Miss Me When I'm Gone

chapter 43



I called Shelly’s old friend Judy the following morning.

“You must be about ready to pop,” she said cheerily.

“Oh. No . . . not quite there yet. Still about six weeks to go.”

“You must be excited. Aren’t you excited?”

Excited. That felt like a good word for a trip to Disney World or a kitchen renovation. For now the feeling felt more akin to anticipating jumping out of an airplane, which required a stronger word. But I was willing to go with excited for the sake of comfortable conversation.

“I am . . . but in the meantime, I’m trying to get as much done as I can on Gretchen’s . . . manuscript.”

“I see. That’s kind of you, sweetie. Did you have more questions? It’s funny you called. Dorothy was asking for you just the other day. She wanted to know if I could get your address through e-mail. She’s not on e-mail. I told her I’d write you, it just slipped my mind.”

“My postal address?”

“Yes. She wants to send you a package. I believe she knitted something for you.”

“Oh. That’s sweet, but . . . she doesn’t need to do that.”

“She actually does. She has a sort of knitting compulsion. I think since Gretchen died, she’s picked up even more speed. I guess it’s therapeutic for her.”

“Well, I’m thinking of coming up to Emerson again,” I said. “While I still can.”

“Really? Would you like to meet again?”

While I appreciated Judy’s friendliness, I wasn’t sure I needed to do tea and cookies with her a second time.

“Oh, I don’t want to impose. Unless you want to meet. I’ve come across a lot of interviews Gretchen did with other people from the area . . . and I’d like to touch base with a few of them. I thought I’d stop in and chat with Dorothy, because I had a couple more questions for her. But I wanted to check in first, see if you thought she’d be up to it.”

“Absolutely. She always likes visitors, and she really enjoyed meeting you. Otherwise she wouldn’t have knit you something.”

“Well, should I call her? Or do you want to chat with her?”

“I’ll talk to her. When do you think you’ll come?”

“This weekend, actually.”

“Just a day trip? Last time I was worried about you driving all that way by yourself at night, in your condition.”

“Well, I’m thinking of spending a couple of nights in a motel in Plantsville this time, so I won’t get tired. And I like driving, generally. So that’s not a problem.”

“Do you know where you’ll be staying in Plantsville? Because I’d suggest staying away from the All Tucked Inn. The Motel 6 is probably okay, though.”

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Your husband coming?”

I found this question slightly irritating. What difference did it make?

“I’m not sure,” I answered.

“Oh. I see. Well, do you want my help getting in touch with some of the other folks you want to interview? Anyone I should give a heads-up to?”

“No, that’s okay. Gretchen left pretty clear contact information for most of these people.”

“Okay. Well, good,” Judy chirped. “But let me know if you need anything.”

“Actually . . . there are just a couple of things that have come up in my reading that I was wondering if you or Diane would know about. Um . . . if you have time to talk now.”

“Sure I do,” Judy said.

“First, I was wondering about Shelly’s friend Melanie.”

I heard Judy suck air between her teeth. “Is she one of the people you’re going to talk to?”

“I’m gonna try,” I admitted.

“Well, be careful with that. Did Gretchen interview her?”

“Yeah.”

“Because she didn’t help prosecutors any, during the trial. She said some terrible things about Shelly. And she was supposed to be her friend.”

“Things like?”

“Oh, like Shelly sleeping with her boss. About Shelly being into drugs and getting involved with shady characters who supposedly would’ve wanted to kill her. All of that was over. Shelly had cleaned up her act years ago. It was like Melanie liked to talk about those things to make herself seem more edgy and interesting. Well, look what it got her—her friend’s murderer walking.”

“So . . . um . . . you don’t think Shelly was involved with Phillip Coleman?”

“Nope. I don’t. Shelly made some mistakes when she was young. And she had some problems. But she was committed to cleaning her life up by that time, for her own sake and for Gretchen’s. She wouldn’t have gotten involved with a man who was engaged. One who had given her that nice job, no less.”

“So you don’t think Melanie was trustworthy?”

