Chapter Thirteen
“Okay, Mother. I’ll come out there right after I feed Moishe,” Hannah said, glancing down at the cat who was rubbing up against her ankles. “Is there anything I should bring? I could stop at The Cookie Jar and pick up something.”
“No, dear. Barbara can’t have solid food yet. Norman said he was going to work on her bridge this afternoon and he told Doc that he’d bring it out to the hospital tomorrow. If her mouth has healed enough, he’ll put it in and then she’ll be able to eat soft food.”
“That’s good news,” Hannah responded even though she wondered if Norman had gone back to the dental clinic to work on Barbara’s bridge after his lunch with Doctor Bev. “I made a double batch of Mom’s Bran Muffins yesterday and it made six dozen. Would you like me to bring some out to you and Doc?”
“I don’t care for bran, dear, but Doc is always looking for good bran recipes for his senior patients. The only bran muffins I’ve ever liked were Great-Grandma Elsa’s.”
“That’s what these are.”
“But you said they were Mom’s Bran Muffins.”
“That’s what it says on the recipe, but Grandma Ingrid must have written it down. The recipe was on the back of a gas bill that’s addressed to Grandma and Grandpa Swensen.”
“Oh, my goodness! I hope they paid it!” Delores exclaimed.
“They paid it, Mother. It’s stamped Paid in Full.”
“That’s a relief. What time will you be here, dear?” Hannah glanced up at the apple-shaped clock on her kitchen wall and mentally calculated the time it would take her to feed Moishe, change clothes, and drive out to the hospital. “You can tell Doc Knight I’ll be there within the hour. And I’ll bring enough muffins for both of you.”
Once she’d hung up the phone, Hannah gave a little sigh. She’d been home less than thirty minutes when the phone had rung. Of course she’d thought about not answering, but there was something about a ringing phone that was too compelling to deny. She’d picked up the receiver, said hello, and heard the request from her mother. It seemed that Barbara was extremely agitated today and she wanted to see Hannah.
“Hold on, Moishe. I’ll get your food in just a minute,” she told the cat, whose rubs against her ankles had turned into head butts that demanded attention. There was still a little kitty kibble in his bowl from his breakfast, but that wouldn’t satisfy him for long. Moishe knew from past experience that there would be better, more interesting food coming with dinner.
“Salmon or tuna?” Hannah asked him, taking two cans of gourmet cat food out of the cupboard.
“Rrrrroow!”
“Of course,” Hannah said with a smile. “I should have guessed. You had tuna last night so tonight you want salmon. How about a couple of salad shrimp thrown in for good measure?
“Rrrrrrrrow!”
The response was more prolonged this time and Hannah laughed. People claimed that cats didn’t understand human language, but she’d swear in a court of law that Moishe knew at least eight words. His tail flicked at the very end whenever she uttered the words shrimp, chicken, bacon, tuna, salmon, and the generic fish. There were also several non-food-related words that garnered a physical response. Cuddles was one. Norman’s cat was his favorite friend and his ears perked up every time he heard her name. The other, most evocative non-food word was Mother. When Moishe heard Hannah greet her mother on the phone, he bristled and puffed up like a Halloween cat. Hannah could understand that. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot, or perhaps she should say the wrong leg, from the very beginning. The first time Hannah’s mother had met Moishe, she’d tried to treat him like a cute, cuddly lap cat, and Moishe had taken offense at the baby talk and the attempt to pick him up. Such behavior was an assault to his dignity and Moishe had made that perfectly clear.
To Hannah’s relief, the relationship between her mother and her cat was non-violent now. Since those first few meetings with the shredded hose, Moishe and Delores had arrived at an uneasy truce. Whenever Delores arrived at Hannah’s condo, she was armed with treats. Moishe would sit next to her on the couch so that she could feed him his favorite fish-shaped, salmon-flavored treats, and he even permitted a pet or two, or a scratch behind the ears. Hannah wasn’t sure what would happen if her mother arrived without treats, but she wasn’t betting on feline civility without culinary bribery. Every time Delores called to say she was dropping by, Hannah had a treat jar on the chair by the door just in case her mother had forgotten.
Hannah opened the can of kitty gourmet salmon and spooned it into Moishe’s bowl, covering the picture of Garfield on the bottom. She took a bag of salad shrimp from her freezer and shook out five before she returned it to the shelf. A few seconds under running water and they had thawed enough to add to the bowl.
“Go ahead and eat, Moishe,” she said, as if there were any doubt he’d do just that. “I’m going to take a quick shower and change clothes. I have to drive out to the hospital to see Barbara.”
Moishe didn’t bother to look up. His face was buried in his food bowl. His tail flicked twice and Hannah figured that was response enough.
Less than twenty minutes later Hannah was in her cookie truck driving out to the hospital. As she zipped along, she considered Doctor Bev’s thinly veiled threat about Norman, and wondered whether Norman would be gullible enough to get involved with his two-time and two-timing fiancée for the third time.
