Murder at Catfish Corner: A Maggie Morgan Mystery by Michelle Goff Page B

There’s nothing wrong with that. We can’t
change how we feel about people.”
    “Did Fallon tell
you that she and Cullen will be moving?”
    “She did,”
Maggie said.
    “I thought it
would be different.”
    Maggie swallowed
and the lump in her throat disappeared. She knew it wasn’t her place to tell
Dennis that he soon would be taking possession of the house, but she did say,
“It will be different. Fallon won’t be living here.”
    The faraway look in Dennis’ eyes suggested he had not heard Maggie. “I’m
going to talk to Stella. Maybe she won’t be like Hazel. Maybe she’ll listen.”
     
    After leaving
Dennis to his power-washing duties, Maggie joined Dr. Griffith at the dairy bar.
She had intended to order a plain grilled chicken sandwich, but after her
confusing encounters with Fallon and Dennis, she switched to a footlong hot dog
and fries. She detected disappointment in Dr. Griffith’s eyes.
    Maggie attempted
an explanation. “I’m usually a salad girl like you, but sometimes you have to
treat yourself.”
    “Don’t feel you
need to convince me. Believe me, when it comes to health and nutrition, most of
my colleagues and I operate on a ‘do as I say, not as I do’ policy. I draw the
line at hot dogs, though. Yuck. But the only thing keeping me from inhaling a
cheeseburger is a dinner date with my husband. We’re having Italian and I have
to save room for fettuccini.” The doctor speared a cherry tomato with her fork
and changed the subject. “As I explained on the phone, I don’t understand why
you wanted to speak to me again. I don’t know how I can help.”
    Maggie nibbled
on a fry and questioned her decision to order a hot dog. She didn’t know how
she could ask questions and take notes with a hot dog in her mouth and mustard
dripping down her chin, so she pushed it aside and focused on the fries. “When
I looked back on our meeting at the clinic, I started thinking that, perhaps,
you had edited your responses to my questions to protect Stella.”
    A smile spread
across Dr. Griffith’s face. “How so?” she asked.
    “Just that maybe
you hadn’t shared your true feelings about Hazel. Basically, I want to know
what you thought of her.”
    “Basically, I
liked her. But let me go back. Since we’re being honest, I need to apologize if
I seemed to have an attitude the day you and Stella came to the clinic. I was
stressed and harried and tense. And you’re right. I didn’t want to say anything
that might bother Stella.”
    “No apology
necessary.”
    “As for Hazel,
I’ve known her my entire life. I spent a lot of time in my dad’s office, so I
grew up around her. And, let me tell you, she ran that office like a drill
sergeant. My dad was a good, kind-hearted man.” Dr. Griffith popped another
cherry tomato into her mouth and nodded her head. “He reminded me of Atticus
Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird . If a patient didn’t have the money to
pay, Dad accepted everything from fresh milk to firewood as payment. That
irritated my mother and Hazel. Dad might have been able to fight one of them,
but not both. They would gang up on him and tell him he couldn’t pay the bills
with milk.” She smiled. “They were right, but so was he. What was he supposed
to do, turn away people who needed help?”
    “It sounds like
he was a good man and, as a fellow Daddy’s girl, I can definitely relate.”
Maggie reached for a fry, but couldn’t resist the temptation any longer and dug
into the hot dog. As soon as she could speak, she said, “Stella was right. This
is an amazing hot dog.”
    “I’ll take your
word for it.”
    Maggie laughed.
“I noticed that Stella called you Vanessa. Did Hazel call you by your first
name, too?”
    She twisted her
mouth into a scowl. “Yes and that was a sticking point with us. I considered it
disrespectful and asked her to call me Dr. Griffith. She argued that she didn’t
call my dad Dr. Griffith and she said she wasn’t about to start with