P Is for Peril

have expressed… my heartfelt thanks… for all his many, many… kindnesses to me." She took another deep breath, humming with the kind of sorrow that didn't lend itself to words. After half a minute, she seemed to regain her composure, though her grip was clearly fragile. She removed the cravat from her breast pocket and blew her nose noisily. The silk didn't seem absorbent. She folded her hands together in her lap, the wadded cloth between her fingers where she twisted it. I could see a tear plop into her lap and then a second, like a slow drip from a shower handle that hasn't been properly turned off.
    I realized she was the first person, aside from Blanche, who'd shown any real emotional reaction to his vanishing. I leaned forward and clutched her cold hands. "I know this is hard. Take your time."
    She took a deep breath. "Forgive me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't burden you this way. I just hope he's safe. I don't care what he's done." She paused, pressing the cravat against her lips. She took another deep breath. "I'm fine now. I'm fine. I don't know what came over me. My apologies."
    "I understand. From everything I've heard, he was a wonderful man. My only purpose here is to help. You have to trust me on that. I'm not here to make trouble."
    "What do you want?"
    "Just tell me what you know."
    She hesitated, her no-gossip policy too deeply ingrained to give up all at once. She must have decided to trust me because she took a deep breath and opened up. "That last day, he seemed preoccupied. I think he was worried… I mean, why wouldn't he be? Mrs. Purcell… excuse me, the first one, Fiona… stopped by to see him, but he'd gone out to lunch. She waited for a while, thinking he might return, and then she left him a note. When he came back, he worked in his office for the rest of the day. I remember he had a glass of whiskey sitting at his desk. This was late in the day."
    "Did he go out for dinner?"
    "I don't believe so. He usually ate quite late or skipped supper altogether. Many evenings, he had a little something at his desk… crackers or fruit… this was if his wife was going out and wouldn't be cooking. When I tapped on his door to say good-night, he was just sitting there."
    "Did he have papers in front of him? Files or charts?"
    "He must have. I didn't pay attention. It wasn't in his nature to be idle. I do know that."
    "You had a conversation?"
    "The usual pleasantries. Nothing significant."
    "Any phone calls or visitors that you know of?" She shook her head. "Not that I remember. When I came in the following Monday, his office was empty, highly unusual for him. He was always here at seven o'clock, before anyone else. By then, the rumors were beginning to circulate. Someone… I forget who… said he'd never gone home at all on Friday night. At first we didn't attach much to it. Then, people got worried he'd been in an accident or taken ill. When the police came, we were frightened, but we still expected him to be found within a day or two. I've thought and thought about this, but there's absolutely nothing else."
    "Didn't I read in the paper he had a brief chat that night with an elderly woman sitting in the lobby?"
    "That would be Mrs. Curtsinger. Ruby. She's been a resident here since 1975. I'll have Merry take you over to her room. I don't want you upsetting her."
    "I promise I won't."

Chapter 11
    Merry walked me down the hall. I could see the meal carts being rolled out, the vertical shelves stacked with dinner trays for those who preferred eating in their rooms. It was not even five o'clock and I suspected the early supper hour was designed to condense all three of the day's meals to one long shift.
    Merry was saying, "'Member the nurse who was standing there when you left on Saturday? Her name's Pepper Gray. Anyway, she started asking all these questions about you. I never let on a thing, just said you'd be back to talk to Mrs. S. today. She read me out good, saying I shouldn't be talking to anyone about the clinic. I was so P.O.'d. She doesn't have any right to talk to me that way. She doesn't even work in my department."
    "What do you think she heard?"
    "Doesn't matter. It's none of her business. I just thought you should be aware of it in case we run into her."
    We took a left, passing the staff lounge, central supply, and then a series of residential rooms. Many doors were closed, the exteriors decorated with greeting cards or wreaths of dried flowers. Sometimes the names of the occupants were