“He knows what she did the last time,” Hannah said aloud as she took the turn that led around the lake to the hospital. “He wouldn’t fall for that again, would he?” Absolute silence greeted her query. Even though her window was all the way down, the cows grazing along the fence that ran past Frederick Miller’s farmland didn’t raise their heads to answer.
“Maybe he would,” Hannah said out loud, answering her own question. She hoped that wasn’t the case, but she wasn’t sure, not after the things Doctor Bev had said that afternoon. Hannah had just rounded the tight curve that was marked by the three white crosses that the Sheriff’s Department Protective League had put up to signify three speed-related fatalities when she noticed several broken branches hanging from the dogwood that lined the roadway. Someone had taken the curve too fast and mowed through the bushes that hid Miller’s Pond from view.
Hannah pulled over to the side of the road. The branches were still hanging from the dogwood and Frederick Miller was known for keeping up his property. If the accident had happened a week, or even several days ago, Frederick would have removed the broken branches. She hadn’t heard about any accident at The Cookie Jar and it would have been a topic of conversation. That meant the accident was recent and she could be the first person on the scene!
Hannah turned off the ignition and hurried out of her truck. She pushed aside the branch, stepped past the dogwood, and gazed down at the pond below. What she saw made her gasp in horror. There was a car in the bottom of Miller’s Pond!
Miller’s Pond was stream-fed and the water was much clearer than a pond without an underwater source. It was deep, at least fifteen feet, and some people might have classified it as a small lake. Even though the car was over ten feet under the water, Hannah was a strong swimmer and she knew she could dive down to it if she had to.
She made a snap decision and scrambled down the steep embankment, slipping and sliding, but luckily, not falling. If someone was still inside the car, she had to try to save them!
As she grew closer, she could see that the car was a convertible, a red convertible. And there, deep in the clear water, she saw a shape behind the wheel.
Hannah didn’t hesitate. She slid down the remainder of the embankment as fast as she could, and when she got to the edge of the pond, she kicked off her shoes. A second later, she was wading into the water.
Miller’s Pond was a favorite swimming hole for the kids from surrounding farms because it was as shallow as a bathtub for at least twenty-five feet before it deepened. This made it ideal for smaller children as a wading pool, but swimmers had to wade out quite far before the water was deep enough to swim. Hannah waded as fast as she could, splashing out with frantic determination. Finally she reached swimming depth and she swam to the center of the pond as fast as she could.
If someone had been clocking her for the Olympics, Hannah might have made the swim team. When she arrived at a point near the submerged car, she dove down into the water, and saw the car clearly for the first time.
The driver was still behind the wheel, her long blond hair waving in the current from the stream that fed Miller’s Pond.
Uh-oh! Hannah’s mind shouted out a warning as she shot up to the surface for air. Are you really sure you want to try to rescue her? Hannah ignored the inference and dove down again. Yes, it was a red convertible. And yes, there was someone with blond hair behind the wheel. Her imagination had not been playing tricks on her. As she swam around to the side of the car she could see that it was a Maserati convertible and the driver was Doctor Bev!
Hannah worked as fast as she could, locating the seat belt and releasing the latch, but Doctor Bev remained in the white leather driver’s seat. Since Hannah couldn’t tell if she was dead or alive, she didn’t waste time feeling for a pulse. She just shot up to the surface for another big gulp of air and dove back down again.
There was only one thing to do and Hannah did it. She put her arms around Doctor Bev and attempted to pull her from the seat. Even though the water lent buoyancy to her efforts, that was not enough. As Hannah got under Doctor Bev and used her weight to lever her up, she realized what the term dead weight meant. She just hoped that it wasn’t accurate, as she muscled her rival for Norman’s affections out of the seat and pulled her up to the surface.
With one arm clasped around Doctor Bev’s chest, Hannah managed to swim with her. She knew if she dropped Doctor Bev, her rival would sink like a stone. Once she got to the shallow part of the pond, she managed to grasp Doctor Bev under both arms and drag her all the way to the shore.
Even though the prospect was almost too much to bear, Hannah immediately began resuscitation. She didn’t stop to think. She just followed the procedure she’d learned during the last class she’d taken at the sheriff’s station.
Hannah checked her waterproof watch after what seemed like an eternity. Five minutes had passed with no response. Doctor Bev was not showing any signs of breathing on her own. She started the procedure again, but after ten minutes there was no sign of life. Hannah kept at it rhythmically, fruitlessly, until a full twenty minutes had passed. Then she climbed back up the steep embankment to her truck to retrieve her cell phone.
Luckily, her phone was fully charged and she dialed Mike’s cell phone. “Mike!” she gasped when he answered his phone. “Come out to Miller’s Pond right away. And call for the paramedics. Doctor Bev was in a terrible accident and I think she’s dead!”