Chapter 17
SARA LEE
The four of them sat in the living room, the tension so thick Sara Lee could barely breathe.
She busied herself bringing in the tray with teacups, her hands trembling slightly as she set it on the table.
Nana June followed with a platter of oatmeal raisin cookies she'd baked the day before, along with small triangle sandwiches.
Ted looked at the treats and shook his head. "Not sure it's a cookie kind of day, Junie."
Nana June looked at him soberly as she settled into her chair. "There's never a time when it's not a cookie kind of day."
Ted’s lips quirked slightly before he sobered once again.
Sara Lee poured tea for everyone, but her gaze was pinned on Carl. He sat on the edge of the sofa, his shoulders hunched, his hands clasped between his knees. The exhaustion in his face made her chest ache.
"What's going on?" Sara Lee asked, her voice little more than a whisper. Clearing her throat, she spoke again, “Carl, what’s happened?”
"Looks like I'm a suspect in Raymond’s death," Carl said quietly.
A gasp left her lips, and all she could utter was, "No... no..."
"Why don't you tell us all about it?" Nana June suggested gently, handing Carl a cup of tea that he took but didn't seem to notice. He finally looked down and took a sip before setting it on the coffee table.
Carl nodded, his jaw tight. He stared at his hands for a moment before speaking.
"I got to the clinic early this morning.
We had a euthanasia scheduled first thing, and I like to get everything ready beforehand so the client isn't waiting around when they're already upset.
" He paused, swallowing hard. "When I got to the medication cabinet, I suddenly remembered that I had no recollection if the previously filled syringe of pentobarbital had been properly disposed of. "
"Pento… what?" Sara Lee stuttered.
"Pentobarbital," Carl repeated. "It's what we use for euthanasia.
It's a barbiturate…. very controlled, very regulated.
I keep a strict inventory because it's a DEA-scheduled drug.
" His voice was flat, clinical, like he was giving a lecture instead of explaining why he was a murder suspect.
"I had a euthanasia several days ago, and the situation became chaotic, and I didn’t dispose of the syringe properly. "
"But…" Sara Lee began, her eyes wide. She had no idea how a vet's office worked, but she was certain Carl followed every law, every guideline, and took every precaution.
"The medication cabinet’s door itself has a lock, and it's kept locked in my pharmacy room.
Only I have keys to both." Carl rubbed his hand over his face, looking haggard.
"I searched everywhere, thinking maybe I'd dropped it, maybe I'd just forgotten to dispose of it.
Then I checked our records, our logbooks.
When my office manager and vet techs came in, I asked them if anyone had remembered disposing of the syringe.
I even spoke to the tech who had been in the room with me for a second time.
No one remembered anything amiss. No one had touched it.
I called the evening cleaning crew, but again, no one remembered seeing it. "
“But, it would have been empty,” Nana June pressed.
Carl swiped his hand over his face and sighed.
"No. The dog died before I had a chance to euthanize it. The syringe was still full, but where it went, I have no idea. I had to report it.” He took a shaky breath.
“By law, I'm required to report any loss or theft of controlled substances to the DEA and local law enforcement within one business day of discovery. "
Sara Lee’s heart dropped seeing the anguish on his face.
"So you called Sheriff Gordon," Nana June said.
"I did. He came right over." Carl's hands clenched together.
"We went through the cabinet, the logs, the security system, everything.
And then..." His voice dropped. "Then he told me that some of the preliminary lab results came back on Raymond.
Pentobarbital was found in his system. Gordon said he was planning to come talk to me anyway, and that I'd just saved him a trip. "
"Oh, my," Nana June murmured.
"But that doesn't make you a suspect!" Sara Lee cried out, her voice breaking slightly. "Just because someone stole your medication doesn't mean you killed him!"
"It puts the spotlight directly on my staff and me," Carl said grimly. "My medication. Drawn into the syringe by me. And I can't explain how anyone got access to it."
"What are you going to do?" Nana June asked. “After all… the number of people who would have had access to your clinic is very low.”
Sara Lee was surprised by how composed her grandmother sounded when her own heart was pounding so hard she could barely think straight.
She knew Carl and had no doubt that he had anything to do with Raymond’s death, just like she was convinced of Barb’s innocence in any of her family’s financial situation.
"I'm still trying to figure out what happened." Carl finally took another sip of his tea, grimacing like it was bitter. "How the syringe became lost… how it wasn’t found even with our searching. Who can I trust in my staff, which, before this, had been everyone."
"Do you have security cameras?" Nana June asked, her voice calm and measured.
"Yes, but not nearly as good as I should have. One at the front door, one at the back entrance, and one focused more on the reception desk since that’s where money is collected.
Also, the laboratory and surgery area. But there’s no camera in each examination room.
" Carl nodded. "Gordon took all the footage.
He's having his deputy, Tom, review everything to see if there is anything helpful, even though we know there isn’t. "
Sara Lee’s head twisted back and forth as she watched the conversation ping-pong between her grandmother and Carl, finding her mind racing to absorb all the information and implications.
"Gordon thinks it was either someone on my staff or the cleaners.
.." He shook his head. "I can't believe anyone on my staff would do this.
My receptionist has been with me for two years.
She's engaged, planning her wedding, and saving for a house.
My vet techs are both young women who love animals more than anything.
