The Groaning Board

time, but I don’t want to ever hear you got
softhearted again.”
    “You’re so good to me.”
    “You must be feeling better, because
you’re starting to make jokes. Well, I’m going back to work. Just one more
thing, sugar?”
    “Yes?”
    “Be gracious and let Bill take care
of you.”
    “I’m always gracious. Did he tell you
I was poisoned?“
    “Poisoned? Is that what they’re
calling stomach flu these days? Really, sweetie, you’re so dramatic. We’ll talk
about it when you’re feeling better.” Smith hung up before Wetzon could sputter
a word.
    Damn Smith, Wetzon thought. She never
took Wetzon seriously, and at this moment, Wetzon needed someone to take her
very seriously. She poured herself a glass of water and drank it down.
Physically, she was feeling better. She debated whether to call Silvestri, then
decided to call Laura Lee first.
    “Poor baby,” Laura Lee said. “It was
the upset, hearin’ Bill make summer plans that didn’t include you.”
    “That upset me, but his plans did
include me. He was going to have me come up and hang out at an inn. Be on call,
so to speak.”
    “I take back all the nice things I
said about him. Men are such shmucks.”
    Wetzon laughed, holding her ribs.
“What would your parents say to hear you corrupted like this?”
    “They’d say it was cornin’ from
hangin’ around with Jews and that New York had ruined me.”
    “I think what made me sick—”
    “After all my warnin’s you ate one of
Min’s concoctions?“
    “No, it was the rice pudding.”
    “The rice puddin’? I gave that to you
myself.”
    “Who told you to give it to me?”
    “Min did. She said Bill had asked
A.T. to make it specially for you.”
    “He says he didn’t. I only had a
taste of it. What happened to the rest of it?”
    “I took it away from you and set it
down somewhere. I don’t remember. I probably tossed it.”
    A few minutes later Wetzon was
explaining where she was and why to Silvestri. She left nothing out.
    “Who made the pudding?” he asked.
    “A.T. and Ellen made the desserts.”
    “Veeder ordered it for you?”
    “Bill says he didn’t. And I believe
him.”
    “I’d rather you weren’t at his place,
Les.”
    “He saved my life, Silvestri. I have
no doubt of that. I’ll be here another day or so, then I’ll go home. How is
Todd Cameron?”
    “Holding on by a hair.”
    “Did you find a suicide note?”
    “No. Don’t think we will, although
we’re still looking.“
    “You don’t think he’s a suicide?”
    “The doorman says a man brought Todd
home reeling drunk and semiconscious early yesterday morning. A man in a blue
pinstriped suit.”

Chapter Sixty-Three

     
     
     
    She went
back and forth in her mind about how to ask Bill where he was yesterday morning. It couldn’t
have been Bill. Yet she could only remember he said he had meetings all day and
then was going to see Evelyn.
    It behooved Silvestri to instill
doubt in her mind about Bill Veeder. God, it was Gaslight doubled. Silvestri
was trying to make her doubt her own judgment. But then perhaps she was so
infatuated with Bill Veeder, her judgment was impaired. No, it was Silvestri
manipulating her, and she wasn’t going to let him do it.
     
    She awoke to the smell of buttered
toast. It lured her out of bed. She wrapped herself in Bill’s terry robe and
made her unsteady way to the kitchen. “Hungry,” she said. The clock on the oven
read 1:00.
    “You’re better,” he said, scanning
her face. He sat her in a chair and set two slices of toast on a plate in front
of her. “You gave me a bad scare, babe.”
    “Gave myself a bad scare, boyo.”
    He watched her eat, then said,
“Silvestri called me.“
    “About what?”
    “You. Wants me to keep you away from
The Groaning Board group until they catch the murderer.”
    “He has some nerve. The group, and
not you?”
    Bill seemed surprised. “Why me?”
    “Silvestri told me that a man in a
blue pinstripe brought Todd Cameron home semiconscious yesterday.” She looked
at the crumbs on her plate. “I guess every third man in New York City wears a
blue pinstripe.”
    Speaking in measured tones, he said,
“Do you want me to account for myself, Sergeant Wetzon?”
    “If you don’t mind.”
    “Why should I mind? I was in the
office all day. Spoke to you, spoke to clients, went to see Evelyn. If you’re okay,
I’m going to stop in again tonight. I’ll order up steamed chicken and soup for
your dinner.”
    “I thought