39 WINKS by Kathleen Valenti

Author:Kathleen Valenti
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: amateur sleuths;medical thriller
Publisher: Henery Press
Published: 2018-04-17T21:25:32+00:00

Chapter 22

Constantine opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the front door banging open.

Camille stood in the foyer, canvas grocery bags dangling from her hands and forearms. “Hello, sweethearts! We have food.”

“We?” Maggie asked.

“Food?” Constantine asked.

Camille bustled down the hall, followed by Maria and Sophia, Polly’s wine club compatriots and the women with whom Maggie had sat at the funeral.

Maggie trailed the trio into the kitchen.

“We ran into each other in the spice aisle?” Maria said, her voice going up at the end in her signature question mark fashion.

“She was after currants, and we were on the hunt for more dill for our spanakopita,” Sophia supplied. “We decided to join forces for a cook-a-thon.” She deposited her bags on the counter. “I know it’s late.” She glanced at the cat clock for confirmation. “Make that very late. But we figured it would be a good distraction from…” She bit her lip and looked down at the polished counter.

“How is Polly?” Camille asked, brows tenting above her eyes. “Any change?”

“I visited today, but didn’t learn much. Sounds like more imaging and lab work are planned. Hopefully we’ll get some answers soon.”

Camille gave Maggie a side hug. “We could use some answers. Good news, too. The planet needs Polly to stick around.” She brushed away a tear then began extracting food from her bag: whole vanilla beans, Madagascar cinnamon, coconut flour. The items kept coming. She was like the Mary Poppins of groceries.

Camille shooed Maggie from the kitchen with a plate full of quick breads and advice about how worry never fixed anything. By the look on Camille’s face, Maggie doubted whether she followed her own counsel.

Maggie walked back to the living room and sank beside Constantine. She cleared a space for the plate, deposited the bread and leaned against the afghan-clad mound of Constantine’s shoulder, choosing the comfort of human contact over the fear of germs. She tried to remember the last time she felt so dejected, so hopeless. She decided she didn’t want to remember.

Constantine jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Cooking therapy?”

She nodded. “I’m good at eating my feelings so it’s the ultimate symbiotic relationship.”

“You still shaken up by the rock?”

Maggie sat up. “Less shaken and more pissed off. Speaking of…” She checked the time on her phone. “Where’s the officer who’s supposed to come by and take my statement?”

Constantine frowned. “Seems like he—or she— should have been here by now.”

Maggie looked out the window at the snow glimmering beneath Camille’s porch light. “Bad weather can mean bad traffic accidents. Probably a busy night.”

Constantine’s frown deepened, but he nodded. “Back to the rock: any suspects?”

“My first thought was that it was a gift from Dr. Rogers or Deirdre Hart. The timing is just too cute. I confront Rogers about acting as Polly’s physician, hint about the nature of their relationship, make threats about complaining to the medical board, then run into Deirdre, who looked guilty as hell to be found in his office. Now that I know about Howard-slash-Matthew’s ties with the mob…” She shook her head.

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