outside. I was afraid shovel guy might have come back.” He grimaced. “But I didn’t see anyone.”

“Why didn’t you just get back in bed?”

“Because I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d actually heard something or someone.” He rubbed his eyes. “I couldn’t relax until I checked out the house.”

“So you went downstairs.”

“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “The house is so damn creaky, Jesus. If there was someone there, they’d have heard me coming a mile away.”

“The good thing about that is you’d have heard them coming up to your room too.”

He shivered. “Shit. True enough.”

He seemed sincerely spooked at the idea of someone in his house. That reassured me that he was telling me the truth and wasn’t someone who could just murder another person in cold blood. “So you went downstairs,” I nudged.

“Yeah, I checked out my office, and then I saw the kitchen door was open.” He swallowed hard. “And I got the hell out of the house and called 911.”

“Okay.” I observed him, watching how his pulse beat swiftly and his cheeks were flushed. He even jumped when the door opened and Carl came in carrying a bottle of water.

He took it from my deputy. “Thanks. A cup would have been fine.”

“Figured that would hold you longer.” Carl left, closing the door behind him.

Maxwell looked up after taking a long pull off his water. “Is he trying to say I’m going to be here a while?”

“Don’t read into anything. Carl has no clue what’s going on, he’s just being nice.”

Maxwell leaned back in his chair. There were lines under his eyes that hinted at how tired he was, and he appeared disheveled. Usually he didn’t have a hair out of place, but right now he looked rumpled and exhausted.

“How many interactions did you have with Ned?”

He looked up. “I met him my first day here and then when he came for his actual appointment.”

“Did you two argue?”

He scowled. “Argue? What would we argue about?”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

“I gave him an ointment for his poison ivy, and he tried to sell me insurance. That was the extent of our interaction.”

“Did it annoy you that he wanted to sell you insurance?” I asked.

He gave a short laugh. “You mean did it send me into a murderous rage?” He shook his head. “No. Ned was a pest. But I didn’t hate him or want him dead.”

I thought about how agitated Ned had seemed lately when I’d seen him in town. “You say he had poison ivy?”

“Yep. Some friend gave him a cream that made it worse. But I set him right and gave him something that would get rid of it.” He winced. “Not that it matters now, I guess.”

I rubbed my chin. “That first night you called 911 when you saw an intruder… could that have been Ned you saw?”

He pulled his brows tight as if deep in thought. “I don’t know… maybe?”

“If he was in your yard tonight, he might have been there before.”

“I guess.”

I lifted my chin and watched him as I floated a theory. “Maybe you came across him last night, and you didn’t know it was him. Maybe you were scared and thought you were in danger. If you hit him over the head with the flashlight and accidentally killed him, that might be understandable.”

He widened his eyes. “That didn’t happen. I didn’t hit anyone with my flashlight.” He looked annoyed, but then he leaned forward. “I have no idea how blood got on my flashlight, but it wasn’t because I beat Ned to death with it.”

“Didn’t you notice there was something on your flashlight?”

He sighed, avoiding my gaze. “I thought something had leaked in my drawer.”