about Joan Fremont. The actress had been admitted to
Good Cheer Hospital the previous day. Her surgery,
pronounced successful, had been performed that afternoon. But at ten-thirty this morning, Joan had died
suddenly and without warning. She left behind two
grown children and her husband, Addison Kirby, the
city hall reporter for the evening newspaper.
“No wonder her name got misspelled,” Judith remarked. “Joan’s husband works for the paper. The staff
must be shaken by her death.”
“Oh?” Joe raised rust-colored eyebrows above the
sports section. “Kirby, huh? I’ve run into him a few
times at city hall. Nice guy, but strictly business.”
Judith put the newspaper’s front section down on the
table. “They’ll investigate, I assume?”
“Oh, sure,” Joe responded, his gaze back on the
sports page. “They did with Joaquin Somosa, they will
with Joan Fremont. It’s automatic when someone relatively young and in otherwise good health dies in a hospital. The county medical examiner has jurisdiction.”
“That makes sense,” Judith said as she rolled to the
stove. “I made beef-noodle bake. It’s almost done. I’ve
fixed a salad and there are some rolls I’ll heat up. Then
you can take Mother’s portion out to the toolshed.”
SUTURE SELF
5
Joe grimaced. “Can’t I phone it in to her?”
“Joe . . .” Judith stopped. Serving Gertrude’s meals
was a bone of contention since Judith had become
wheelchair-bound. Joe Flynn and Gertrude Grover
didn’t get along. An understatement, Judith thought.
How else to put it? If duels were still legal, they would
have skewered each other by the birdbath a long time
ago.
The phone rang just as Judith slipped the foilwrapped rolls into the oven. Fumbling a bit, she pulled
the cordless receiver out of the gingham pocket on her
wheelchair.
“Coz?” said Renie, who sounded excited. “Guess
what.”
“What? Make it quick, I’ve got my head in the
oven.”
“Coz!” Renie cried. “Nothing’s that bad! Hang in
there, you’re only a few days away from surgery.
You’ll be fine.”
“I mean I’m trying to put dinner together,” Judith
said, sounding cross. Her usual easygoing manner had
begun to fray in recent weeks.
“Oh.” Renie paused. “Good. I mean . . . Never mind.
I called to tell you that Dr. Ming’s office just phoned to
say that they’d had a surgery cancellation on Monday
and I can go in a whole week early. Isn’t that great?
We’ll be in the hospital together.”
Judith brightened. “Really? That’s wonderful.” She
