Satan's Pony Read Free Page B

replacing her file in the drawer.
    With a sigh, she lumbered out.
    The next two patients were men—farmers who only spoke when spoken to. What a relief. I was through with them in a jiffy. As I was cleaning up, I heard the outer door open. Damn. I thought I was finished for the day.
    â€œGotta a cure for lovesickness?” Tom Canby poked his handsome head around the door.
    I laughed. “Hi, stranger.” I hadn’t heard from him for three days. Very unusual.

    â€œIt’s archery season. I got me a deer.”
    I had once been put off by his hunting habit, but that was before I knew how destructive deer could be.
    He grabbed me by both shoulders and gave me a long, deep kiss.
    â€œHey!” I broke free. “I’m still working.”
    He glanced around the empty office.
    I looked at my watch. “Office hours are from two to four. It’s only three forty-five. Somebody might drop in.”
    He slid into the chair opposite me—the one reserved for patients or drug salesmen (although very few of the latter found their way to Bayfield). “Well, Doc, it’s this way,” he began, giving a good imitation of a local redneck. “I cain’t sleep, I cain’t eat, and my heart goes pitter-patter so fast—”
    â€œThat’s called palpitations.”
    â€œWhatever.” He frowned. “Why aren’t you takin’ notes, Doctor?”
    â€œIdiot.”
    Undeterred, he went on, “But the worst thing is my feet.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œEvery time I think of you my feet itch.” He pulled off his shoes and socks and wriggled his bare toes at me. (They were nice toes.) “Like right now, for instance.”
    â€œMaybe you have athlete’s foot.”
    He shook his head. “I’m no ath-a-lete. The only sport I know is archery, and my feet don’t get involved much in that.”
    â€œMaybe I have some foot powder here … .” I made a pretense of rummaging in my medicine cabinet.
    â€œTried that. Don’t work,” he said. “The only cure is a house call to my place—at, say, eight o’clock?”
    â€œHow’s that going to help your feet?”
    He grinned. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”
    â€œWell … if you’ve discovered some new antidote?”
    â€œOh, I can’t say it’s new. But it’s tried and true. Very effective.”
    â€œFDA-approved?”

    â€œOh, yeah. For years.”
    â€œHmm. Let me think about it.”
    â€œShall I give you a sample?”
    â€œUh …”
    He bounded around the desk and grabbed me.
    By the time he left, it was four-thirty. As I locked my office door, it occurred to me that bikers weren’t the only people in Bayfield who acted like junior high kids.

CHAPTER 4
    Before going to my room to change, I checked the lobby to see if Maggie had dropped by. Jack was on desk duty and said he hadn’t seen her. When I got to my room I called her at home. She answered, sounding exhausted.
    â€œHow did it go?” I asked.
    â€œNot good, I’m afraid.”
    â€œWhat happened?”
    â€œThe prosecutor only questioned me for about five minutes …”
    That could be a good or bad sign. Good if it kept Maggie from putting her foot in it again. Bad if the prosecutor thought she had done enough damage to the defendant and no further testimony was needed.
    â€œ … and my lawyer hardly spoke to me afterward. I think he was disgusted with me.”
    From what I’d seen of Mr. Maxwell, Esq., that was probably indifference, not disgust. “He may have had other things on his mind. Have you eaten?”
    â€œI grabbed a burger on the way home.”
    â€œWell, go to bed early.”
    â€œYes, Doctor.”
    A glimmer of humor? A good sign. “When will Paul be home?” I asked.

    â€œI just heard him drive up.”
    â€œTake care, Mag.”
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    I arrived at