There was a police car in front of Gert's when Wilson dropped him off after work. "What's happening?" Patrick asked.
"You staying here?"
"Yes."
"Name, please." The cop wrote his name down in a small notebook. "Mrs.
Willett's been taken to the hospital," he said.
"Oh, no," Patrick said.
"Sick. Heart attack, maybe," the cop said.
"Where is the hospital?"
"Kingston."
"Damn," Patrick said.
"Hope for the best," the cop said, putting his notebook away. "All you can do. She's been around here a long time." Patrick went inside. The house felt empty. There was only one other roomer at the moment, a middle aged guy who kept to himself, a high school teacher from the city. Apparently, he spent a month in Woodstock every summer. Bob. He wasn't around.