P Is for Peril

She was saying, "That looks much better. Dr. P. would never allow me to tend to his plants when he was here." She was slightly disconcerted to see me, but she continued on to the waste-basket, where she deposited her prunings.
    Her hair was bushy on top and cut quite short around the ears. She wore an oversized brown blazer, a shirt, a tie, and a pair of mannish pants. She had a gold silk cravat bunched in the breast pocket of her jacket. The toes of her brown oxfords peered from beneath her shapeless trouser legs, she could have used another two inches in the length.
    "Mrs. Stegler? My name's Kinsey Millhone. I'm hoping you can give me some information about Dr. Purcell."
    She plucked a tissue from the box on Merry's desk and wiped her hands carefully before she finally offered to shake hands. "Merry said you stopped by on Saturday. I'm not certain I can be of help. I make it a policy not to discuss my employer without his express permission."
    "I understand that," I said. "I'm not asking you to violate a confidence. You know Fiona Purcell?"
    "Of course. Dr. Purcell's first wife."
    "She hired me in hopes I could get a line on him. I'm actually here at her suggestion. She felt a conversation with you was the logical place to begin."
    Mrs. Stegler shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I was gone by the time the doctor left the building that night," she said, almost stubbornly. I could tell she was happy she had nothing to contribute on the subject.
    "Did you talk to him that day?"
    Mrs. Stegler gave me a significant look and signaled with her eyes that Merry was listening to every word we said. "Perhaps you'd like to step into his office. We can talk in there."
    She held open the hinged section of the counter and I passed inside. Her eyes were as small and as round as a parakeet's, a pale watery blue with a ring of black around the iris. As we entered the inner office, she turned to Merry. "Please see that we're not disturbed."
    Merry said, "Yes ma'am," rolling her eyes at no one in particular.
    For my part, I was intrigued by the opportunity to see Dr. Purcell's office, which was small and neat. Desk, swivel chair, two upholstered guest chairs, and a bookcase filled with medical textbooks and assorted health care manuals. On the edge of his desk sat the newly shorn ivy, looking like a cocker spaniel with a summer clip. I'd have given a lot for the chance to go through his desk drawers, but the chances of that looked dim.
    It was clear Mrs. Stegler thought it inappropriate to sit at his desk. She perched on one of his guest chairs and I took the other, which put us nearly knee to knee. She scooted her chair back and crossed her legs, exposing a band of narrow, white hairless shin above the rim of her wool sock.
    I said, "I hope this doesn't seem out of line, but I have to tell you I can't stand gossip. Even in my line of work, I never encourage anyone to talk out of turn or breach a trust, especially in a matter like this." She looked at me with a hint of suspicion, perhaps sensing the bullshit, perhaps not. "We're in accord on that."
    "I'd appreciate your telling me about his last day at work."
    "I explained all that to the police. More than once, I might add."
    "I'm hoping you'll explain it again to me. Detective Odessa told me you were very helpful."
    She peered uneasily at my shoulder bag resting on the floor by my chair. "You're not recording this."
    I leaned over, grabbed the bag, and held it open so she could inspect the contents. The only thing that looked even vaguely like a recorder was my government-issue, secret, plastic tampon container with its high-powered directional mike.
    "And you won't quote me out of context?"
    "I won't quote you at all."
    She was silent, staring down at her lap. Finally, she said, "I've been divorced for years."
    She was silent again and I allowed the subject to sit there between us without comment on my part or elucidation on hers. I could see that she was struggling to speak. Her face twisted suddenly, her lips pulling together as though controlled by invisible strings. She spoke, but her voice was so tight and so raspy I could hardly understand what she said. "Dr. Purcell… was the closest… thing to a… friend I had. I can't believe he's gone. I came into work the following Monday morning and by then everyone was whispering that he was… missing. I was shocked. He was… such a sweet man… I so adored him… If I'd known that was the last time I was going to see him, I would