With any luck, someone who had worked there back then would still be on staff, and I’d find out some more information on both Birch and Ardine. I didn’t hold out much hope, but it was all I had.
I added a line to Joe’s note that I was taking the car and I’d see him for dinner.
Forget the bike. Langhorne was too far.
The group practice was easy to find—a modern, one-story building on the perimeter of the Langhorne Hospital grounds. I parked and walked up to the entrance. The balmy air from this morning was gone, and I zipped up my windbreaker against the sudden chill.
Pretending to be checking messages on my phone, I lingered, watching the reception desk through the plate glass window. I wasn’t exactly sure of the time line, but if Birch joined the practice when he was in his early thirties, it could be close to fifteen years ago now.
One middle-aged woman with frosted blond hair piled high caught my eye. Even from here, I could see she had deep dimples and wore lots of makeup. Her white silky shirt was a size too small and the buttons strained, puckering the material against her generous bosom. She looked like she was in charge of the others. She was certainly talking a lot, which was a good sign, so she was the one I headed for first when I approached the desk.
“Hi. I’m—um—looking for a woman called Ardine Smalls,” I said. “I heard she works here?”
“Oh, God, she left here ages ago, honey. Why are you looking for her?”
“Well, she’s become rather friendly with a friend of mine. In fact, he’s spending a lot of time with her.”
I crossed my fingers inside my pockets. Ardine had been spending a lot of time with Angus. It wasn’t a total lie. “And—um—I just wanted to ask her to lunch. Get to know her a little better, if you know what I mean . . .”
I let my voice trail off, hoping there was a wealth of meaning in what I wasn’t saying.
She looked at me, her eyes outlined with blue liner suddenly shrewd. “I do know what you mean.” She grabbed her wallet and shrugged into a fake fur coat. “I’m on my way to pick up lunch for the girls. You can come with me if you want to chat on the way. What’s your name, honey?”
“Daisy. And that would be great, thanks.”
“Marge. Nice to meet ya.”
Hardly able to believe my luck, I scurried after her. She smelled good, like a very expensive talcum powder. “Have you been here long, Marge?”
“Oh, yes, I helped Dr. Wilson open this practice. It was just him and me at first, you know. Then he took on more associates, including Birch Kunes. I’ve been here for almost twenty years now. Hard to believe.”
“So you worked with Ardine? You remember her?”
“Yes, I do. Strange little thing.” Marge shook her head. “I think Birch only gave her a job because he felt sorry for her.”
We crossed a wide pavilion with stone benches and tables and a canopy of wooden beams overhead. In the summer this would be a pretty spot for people to sit and have lunch, but in late September the wind was slicing across the open area, and Marge and I hurried across to the doors that led into the hospital.
Once we were walking through the cafeteria, she turned to me and lowered her voice. “Don’t repeat this, honey, but I heard she was forced to leave the hospital because of a messy affair.”
“An affair? Seriously?” I couldn’t picture the nerdy Ardine having a steamy liaison.
“Oh, now, see, I’m using the wrong word. It was more of a messy situation.”