Page 28 of The House on Haven Way

“And you called the police?”

“Well, no, I called the hospital. The ambulance came over. Harry Rogers—”

“Harry Rogers!” I screech.

“Uh. Yes?”

“Sorry, go on. Johnny mentioned him.”

“That’s right, they were friends. You see where the shopping center is now? That all used to be fields. Those two used to take their sandwiches from Bond’s drugstore and meet in those fields for lunch. Anyway... He was an Army medic. He must’ve seen horrible things,” Manny’s voice gets softer. “But he hugged Johnny like a brother, crying. I remember he asked if I had called Nancy, Johnny’s sweetheart. I told him no one had that I knew of. Oh, it was a tough week. He was so young, and he knew something was off. That much I remember.”

“Harry?”

“No, Johnny. He must’ve known something was wrong. We found Bisma Fizz and a bottle of syrup of ipecac that was almost empty.”

“Syrup of what?”

“Ipecac. You use it to induce vomiting. Of course, you shouldn’t do that with appendicitis. I think Harry thought that’s what caused the rupture, and you know, peritonitis can set in quick. It can kill you in a day or two. Such a shame. A tragedy.”

My mind is spinning. Harry Rogers poisoned Johnny, and he tried to force himself to vomit. But that made it worse. But it all started with Harry. And who is to say that he didn’t leave the bottle there? He was the medic on the scene. Who is to say that he didn’t hide some evidence, or do something to the body in transport, or at the hospital, that made it all look innocent, natural?

Ooooh, this is turning into the real deal.

Or... Or Johnny has been stuck in limbo, all alone, trapped in the house where he hoped to start a beautiful life—because of an ugly, unfounded suspicion.

I figure maybe doctors at a small rural hospital in the 1950s could have missed something.

On the other hand, a man without any medical training, who’d just had an argument with his friend over a woman, could have had misplaced suspicions.

“Thank you for all this information,” I murmur. “Come and see Johnny soon. I know he’d love to see you. Oh, out of curiosity—what happened to Nancy, Johnny’s sweetheart?” I ask, face carefully curious, even though I know.

“Well, that turned out to be the silver lining. You see, Nancy Benson had her cap set for Harry Rogers right from the start, but he wasn’t interested. She took a shine to Johnny, but when Harry went in person to tell her that he’d died from a burst appendix, she just broke down and sobbed in his arms, and he sort of came to look after her. Gosh, Johnny doesn’t know all this, huh?”

“Nope,” I say, popping my lips over the last syllable. My stomach is roiling.

And other questions are coming to mind.

They were together every day at lunch. Could Harry have been poisoning Johnny slowly?

Nancy never showed up that night, or she would have found Johnny. Why didn’t she come?

Or did she—and then she left him there, because she wanted Harry, too?

Oh, my God.

I don’t know what to believe.

And I don’t know if a death certificate will really help. You can’t fake a ruptured appendix, can you?

But can someone with medical knowledge cause one?

I have to research.

And I don’t want to tell Johnny why.

I meet Amber at her car, and it’s all I can do not to sweep her into my arms and kiss her.

I watched the video she left for me. Five times.