“Well . . .” Judy’s voice was high-pitched, hedging. “At the time I just thought she wasn’t very smart. You talk like that about your murdered friend, it’s going to have consequences. She was maybe too naive to know that. I don’t think she had any malice toward Shelly. Maybe she’s improved. Where is she living now?”

“Manchester.”

“Hmm.”

“And what did you think of Shelly’s boss? Phillip Coleman.”

“Nice guy. He was a friend of the Brewers, I believe. Which, I think, is how Shelly got that job. I know his wife a little bit. Our sons are the same age. You going to talk to him?”

“Um . . . I’m not sure. Gretchen documented her interview with him pretty well. At some point, if it looks like her book is publishable, I’ll probably have to talk to all of her sources and verify everything. But I’m not at that stage yet.

“Also, there’s something that’s come up a couple of times in Gretchen’s notes that I’m not sure how to interpret . . . And in some of the recordings she did.”

“Excuse me. The recordings?”

“Yeah. Some of her sources. Like Melanie. She recorded her interviews with them.”

Judy was quiet for a moment. “I see. That’s interesting.”

“I’m not sure if she always told her sources she was recording. I can’t tell.”

“Did she record anything with me and Diane? Or Dorothy?”

“Not that I’ve found, so far.”

“Uh-huh,” Judy said.

“Anyway, there are a few people who come up and I’m not sure how they’re connected to Shelly or anything. There’s some vague stuff related to prescriptions . . . which I assume has something to do with Shelly’s last job. But then there are a few mentions of a couple of doctors. Pediatricians, I guess. She has notes about a Dr. Platt and Dr. Wright. And they seem to come up elsewhere in her . . . research.”

“Oh. Hmm.”

“Do you know either of them?” I asked.

“Dr. Platt was my own pediatrician. I mean, when I was a kid. Not for my own kids. I imagine he was Shelly’s, too. He was basically everybody’s my age at that time in Emerson. He was here forever.”

“According to Gretchen’s notes, he died in 1985.”

“Hmm . . . That sounds about right.”

“Do you know if it was before Shelly died, or after?”

“That I can’t remember. Gretchen wrote about him?”

“Um. A little. I just can’t figure out why. Was he practicing right up until he died?”

“Yes,” Judy said. “I believe he was.”

“Because I’m thinking maybe he treated Gretchen at some point, so she had some memory of him . . .”

“I guess that’s possible, if she got sick while she was visiting Shelly, or something. But I’m sure Linda had a regular pediatrician for Gretchen at home.”

“Yeah. It was just a thought. The other thought was that maybe he was still Shelly’s doctor when she got pregnant.”

“Hmm. You know, he probably was. That’s kind of how it was around here. No one went to the adult doctors till after high school. I mean, usually. Things are a little different now, of course, but—”

“Is it possible that Shelly told him who the father was?”

Judy was silent for a moment.

“I never would have thought of that. I suppose it’s possible. But not likely. He was a nice old man, but not the sort of person you’d confide in about that kind of thing. And I know that after the initial discovery, Shelly, of course, went to an ob-gyn. I remember her dreading it. Riding into Plantsville with her mother every month. She said they were all very disapproving there at the doctor’s office.”

“I’m just throwing ideas out there,” I admitted. “I have no idea. Maybe it’s none of those things. And she made a note of the doctor who replaced Dr. Platt. A woman named Katherine Wright.”

“That name rings a bell, too. She’s not around anymore, though.”

“Interesting that Dr. Platt died the same year as Shelly, though.”

“Hmm. I suppose. But he had a heart attack. He was quite old. He probably shouldn’t have been practicing anymore. But everybody loved him, so no one complained. You know, Dr. Skinner knew him pretty well. I can ask Diane about all of this, if you want.”

“Okay. Sure. You can give her my e-mail if she remembers anything.”

“Sure thing. Anything else?”

“Not for now. Thanks for talking.”

After we hung up, I got on the computer and started making my plans for the weekend. I made a motel reservation near Emerson, wrote to Kevin Conley, and started a list of other people I planned to drop in on—like Bruce, Melanie, and Phillip Coleman.