Other than hearing about the car crash that had ended Roseanne Forlano’s life on the local TV station, I received no further updates about the investigation. Dylan came over for a light dinner of omelets and salad. Then we settled down in the living room and watched a rom-com against the sound of fireworks being shot off in the distance. Tomorrow was Independence Day and my aunt and uncle’s barbecue.
I called Aunt Harriet to ask if she’d like me to bring over something in addition to the brownies. At first she said no, but then realized she could use a few bottles of seltzer.
“On second thought, don’t bother, Carrie. I’ll send Bosco out in the morning.”
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “I have several bottles here. How many shall I bring?”
“Two will do nicely, thank you. See you both tomorrow at two.”
I smiled as I disconnected. Great-Uncle Bosco and Great-Aunt Harriet were two of my favorite people and I was looking forward to spending time with them.
Thursday turned out to be a perfect day for a barbecue—sunny, in the low eighties, with a balmy breeze that would keep us comfortable. I was happy to see my cousins Julia and Randy and their delightful children. I got to meet a second cousin, Judy Reiner—a tall, statuesque woman in her early forties—her husband Carl, and their twelve-year-old son Todd as well as Willis Singleton, a potbellied, white-haired first cousin of Uncle Bosco’s. Willie, as everyone called him, regaled us with old Singleton stories while our hosts plied us with chicken and steak kebabs and various side dishes.
Some time later I was wondering if I had room for another sliver of Aunt Harriet’s strawberry-blueberry pie, when Judy cast a glance at Randy and Carl playing tag with the children on the lawn and then said to me, “Harriet told me you were at the wedding where Dr. Harrington died. Poisoned, they say.”
I nodded, not liking where this was going. I hadn’t thought about the murders all afternoon, and hated to have the subject brought up.
“It happened at my best friend’s wedding. Aiden was a family member. We were all terribly upset.”
Judy sighed. “He was a wonderful doctor. I was horrified to hear he’d been poisoned.”
My curiosity was piqued. “Had he ever treated you?”
“Twice. I needed a biopsy a few years ago and more recently I had my gallbladder removed. Dr. Harrington was always kind and explained everything well. He was a skillful surgeon.”
“Were you ever treated by Dr. Gannon?” I asked.
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious,” I said. “I met him and a few other people from the practice at the wake and the memorial service.”
“A friend recommended Dr. Gannon. I saw him once. I found him rather abrupt and was glad that my next appointment was with Dr. Harrington. I asked him to perform my surgery, and he said no problem.”
“Vera, the office manager, seemed very sociable,” I said.
“She sure is!” Judy agreed eagerly. “She’s warm and friendly and is great at keeping patients calm.”
“I imagine that’s a good asset for a surgery practice,” Julia said.
“Oh, it is,” Judy said. “By my second appointment, I knew I needed surgery and was a bundle of nerves sitting there in the waiting room. Vera noticed and came over to chat with me. She reassured me that Dr. Harrington was an excellent surgeon and everything would turn out all right. And it did.”
“What about Nurse Gwen?” I asked. “She was really broken up over Aiden’s death.”
“I never met her,” Judy answered. “There was a nurse named Debbie and two nurse practitioners, I believe. Gwen must have started working there after my surgery.”
Minutes later I helped Aunt Harriet clear the table. Shortly after that, we all began to leave and there was a flurry of goodbyes. Julia and I made tentative plans to get together for a double date one Saturday evening. Aunt Harriet handed me a platter of leftovers for Dylan and me to enjoy the following evening.
Dylan and I had started walking to the car when a small hand tugged at my skirt. I bent down to talk to Tacey.
“Have you seen Miss Evelyn lately?” she asked in a whisper.
“I sure have. She’s fine.”
“Tell her now I can write my street address,” Tacey said proudly.
“I certainly will,” I promised.
Riding home, I told Dylan what Judy had said about Nick Gannon and Vera.
Dylan laughed. “So, Dr. Nick doesn’t have a great bedside manner, and Vera is every patient’s favorite. Personality won’t reveal if either or both is involved in fraud or a two-time murderer. Samuel Franklin Devine, the shrewdest art thief I ever knew, came across as the nicest, friendliest guy you’d ever want to meet.”
“Oh.”
“Just sayin’.”