None of them had any connection to Raymond that I know of. "
All this time, Ted had been quiet, sitting in the armchair by the window with his tea untouched. When Nana June turned his way, raising an eyebrow in silent question, he hefted his shoulders and spoke through tight lips.
"If he needs an attorney, I'll either represent him myself or get him the best criminal defense lawyer in Virginia." Ted's voice was gruff with emotion. "Carl's not going down for this."
"It can't come to that," Sara Lee said desperately. "It can't."
She watched as her grandmother leaned forward slightly, her expression thoughtful. "Carl, walk me through your procedure for that kind of drug. When would you use it?"
Carl set down his teacup and straightened slightly, seeming grateful for the concrete questions.
"Pentobarbital is a Schedule II controlled substance.
Every time I use it, I have to log the date, the animal's name, the owner's name, how much I used, and how much is left in the vial in the cabinet.
The DEA can audit me at any time, and the records have to be perfect. "
"When do you use it?" Nana June asked.
"Only for euthanasia. It's not used for anything else in veterinary medicine.
" Carl's voice softened. "It's very peaceful.
We sedate the animal first so they're not feeling any pain.
Then we administer the pentobarbital intravenously.
It stops the heart within seconds. The animal just.. . goes to sleep and passes peacefully."
Sara Lee felt tears prick her eyes at the gentleness in his voice. This was why he'd become a veterinarian… to help animals, even in their final moments. And his compassion with their owners shone through as well.
"How much would it take to kill a person?" Nana June asked quietly.
"Less than you'd think. The therapeutic dose for a large dog might be three to five milliliters. A fatal dose for a human would be similar, maybe a bit more, depending on body weight and tolerance." Carl's expression darkened. "If Raymond was given a full syringe, that would be enough to kill him."
"What would be the effect if mixed with alcohol?" Nana June continued, her eyes sharp.
"That would actually make it more dangerous.
Alcohol is a depressant, as pentobarbital is a barbiturate depressant, so they would potentiate each other.
The combination would be deadly." Carl rubbed his temples.
"Gordon asked me the same thing. If someone put pentobarbital in Raymond's flask with his bourbon, he probably wouldn't have tasted it. Especially if he was already drunk."
Nana June sat back, her fingers steepled under her chin. "So we're looking for someone who understands this medication, had access to your clinic during business hours, and had reason to want Raymond dead."
"That's a pretty specific combination," Ted said. “No one would know the syringe would be there at that time.”
Sara Lee thought of the staff Carl had, having seen them numerous times when taking Pippi or Mister Smee to the clinic. She liked his employees but couldn’t help wondering if one of them had seen an opportunity and snagged the drug.
"Carl, think carefully. In the past few weeks, has anyone asked unusual questions about your medications or procedures?"
Carl was quiet for a long moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. "There are always clients who ask questions. People want to know what medications we're using on their pets and what the side effects are. That's normal."
"Anyone who came in around the time the medication went missing?" Sara Lee asked. "Maybe someone new?"
"Nothing comes to mind..." Carl closed his eyes. "Last week was busy. We had a lot of regular clients and a few new ones."
They sat in heavy silence for a moment. Pippi, who'd been sleeping in the corner, whined softly and padded over to Sara Lee, pressing her head against Sara Lee's knee. The dog always seemed to sense when Sara Lee was upset.
Ted checked his watch and stood. "Carl and I should get back to the clinic. I want to review those security feeds myself before Gordon comes back with more questions."
Carl nodded, but he looked reluctant to leave. He moved toward the door slowly, then turned back to Sara Lee. "I'm sorry. I know this is... I know it's a lot. If you want to… if you need to distance yourself from this situation, I'd understand."
Sara Lee stood and crossed to him, her decision made.
She wrapped her arms around him, and they stood there for a moment, his chin resting on top of her head, his arms tight around her shoulders.
He smelled of antiseptic, dog shampoo, and something uniquely him.
Sara Lee felt her resolve strengthen. She wasn't going anywhere.
"We'll figure this out," she murmured against his chest. "I promise."
When she finally let him go and stepped back, his eyes were suspiciously bright. "Thank you," he said roughly. "For believing me."
She followed him and Ted out onto the porch, Nana June joining her. They watched the two men walk down to Carl's SUV, Ted's hand on his grandson's shoulder in silent support.
After they drove away, Sara Lee turned to her grandmother. "What can we do?"
"I think now is our time for a fresh pot of tea," June said, her expression determined. "I think we need to review and research."
"But what are we looking for specifically?" Sara Lee’s frustration spilled out.
June looked at her granddaughter, her gaze warm. She wrapped her arm around Sara Lee’s shoulders as they moved to the door. “I have no idea, sweetheart. But at some point, all our findings will surely start coming together.” She sighed and added, “But, right now, I have no idea.”
They went back inside, where Mister Smee still sat on the back of the sofa, his enormous eyes watching them with that inscrutable feline wisdom. The cat blinked slowly, then stood and stretched before jumping down and padding down the hall.
"Come on," June said, following the cat. "Let's go see what we might need to look at."
Sara Lee trailed behind, her mind racing. Carl was a suspect. Someone had stolen his medication and used it to murder Raymond. And she was fresh out of ideas, but followed her grandmother, feeling anchored when she was near.