forty-seven

“Detective Nappa?” Mr. Warren walked into the conference room with paperwork. “I have the information on the nurses who worked at the camp this past summer.”

“Thank you. Also, I have a few questions for you before I go.”

“Whatever I can do to help.”

“I’m investigating the McAllister murder and I’m sure you know she was a volunteer at the camp. Have any of your staff commented on her death?”

“We all were stunned when we found out.” He put his hand to chest. “I don’t want to seem indelicate, Detective, but we in the medical field deal with death, sometimes on a day-to-day basis. One of our nurses specializes in oncology services, so it’s a part of the job, so to speak.” He shrugged. “I will say this, Shannon was a sweet person. What an awful, awful thing to happen.”

Nappa raised a suspicious eyebrow. “You knew her?”

Mr. Warren nervously laughed, “Well, no, not really. I went to the camp over a holiday weekend to help out. I didn’t know her, so to speak.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“At a blood drive we held. She was handing out juice and cookies to the donors. I think two of the nurses on that list were there as well.”

Nappa took a page from Megan’s Make-Friends-and-Influence-­People booklet and left in a hurry. “I’ll be in touch.”