She waited for what seemed a very long time, flipping through tattered issues of Real Simple, and growing increasingly discouraged about the chaotic condition of her home, her finances, her health, and her wardrobe. After learning of the various options for simplifying her life by repackaging her liquid dish detergent in a variety of attractive containers she decided to abandon the quest for lifestyle improvement and looked up, glancing through the glass doors of the waiting room to the outer lobby. There, much to her surprise, she saw Jon and Eudora, along with Tag, coming through the outer doors. Curious as to what brought them to the professional building, she decided to head for the ladies room which was conveniently located in the lobby.
The three were standing together, waiting for the elevator, and didn’t notice her walking behind them and down the hall toward the ladies room. The elevator arrived and they stepped in, so Lucy quickly ducked into the nearby staircase. Reaching the landing to the next floor she peeked through the small window in the fire door and spotted the group walking down the hallway. She waited a few seconds, then stepped out and followed them, careful to remain some distance behind.
Unlike the first floor where the orthopedics practice took up the entire floor, the second floor was occupied by a number of smaller offices arranged on a long hallway. Placards on the doors identified a CPA, a lawyer, a dentist, and other professionals, none of whom seemed to be terribly busy this morning. The hallway was empty apart from Eudora and the two men with her; they had stopped in front of an office and Eudora was shaking her head, refusing to step through the door. Wishing to advance closer, Lucy pulled the notepaper on which she’d jotted down the time and place for Bill’s appointment and studied it as if looking for the correct office. As she proceeded down the hallway, she made a show of checking the names on the doors against the paper in her hand. Approaching the trio, she heard Jon and Tag arguing, but when she passed them they lowered their voices and she couldn’t catch the words.
She reached the end of the hallway where she turned and planned, if they noticed her, to say she must be on the wrong floor. That proved to be unnecessary, however, as Eudora suddenly exclaimed, “I’m not going in there!” and marched off down the hall toward the elevator, arm in arm with her son, Tag. Her husband, Jon, looking quite defeated, trailed behind them.
Lucy followed and saw them enter the elevator together just as she reached the office that Eudora had so vehemently refused to enter. She wasn’t really surprised to see it was occupied by a psychiatrist.
Interesting, thought Lucy, hurrying down the stairs in hopes of returning to the waiting room before Bill’s appointment was over. She was back in her seat, watching CNN announce that the president had officially pardoned a turkey, sparing it from certain death as the main course for someone’s Thanksgiving dinner, when Bill appeared.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
“I got a prescription for more painkillers and an appointment to come back in four weeks.”
“No surgery? Not even a cast?” she asked.
“Nope. They took X-rays and the break is too close to my shoulder for a cast. I’m supposed to stick with the sling and start physical therapy in a couple weeks.” He paused. “The good news is that my shoulder’s not dislocated.”
“What about all that bruising?” asked Lucy as they left the waiting room and walked outside and across the parking lot.
“Normal.”
“And how long before you can go back to work?” she asked.
“Six, maybe eight weeks.”
“That’s after Christmas.” Dismayed, she opened the car door for him. “How are we going to manage?”
“We’ll manage somehow,” he said, climbing into the passenger seat. “We always do. I can probably pick up some work at the hardware store. They’ll need extra help with Christmas coming and I don’t need two hands to help people find Christmas lights and coffeemakers.”
Lucy did some calculations involving the checking account, the savings account, and their usual monthly expenses while she walked around the car and got in the driver’s seat. It wasn’t an encouraging exercise, but they weren’t in any immediate danger of bankruptcy or foreclosure so she shoved her concerns to the back of her mind and started the car. “You’ll never believe who I saw while you were with the doctor.”
“Who? Santa Claus?”
“No. Eudora Clare, Ed Franklin’s ex-wife, along with her son and present husband. It looked to me like they were taking her to see a psychiatrist, but she balked at the door and wouldn’t go in.”
“She does seem to have a screw loose,” said Bill as they turned out of the parking area and onto the road.
“What’s really interesting is that it was Jon, the husband, who was pushing her to see the psychiatrist, but it seemed like Tag, the son, seemed to side with her against Jon,” said Lucy, thinking aloud as she drove. “A witness identified Hank as the arsonist, but when you think about it, Hank and Tag look a lot alike. It might have been Tag who blew up the pub. Maybe Ed planned the whole thing before he was killed and Tag followed through as a sort of final tribute to him. Or maybe he had some sort of cockeyed idea that Mireille was on the same page with Ed about Mexicans and blowing up the restaurant would please her and she’d share her child’s inheritance with him.”
They were passing a little inlet
