“It’s probably on his phone, which is missing.”
“Jonah seems a little too old-school for that,” Willow counters. “He seems like he writes things down with a fountain pen.”
We flip through the photos I took of the office just to verify we didn’t miss the appointment book.
“Did you see patient files or anything?”
“They could be at his house.”
“Or at the police station.”
Winston Girthman patshis belly when we walk in.
“Did you make more of that tater tot hot chicken casserole, Willow?” he asks hopefully.
“No, but I can if you do us a favor,” she coaxes.
“Oh. I hope it’s not the medical examiner’s report.”
“We were looking for patient files, but there’s a report?”
“Well, we got the medical examiner to look at the body after he got back from his cruise, and he thinks it wasn’t electrocution, but he’s not sure. They will send it to the county, however.”
“So not an electrocution.”
“Could still be a hanging.” Winston beams. “Suck it, fire department!” He shakes his fist.
“Speaking of the cause of death… we wanted to see if you all logged an appointment book into evidence,” I say.
“I really shouldn’t be giving it to you.” Winston squirms.
“I’ll give you cookies at my shop for life,” Willow sings.
“For life?”
“The shop’s got five months tops, so good luck,” Willow mutters so only I can hear, though I’m not sure if she means it. “Sure! For life. A cookie a day.” Willow forces a smile.
“Or a cupcake?” Winston asks hopefully.
“Or a cupcake a day,” Willow amends.
“You’re still going to make those chocolate toffee ones, right?” Winston asks anxiously.
“I’ll bring you a whole box if you bring me that appointment book,” she promises.
“Shh, not so loud. Well, I’m happy to talk to you about your grandmother’s memory issues. Just right this way to my office—okay?” He leads us into a messy room packed with stuff.
“So, this is everything we took from Dr. Merriweather’s office,” he says.
Willow and I dig through the box.
There’s not much in there—a plastic plant, an old clock that doesn’t work, a book on Jung.
“Why did you take these things as evidence?” I look at Winston.
“We had to fill up the box.”
“Great.” I pull out the appointment book. “At least there’s that.”
