Did Not Survive by Ann Littlewood

much.”
    â€œI’m sorry for your loss,” I said, awkwardly parroting Dr. Rassmussen.
    Dr. Reynolds leaned back. She rotated her office chair to look out the window at leafy branches and a scrap of cloudy sky. Her voice softened. “It wasn’t the same, I think, as when you lost your husband. We weren’t very far along—a few dinners and a lecture or two—and I don’t think it would have gone anywhere, not in the long run. Still, it was nice to be noticed. We agreed it was best to keep it undercover. I liked him, but I suspect he was more optimistic about us than I was. Who knows…”
    I said, “He was…cheerful the last few months. He seemed happy. And…it sounds like he didn’t suffer. At the end.”
    â€œYes. I think that is true.”
    We sat in silence for a moment. I said, “I should have visited him in the hospital. I should have thanked him for not firing me when I was screwing up after Rick died. He was cranky and fussy, but he was fair. I think he was good at his job.”
    She turned back to me and shook her head. “The hospital wouldn’t let anyone but family in.” She looked out the window again. “I don’t know a soul here except Kayla, and I’m coming off a bad divorce. As if there ever was a good one. He was fun to be with.” A wry smile.
    She’d known a different Wallace than I had. “He had a few failed relationships of his own. Not entirely his fault.” Impulsively, I added, “I hope you stay.”
    She smiled. “I’d like to. The salary here is dismal. I’d buy a house if I could.”
    I understood that one. Rick’s life insurance was all that made my home ownership possible.
    â€œIris, I hope you and Kayla get along. She doesn’t know anyone here either. I seem to feel responsible since I recruited her to come work here. Of course, she’s very social.”
    Another request? “She seems good at her job. And fun. People like her. I wouldn’t worry.”
    The vet nodded and fell into silence, staring out the window again. After a moment, still looking away, “Kevin liked you. You were tough to manage, but a good zoo keeper. That’s what he said. He felt that your husband’s death was the worst thing that had happened in all his years at the zoo.”
    I was blind-sided and unable to speak.
    Dr. Reynolds turned her chair back to face me. The narrow, serious face was transformed, predatory. “A killer broke into our zoo. We don’t know who it is or whether it will happen again. Let’s figure this out. Let’s get whoever did this to Kevin.”

Chapter Eight
    Chicken artichoke casserole over rice, green salad, roasted red bell peppers with sweet onions. I had showered and changed before driving over, and I sat in a green sweat suit like a swollen toad with my hair still wet. I ate until common sense finally kicked in, and I could raise my eyes from my plate. “Oh, Marcie. Will you marry me and cook for me forever?”
    â€œI’ll give it some thought.” Marcie flipped a hand at me, brushing it off, but she had the embarrassed glow she got when anyone said something positive about her, as though it couldn’t possibly be true but she couldn’t resist being pleased. She had already cleared her plate and Denny’s. I relinquished mine in hopes that it would be replaced by dessert. It was—strawberry-rhubarb pie and a cup of coffee.
    We sat in her little dining room in her perfectly neat apartment. Marcie was very advanced in home making. That included cooking and baking, so I totally approved. All our plates were from the same set, and they were color coordinated with the place mats, which matched the napkins. The cream and red color scheme did not, however, match Marcie’s pale blue pullover and neat navy slacks. That would have been too much. We’d been friends since college, Oregon State U. She