“I believe that’s her name.”
“And Salzer took you to Janet’s room? Did Maureen come, too?”
“Yes. They both came with me into the room. The the young woman seemed very upset.
She was crying.” He fingered the dahlia. “Perhaps there should have been a postmortem,” he said suddenly. “But I assure you there was no need. Malignant endocarditis is unmistakable. One has to consider the feelings of those who are left.”
“And yet, after fourteen months, you are beginning to think there should have been a postmortem?”
I put a slight edge to my voice.
“Strictly speaking, there should have been, because Dr. Salzer had been treating her, and, as he explained to me, he is a Doctor of Science, not Medicine. But the symptoms…”
“Yeah… are unmistakable. One other thing, doc. Have you ever seen Janet Crosby before? I mean, before she died?”
He looked wary, wondering if I were springing a trap.
“I’ve seen her in her car, but not to speak to.”