course! I didn’t make the connection with Dr. Jan Van
Boeck. That’s his wife, right? She’s on the city council and just about everywhere on the map in this town.
Oh, my.”
Addison’s smile became wry. “She certainly is. Rumor
has it she may run for mayor. She has powerful friends in
powerful places. Of course, she has enemies, too.”
Renie was suddenly wearing what Judith called
her “boardroom face,” the no-nonsense sharpening
of her features that she presented to corporate clients
in her graphic design business.
“Blanche has made some big waves in the past few
years,” Renie said. “She’s always struck me as putting
Blanche at the head of her agenda, rather than the social and political programs she espouses.”
Addison nodded. “That’s what many people would
say, which is why I have to dance all around her in
print. Which also means I have to dance around Good
Cheer Hospital, because her husband runs the place.”
70
Mary Daheim
“But Good Cheer was on the news last night,” Judith
pointed out. “We missed the first part of the story.
What was that all about?”
“The Seafarers are calling for an investigation into
Somosa’s death,” Addison replied. “Apparently, they
think something’s wrong, too. I intend to meet with
Tubby Turnbull, the team’s general manager, this afternoon.”
Judith was shaking her head. “So I wasn’t wrong,”
she said faintly.
At the door, Addison frowned at Judith. “Wrong
about what?”
“About these deaths being linked,” Judith said.
“Frankly, the deaths of your wife and Somosa struck
me as more than a coincidence right from the start.
Now, with Randall’s passing, the situation seems
downright ominous.”
Addison’s expression was frankly curious. “Why
does it interest you so much, Mrs. Flynn?”
Judith felt the color rise in her cheeks. “Oh . . . You
might say that my hobby is snooping.” She uttered a
lame little laugh.
Addison now looked puzzled. “Snooping?” he said.
“It’d be more accurate,” Renie said, “to say that her
hobby is murder.”
“And to think,” Renie mused after Addison Kirby
had departed, “I wondered how we’d pass the time during our hospital stay.”
“I don’t think the deaths of those poor people were
intended to keep us occupied,” Judith said, feeling
glum and staring up at the mottled plaster ceiling.
The uncommunicative orderly of the previous day
