snoopy reporters, especially her, I guess.”
“Yes.” Dr. Garnett seemed to be trying not to look
pleased at the cousins’ revelations. “I believe that Mr.
Kirby has been covering city government for many
years. He has been quite critical of Blanche Van Boeck
in some of his articles.”
“Maybe,” Renie said, “that’s where I got a poor impression of her.”
“Perhaps,” Dr. Garnett said in a noncommittal tone.
“Is she dangerous?” Judith asked, feeling rather
foolish for asking such a melodramatic question.
But Dr. Garnett seemed to take Judith seriously.
“Let’s put it this way—Blanche Van Boeck is a very
determined, ambitious woman. She has little patience
with anyone who stands in her way.”
The doctor’s assessment didn’t bring any comfort to
the cousins.
Renie was on the phone with her mother. Somehow
Aunt Deb, perhaps threatened by her grandchildren to
have the telephone surgically removed from her ear,
hadn’t yet called her only daughter.
“Yes, Mom,” Renie was saying after the first ten
minutes, “I promise not to let the doctors take advantage of me when I’m in this helpless condition . . . No,
I don’t have the window open . . . Yes, I realize it’s
snowing . . . Of course it’s warm in here . . . No, I’m
not going to wear three pairs of bed socks. One’s
enough . . . Really? I’d no idea Mrs. Parker’s brotherin-law got frostbite . . . After he was admitted to Norway General? That is unusual . . .”
Judith tried to turn a deaf ear, but the conversation
painfully reminded her of not having talked to
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103
Gertrude since she was admitted. Not that her
mother would mind; she hated the telephone as
much as her sister-in-law adored it. Still, Judith felt
guilty for not having called. In her heart of hearts,
she missed the old girl, and assumed that the feeling
was mutual.
She was about to dial the number in the toolshed
when the phone rang under her hand. To her surprise,
the caller was Effie McMonigle.
“I don’t much like paying these daytime long distance rates,” Judith’s mother-in-law declared in a
cranky voice, “but I have to go out tonight to the Elks
Club with Myron.”
Myron was Effie’s long-time companion, a weatherbeaten old wrangler with a wooden leg. His tall tales of
life in the saddle smacked of romance to Effie, but Judith had always wondered if the closest he’d ever gotten to a horse was taking his grandkids for a ride on the
merry-go-round at the county fair.
“It’s very sweet of you to call,” Judith said. “How’s
Myron doing?”
“As best he can,” Effie replied. “Which isn’t all that
good. Say, I got to thinking, how come you never had
an autopsy performed on Dan? He was pretty darned
young to pop off like that. I’ve always wondered.”
“You have?” Judith made a face at Renie, but her
cousin was absorbed in trying to explain to Aunt Deb
why it wouldn’t be a good idea for her to visit at the
hospital. “Well, you know,” Judith said in a strained
voice, “Dan was quite a bit overweight and he hadn’t
been well for a long time.”
“He looked fine to me the last I saw of him about six
months before he died,” Effie asserted. “ ’Course he
couldn’t work, he was too delicate.”
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Mary Daheim
Delicate. Judith held her head. “Actually, Dan
was—”
“So how come?” Effie barked.
“How come what?” Judith responded with a little
jump.
“No autopsy.” There was an ominous pause. “I used
to be a nurse, remember? Autopsies are routine in such
cases.”
The truth was that Judith had been asked if she
would like to have an autopsy performed on Dan. She
had refused. What was the point? Dan was over four
hundred pounds and lived on a diet of Ding-Dongs and
grape juice laced with vodka, so it hadn’t surprised her
in the least when he had expired.
“I wanted to spare him that,” Judith said, though her
thoughts were more complicated: I wanted to spare me
that. I just wanted it all to be over. Nineteen years is a
long time to be miserable.
“Hunh,” Effie snorted. “It’s been on my mind.”
“It shouldn’t be,” Judith said, trying not to sound annoyed. “It’s been a long time. What good would it have
done?”
“I was thinking about Mac and the one on the way,”
Effie said, suddenly subdued. “What if Dan had some
hereditary disease? Shouldn’t Mike and Krissy know
about it?”
“Kristin,” Judith corrected. Effie had a point, except
in Dan’s case, it didn’t apply to Mike or little Mac.
“It’s too late now.”
“Too bad,” Effie said. “These pediatricians today
can nip things in the bud.”
“I don’t think Dan had anything he could pass on,” Judith said, sounding weary. “Really, it’s pointless to fret
over something that happened more than ten years ago.”
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105
“Easy for you to say,” Effie shot back. “All I have to
do is sit here and think.”
“I thought you were going to the Elks Club with
Myron,” Judith said as Renie finally plunked the phone
down in its cradle and rubbed her ear.
“Once a month, big thrill,” Effie said with a sharp
laugh. “I’m not like you, out running around all over
the place and doing as I please.”
“Effie, I’m in the hospital.”
“What?” There was a pause. “Oh—so you are. Well,
you know what I mean. Think about what I said, in
case Dan had something hereditary. It’ll help kill time.
Thinking helps me keep occupied. I’d better hang up.
This phone bill is going to put me in the poorhouse.”
“Lord help me.” Judith sighed, gazing at Renie, who
was lying back on the pillows looking exhausted.
“You, too?”
“At least I love my mother,” Renie said in a wan
voice, “but having seen you break out into a cold sweat
indicated you were talking to Effie McMonigle.”
“That’s right,” Judith said. “She wonders why I
didn’t have an autopsy done on Dan.”
“Before he died? It might have been a smart idea.
Maybe you could have figured out what made him
tick.”
“Sheesh.” Judith rubbed her neck, trying to undo the
kinks that had accumulated. “To think I was putting off
calling Mother.”
The door, which had been left ajar, was slowly
pushed open. Jim Randall, dusted with snow and carrying a slightly incongruous spring bouquet, stepped
into the room and stopped abruptly.
“Oh! Sorry.” He pushed his thick glasses up higher
on his nose. “Wrong room.” He left.
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Mary Daheim
“What was that all about?” Renie asked.
“I don’t know,” Judith replied, sitting up a bit.
But Jim reappeared a moment later, looking flustered. “There’s someone in there,” he said, gesturing at
the room that had been occupied by his late brother.
“How can that be?”
“It’s Mr. Kirby,” Judith said. “The hospital is very
crowded. I guess they had to use your . . . the empty
room.”
“Oh.” Jim looked in every direction, cradling the