“Josephine mentioned he’d been seeing someone.That he’d found love again.Do you know who it was?”
She looked surprised at that bit of information and not all too happy about it.“I’ve never even heard a whisper of him dating at all.And if he’d had overnight guests at his home the whole island would have known about it.Estelle Pruitt is his neighbor.He said she used to watch the street with binoculars.”
I arched a brow at that.Estelle Pruitt sounded exactly like someone I needed to talk to.
“Did he have hobbies?Any vices?”
She laughed and the glass in her ice clinked as she remembered.“He put everything he had into his work.He was often called out in the evenings for sick patients.And if I recall he sat on a couple of local boards.He did humanitarian work, and every summer he’d go with a group of doctors to do free exams in places that didn’t have access to medical care.He was a deacon at the Baptist church.”
“What about friends?”I asked, starting to get a picture of who Henry Wainwright really was.
“He and Charlotte had friends, other couples they’d go to dinner with or vacation with.The Everetts, the Phillipses, and the Walkers.”
“Was he left-handed?”
“Oh, Lordy yes.Had the worst handwriting you could imagine.Noreen, she was the office manager at the time, she couldn’t hardly read his notes to update patient files.His signature was barely a scribble.He’d told me when he was a kid his teachers tried to make him write with his right hand, but his mother put a stop to that real quick.Apparently she was a formidable woman.”
“Did you ever meet his wife?”
“Charlotte?”she asked.“Unfortunately, no.She’d been gone two years by the time I came on.And honestly, he never talked about her.I think it was too painful for him.From time to time he’d say something to Dr.Everett and mention Charlotte, as if he’d forgotten she was gone.And then you could just see this sadness come over him.”
“Were you surprised when you’d heard the suicide verdict?”
She paused for a moment and said, “I have to admit that for a brief moment I thought he could have.But it was only a brief moment.There was nothing about him that made me worried about his mental health.He wasn’t depressed.He had friends and colleagues.He lived a full life, and though he missed Charlotte deeply, it didn’t stop him from living.”
“Did you know about the gun in his desk?”
She rolled her eyes.“Everyone knew about it.That man loved guns.I guess when he’d been younger he was something of a hunter, so he had rifles and those kinds of things.We had a Christmas party at his house once and he had a whole gun case in his downstairs den.But I guess the one in his desk was something special because anyone who knew anything about guns seemed excited about it when he brought it up.I know nothing about guns, so I’m no help with what kind it was.”
“I heard he bought it after the break-in at the office,” I said.
“Some addict looking for drugs,” she said.“Scared all of us.We had a good security system, so he only got some samples and some supplies.Henry had other guns for protection, but he said he wanted one close at hand.And from what I remember he was spending more and more late nights up in his study.Said he was working on something.I figured it was a book or something like that.He was a brilliant man.”
The ceiling fan turned.Somewhere past the open French doors a bird made a long single note and stopped.
“If I were going to talk to one person on this island who knew Dr.Wainwright better than anyone else,” I said, “who would you tell me to talk to?”
“Dr.Everett.James Everett.Henry’s partner.They opened the practice together and ran it side by side for twenty years.He gave the eulogy at Henry’s funeral.I saw him at the country club day before yesterday.He was coming out of a tennis lesson.He’s in great shape for his age.I keep telling my husband he’d better start taking better care of himself.He’s fifteen years older than I am.And then I see James probably pushing eighty, and he’s spry as a spring chicken.”
“I appreciate you taking the time to let me ask questions,” I said, coming to my feet.
“Anytime,” she said.“He was a good man.He deserves to have his name cleared.It was an awful scandal.”
I said my goodbyes and drove the two blocks home.I’d had a busy morning, and I wanted nothing more than to change into something comfortable, eat lunch, and put my feet up for a few minutes.
I let myself in through the mudroom door and put down my handbag.There was no scurry of paws to greet me.
“Don’t get up, Chowder,” I called out.“I’m fine.”
Chowder was in his sunny spot in the kitchen and halfway opened an eye as I passed through.I was halfway out of my clothes by the time I reached the top of the stairs.
That’s when my phone rang.I saw my mother’s name.
“Oh, Lord,” I whispered, not sure if I was praying for mercy or for strength.
I closed my eyes for a half second of fortification, then accepted the call and put her on speaker.
“Hi, Mama,” I said, shuffling into the bedroom.
