Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

patient.”
    The waiter arrived to clear away our plates and take orders for dessert. John told me his mother wanted us to come for dinner on Sunday, but he refused. His mother Harriett was a short ball of energy, and always happy. His father Stan was a nice man, but a bit quiet. I felt they secretly hoped this was it for John. He came close to getting married to a woman in Boston with whom he had a long relationship, but it ended about two years ago. I never asked for details. Some things I didn’t have to know.
    “I’m sorry about his weekend, but I’m looking forward to seeing Mary-Beth, and Sam and Millie are coming too. I called Meme and she’s coming along as well.” Mary-Beth and I had been friends for years and though we didn’t see each other very often, sometimes only a couple times a year, we always had plenty to talk about. And Mary-Beth always had some good gossip about a former classmate.
    We finished off our dessert while John tried to stifle a yawn. A half hour later we were back at my house. When I came out of the bathroom John was sound asleep across the bed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

    In case I haven’t mentioned it, I love Connecticut, especially autumn in Connecticut. So it gave me great delight that Saturday began with one of those mornings one would normally see on a postcard. The few clouds that lingered in the deep, ocean-blue sky were of the white and fluffy variety; the air crisp like a Pippin apple straight off a tree. Oaks, birches, and maples swayed gently, dropping leaves of rich russets and golds to an earth already covered in a quilt of autumn colors. It felt good to get out of Indian Cove for the day.
    The five of us drove along the turnpike in Sam’s minivan, which we packed with enough food and drink to last for a seven-day, cross-country trip.
    “Where are we headed?” Millie asked from the back seat where she sat next to Meme.
    Sam, who took the Merritt Parkway to the Eight and now traveled north to the One-Eighteen said, “Litchfield. That direction anyway. We’ll just see what we find.”
    “I don’t care where we’re going. It’s just nice to be out with young people for a change,” Meme said.
    A short while later we arrived at one of my favorite places, Litchfield, the perfect example of a New England village centered around a church and town common. All of Litchfield County, in fact, was heavenly. Bordered on one side by Dutchess County in New York, and on another side by Berkshire County, Massachusetts, it was hard to imagine this beautiful land had been settled by Calvinists who would surely be appalled by the pleasures found in this part of the country. The area had become a playground for the rich, and the land prices grew to nothing short of scandalous. The Puritan forefathers would most certainly be ashamed, but we five driving along in the minivan gave no thought whatsoever to the founding fathers.
    Country inns dotted the entire county, and judging by the amount of people, I knew better than to think John and I would have been able to find a room at the height of the fall colors.
    Leaf peepers, as the locals called the tourists who came from all over to get a glimpse of the foliage, packed the streets. We played tourists for a bit, taking in the glorious day and the fresh air while popping into an occasional shop.
    Back in the van, Sam did the driving while I held on for dear life.
    “Hey, Millie,” Sam called from the front, “it must be time for some of those snacks you brought, don’t you think?” Sam smiled sweetly into the rearview mirror.
    Millie pulled out the container filled with the goodies her grandmother made. “What do you want? A cheese ball, a little quiche, or some vegetables?”
    “I’ll take a few of each.”
    “Sam, if you want to eat, then let me drive,” I volunteered more out of a sense of wanting to live my life for a few more years than out of being helpful to my sister.
    “Thanks, but it’s no problem. I can eat and drive at the same time.”
    I rolled my eyes at Meme. “Are you alright, Meme?”
    Meme, who sat between Millie and Mary-Beth, gave me a wave of the hand. “Oh, this is nothing, honey. I usually drive with Theresa and she’s got a lead foot and a bad eye. Not a good combination for driving a car. And sometimes Fred likes to take the wheel and he’s over ninety. Sam is doing fine.”
    Millie handed a napkin with little munchies to a smirking Sam and I thought I might as well eat something too. It might