a shame.”
“It must be terrible for him, knowing he didn’t do anything wrong and not being able to do anything about it,” Nell said.
“It is. He hears the rumors, though he pretends to ignore them. Yet . . . yet all he seems concerned about is me.” Her smile was sad. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had these kinds of emotions between us.”
“In the meantime, you’re carrying the worry of it all on your shoulders,” Birdie said.
Lily nodded. “I know my father. He’s dedicated and thoughtful, no matter what kind of appearance he presents. Yes, he went through a bad time in his life, but putting that aside, he cares deeply about life. Being falsely convicted of murdering someone would kill him. I mean that literally. It would, it would kill him.”
Her voice quivered slightly, but she continued talking. “I can’t imagine who did this to Justin and Horace. It’s awful. But my father cannot die in prison for something he didn’t do. The police have to find the person who did it. I’ll do anything to help make that happen.”
“Lily, we agree with you. Your father did not commit these awful crimes. We have a favor to ask of you that might help things,” Birdie said. She paused, then said, “Would ‘doing anything’ include letting us use your computer for a few minutes?”
Lily frowned, thinking, wanting to do anything that might help her father. “Patient records are on the computers. You’d need a password. I . . . I can’t let you into those files. They’re confidential.”
“Of course they are,” Nell said quickly. “We wouldn’t ask that of you, Lily. Call us crazy, but looking at your appointment calendar might be of great help to us. They’d be on your computer, right?”
“You just want a date check?” She was surprised. “You want to know when patients had appointments . . . ?” She said the words slowly, processing the request, and knowing that Nell and Birdie were not telling her everything—just enough to ask a legitimate favor.
“Yes,” Nell said. “Just to see what days people came in to see you, to talk with your father. It won’t take any time at all.”
“My father has been thinking about calendars himself,” she said, more to herself than to the others. She looked up. “Appointments are pretty much public knowledge, I suppose. . . .”
“We thought that might be the case,” Nell said, and slipped out the door before Lily could change her mind. Cass followed, offering moral support and technical assistance, should it be needed.
They walked into the reception area where several computers were lined up against a wall, all of them humming and lit up, but without anyone sitting on the chairs in front of them.
Nell and Cass sat next to each other looking at the blue-lit screen.
At the desk, the receptionist who had welcomed them earlier looked over, then busied herself lining up patient files for the nurses to grab.
The calendar program was easy to access. It was arranged by month and had codes that indicated the reason for the visit, the doctor seen, and time in and out. In minutes Nell and Cass had found the pages they needed. Cass clicked PRINT.
The clinic’s door opened, but Nell barely heard it as she and Cass watched the printer pushing out their printouts. It wasn’t until her name was called that Nell looked up.
Franklin Danvers stood on the other side of the receptionist desk, watching her. Nell’s breath caught in her throat.
“Do you work here now, Nell?” His smile was guarded.
Nell straightened up. “Sometimes I feel like I do, I’ve been in here so often recently.”
“Are things all right with Izzy Perry?”
“Yes. She’s almost ready to have her baby. Lily is checking her out right now. How is Tamara doing through all this? It’s been difficult, I know.”
“She has an appointment today, a checkup, just to be sure everything’s all right. She insisted on coming back here. But I . . .”
Nell waited for him to go on.
He looked at her, his eyes harder now. “I want to switch doctors. I will insist on it once my wife is pregnant again. Being in a practice that once housed a murderer doesn’t seem wise.”
The hardness in his voice startled Nell. Behind her, she heard Cass’ sharp intake of breath.
Nell folded the printed papers in half and quickly slipped them into her purse. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I think—and I know Izzy and Sam do, too—that this is