"Sure, he's still here," Paul Ames said. "Same office old Doc Collins used. You'll probably find him there right now."
Dr. Brown remembered. He didn't remember the details of the appendectomy, but he still had records that showed a completely normal operation.
"I wonder if I could get a copy of that record and have you sign it," Mel said. He explained about the interest of Dr. Winters in her case without revealing the actual circumstances.
"Glad to," said Dr. Brown. "I just wish things hadn't turned out the way they have. One of the loveliest girls that ever grew up here, Alice."
The special memorial service was held in the old community church on Sunday afternoon. It was like the drawing of a curtain across a portion of Mel's life, and he knew that curtain would never open again.
He took a bus leaving town soon after the service.
There was one final bit of evidence, and he wondered all the way back to town why he had not thought of it first. Alice's pregnancy had ended in miscarriage, and there had never been another.
But X-rays had been taken to try to find the cause of Alice's difficulty. If they showed that Alice was normal within the past two years—