“That’s pretty strong language,” Tim said, breaking off a piece of roll. “Still, I’ve got to say my own experience was much more positive. As I said, I liked Gary Lasch and thought my grandmother got darn good care. I did think of one coincidence I may not have mentioned. Did I tell you that Annamarie Scalli was one of the nurses who took care of her?”

Fran’s eyes widened. “No, you didn’t tell me that.”

“It didn’t seem significant. All the nurses were excellent. I remember Annamarie as dedicated and very caring. When we got the call that my grandmother had died, we went straight to the hospital, of course. Annamarie was sitting by her bed, sobbing. How many nurses react like that, especially when it’s a patient they’ve known only a short time?”

“Not too many,” Fran agreed. “They couldn’t last if they got emotionally entangled with all their patients.”

“Annamarie was a very pretty girl, but she also struck me as kind of naïve,” Tim recalled. “She was only in her early twenties, for heaven sake. When I found out later that Gary Lasch was carrying on with her, I was disgusted with him as a man, but as a doctor I can’t remember a single thing about him to criticize.

“We joked that my grandmother had a crush on Lasch,” Tim reminisced. “He was a really handsome and charming guy, but he also made you feel that he cared about his patients deeply. The guy just inspired confidence. I remember my grandmother saying sometimes he’d look in on her as late as eleven o’clock at night. How many doctors do that?”

“Molly Lasch quoted Annamarie Scalli as saying that as a doctor and as a husband, Gary Lasch wasn’t worth the price she paid for killing him,” Fran observed. “She said Annamarie was pretty positive about it.”

“But Fran, isn’t that the kind of talk you’d expect to hear from a woman in Annamarie’s position?”

“Maybe as a woman she’d say that, yes. But it sounds to me as if she was also talking from the point of view of a nurse.” Fran paused and shook her head. “I don’t know, maybe I’m jumping to conclusions, but adding that to Dr. Jack Morrow’s referring to Gary Lasch and Peter Black as murderers, I can’t help but think there’s something to all this. I sense that I’m onto something, and I suspect that an awful lot of this story has never come out.”

“You’re an investigative reporter, Fran. My bet’s on you to get to the truth. I hardly knew Annamarie Scalli, but I was grateful for the care she took of my grandmother. I’d like to see her murderer caught, and it’s a tragedy if Molly Lasch has been unfairly accused.”

The waiter was placing the salads in front of them.

“Unfairly accused for the second time,” Fran said pointedly.

“That may well be the case, but what’s your next step?”

“I managed to get a meeting tomorrow with Dr. Peter Black. Should be interesting. I’m still trying to set up an appointment with my Cranden Academy fellow student, Jenna Whitehall, and her husband, the mighty Calvin Whitehall.”

“Heavy-duty people.”

Fran nodded. “I know, but they’re all-important to the story, and I’m determined to get to them.” She sighed. “How about let’s give the subject a rest. So what do you think? Will my Yankees win the World Series again this year?”

Tim smiled. “Of course they will.”

“This time I came alone,” Jenna announced, as she phoned Molly from her car. “Just let me in for a few minutes.”

“Jen, you’re sweet, but I begged off from Dr. Daniels, and that took doing. I know it’s only nine o’clock, but my eyes are closing. I really just want to go to bed.”

“Fifteen minutes-that’s all I ask for.”

“Oh, Jen,” Molly said with a sigh. “You win. Come on in. Just be careful. There were some reporters hanging around this afternoon, and I bet Cal wouldn’t be happy to see his wife and the notorious Molly Lasch in the same picture on the front page of the tabloids.”

She opened the door cautiously, and Jenna slipped in. “Oh, Molly,” Jenna said as she hugged her. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”

“You’re my only friend,” Molly said, then quickly added, “No, that’s not true. Fran Simmons is in my corner.”

“Fran’s called about setting up an appointment, but we haven’t connected yet. Cal promised me he’d give her an appointment, and I understand she’s already scheduled to come up here to talk to Peter tomorrow.”

“I know she said she wanted to talk to all of you. I want you to feel free to say anything you want to her. I trust her not to hurt me.”

They went into the family room, where Molly had a fire going. “I have something figured out,” she said. “In this very large house, I live in three rooms-the kitchen, my bedroom, and here. When-and if-this is all over, I’m going to get a smaller place.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Jenna said, nodding in agreement.

“Of course, as you know, the State of Connecticut has other plans for me, and if they have their way, I’ll be in a very small cell.”

“Molly!” Jenna protested.

“I’m sorry.” Molly sat back and studied her friend. “You look great. Basic black suit-an Escada, isn’t it? Heels. Understated but gorgeous jewelry. Where have you been, or is it where are you going?”

“A business lunch. Corporate stuff. I took a late train home. I left my car at the station this morning, and tonight I came directly here. I’ve been feeling rotten all day. Molly, I’m terribly worried about you.”

Molly attempted a smile. “I’m terribly worried about me too.”

They were sitting side by side on the couch, a cushion-width apart. Molly leaned forward, her hands clasped. “Jen, your husband is convinced that I murdered Gary, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Jenna said quietly.

“And he’s also convinced I stabbed Annamarie Scalli to death.”

Jenna did not answer.

“I know he is,” Molly continued. “You know what you mean to me, but, Jen, do me a favor-don’t bring Cal around anymore. The only place I can call a sanctuary is this house. I don’t need enemies in it.”

Molly glanced sideways at her friend. “Oh Jen, don’t start crying on me. It has nothing to do with us. We’re still the girls from Cranden Academy, aren’t we?”

“You bet we are,” Jenna said as she impatiently brushed her eyes with the back of her hand. “But Molly, Cal isn’t the enemy. He wants to call in other lawyers, top-drawer criminal experts, to work with Philip in preparing an insanity defense for you.”

“An insanity defense?”

“Molly,” Jenna burst out, “don’t you realize that a murder conviction could mean life imprisonment for you? Especially on top of the earlier conviction? We can’t let that happen.”

“No, we can’t,” Molly said, standing. “Jen, come into Gary ’s study with me.”

The light was off in the study. Molly switched it on, then deliberately switched it off again. “Last night after all of you left, I went up to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. About midnight, I came down here-and you know something? When I turned on the light, just as I did now, I could remember doing the same thing when I came home from the Cape that Sunday night. I’m sure now that the light in the study was out when I got here, Jenna. I would swear to that!”

“What does that mean, Molly?”

“Think about it. Gary was at his desk. There were papers on it, so he must have been working. It was nighttime. He must have had the light on. If I’m right about remembering that I came home, opened this door, and then turned the light on, it means that whoever killed Gary had turned it off. Don’t you see?”

“Molly,” Jenna murmured, her voice calm but protesting.

“Yesterday I told Dr. Daniels that I remembered something from that night about a door and a lock.”

Molly turned to face her friend and saw the disbelief in her eyes. Her shoulders sagged. “Today, Mrs. Barry said that the spare key we hid in the garden had been in the house for weeks. She said it was there because one day I forgot my key. But I don’t remember that either.”