days.”
“And Howie?” Andrea asked. “How’s he?”
“I haven’t seen him yet, but I think he’s okay,” Ali told her.
“Have they found a note?”
“Not that I know of.”
“They’ll find one,” Andrea said confidently. “They’re bound to. She wouldn’t do such a thing without saying something to the people she was leaving behind.”
“So had she talked to you about her…situation?” Ali asked.
Andrea nodded. “Of course,” she said. “As soon as she got the diagnosis she told me about it. She said we needed to make a plan, and to start looking for someone to take over as executive director.”
“Had she found anyone?” Ali asked.
“In a week?” Andrea returned. “Are you kidding? Of course she hadn’t found anyone. Where would we find someone willing to work as hard as she did? I’m not sure we’ll even be able to keep going, although I know she’d want us to.” Andrea blew noisily into a tissue, tossed that one and reached for another.
“All I can think of,” she continued, “is that her doctor down in Scottsdale must have given her some really bad news. But why didn’t she say something to me when she called. I couldn’t have done anything to help—nobody could—but at least I could have been there for her, could have listened to her and talked to her. She wouldn’t have been so alone, and maybe…”
It struck Ali that Andrea’s comment about Reenie taking her own life without a word of warning to anyone was the workplace equivalent of Matt’s plaintive “Didn’t she love us anymore?” That was Ali’s complaint as well, and it took a moment for her to process the rest of what Andrea had said.
“You talked to her after her doctor’s appointment?” Ali asked.
“Yes,” Andrea replied. “She told me she was stopping by the bank and then she was on her way back here.”
“To the office?”
“That’s what she said, but she wasn’t here when I left. I assumed she’d changed her mind and gone home instead.”
“Which bank?” Ali asked.
“She didn’t say. That’s what the cops wanted to know, too—which bank? I told them I didn’t know. I think they use Bank of America, but I have no idea which branch. Detective Farris said he’d be able to find out. He said she probably needed tocash a check or something, but if she was going to drive herself off a cliff, why would she need money?”
Good question, Ali thought. “So you have spoken to the cops about all this?” she asked.
“Over the weekend,” Andrea said. “The first time was on Saturday afternoon. They came to my house. Then they came here again on Monday, after they found the body. They wanted to know if Reenie was upset about anything. Talk about a stupid question. With that kind of diagnosis, who wouldn’t be upset? Still, she acted more relieved than anything.”
“Relieved?”
“She’d been feeling sick for months—just not herself—and no one could tell her what was wrong. But once what was wrong had a name—even though it was awful—at least she knew what she was up against and nobody could call her a hypochondriac.”
“Somebody called her that?” Ali asked.
Andrea nodded. “Her sister. Sometime around Christmas. So once Reenie knew it was ALS, she was gung-ho to fight it. At least that’s what she told me. That she was going to research it, find out everything she could, and see if there were any programs she might qualify for—you know, experimental things that might help.”
“She said that?” Ali asked. “That she was going to try to be accepted into one of the ongoing protocols?”
“That was just a few days ago,” Andrea added. “What would have made her change her mind?”
Ali shrugged. “I can’t imagine,” she said.
Walking past Andrea’s desk, Ali took a step toward the doorway of what had been and still was Reenie’s private office. The office space itself was modern enough, but the furniture was old-fashioned wooden stuff that had come
“And Howie?” Andrea asked. “How’s he?”
“I haven’t seen him yet, but I think he’s okay,” Ali told her.
“Have they found a note?”
“Not that I know of.”
“They’ll find one,” Andrea said confidently. “They’re bound to. She wouldn’t do such a thing without saying something to the people she was leaving behind.”
“So had she talked to you about her…situation?” Ali asked.
Andrea nodded. “Of course,” she said. “As soon as she got the diagnosis she told me about it. She said we needed to make a plan, and to start looking for someone to take over as executive director.”
“Had she found anyone?” Ali asked.
“In a week?” Andrea returned. “Are you kidding? Of course she hadn’t found anyone. Where would we find someone willing to work as hard as she did? I’m not sure we’ll even be able to keep going, although I know she’d want us to.” Andrea blew noisily into a tissue, tossed that one and reached for another.
“All I can think of,” she continued, “is that her doctor down in Scottsdale must have given her some really bad news. But why didn’t she say something to me when she called. I couldn’t have done anything to help—nobody could—but at least I could have been there for her, could have listened to her and talked to her. She wouldn’t have been so alone, and maybe…”
It struck Ali that Andrea’s comment about Reenie taking her own life without a word of warning to anyone was the workplace equivalent of Matt’s plaintive “Didn’t she love us anymore?” That was Ali’s complaint as well, and it took a moment for her to process the rest of what Andrea had said.
“You talked to her after her doctor’s appointment?” Ali asked.
“Yes,” Andrea replied. “She told me she was stopping by the bank and then she was on her way back here.”
“To the office?”
“That’s what she said, but she wasn’t here when I left. I assumed she’d changed her mind and gone home instead.”
“Which bank?” Ali asked.
“She didn’t say. That’s what the cops wanted to know, too—which bank? I told them I didn’t know. I think they use Bank of America, but I have no idea which branch. Detective Farris said he’d be able to find out. He said she probably needed tocash a check or something, but if she was going to drive herself off a cliff, why would she need money?”
Good question, Ali thought. “So you have spoken to the cops about all this?” she asked.
“Over the weekend,” Andrea said. “The first time was on Saturday afternoon. They came to my house. Then they came here again on Monday, after they found the body. They wanted to know if Reenie was upset about anything. Talk about a stupid question. With that kind of diagnosis, who wouldn’t be upset? Still, she acted more relieved than anything.”
“Relieved?”
“She’d been feeling sick for months—just not herself—and no one could tell her what was wrong. But once what was wrong had a name—even though it was awful—at least she knew what she was up against and nobody could call her a hypochondriac.”
“Somebody called her that?” Ali asked.
Andrea nodded. “Her sister. Sometime around Christmas. So once Reenie knew it was ALS, she was gung-ho to fight it. At least that’s what she told me. That she was going to research it, find out everything she could, and see if there were any programs she might qualify for—you know, experimental things that might help.”
“She said that?” Ali asked. “That she was going to try to be accepted into one of the ongoing protocols?”
“That was just a few days ago,” Andrea added. “What would have made her change her mind?”
Ali shrugged. “I can’t imagine,” she said.
Walking past Andrea’s desk, Ali took a step toward the doorway of what had been and still was Reenie’s private office. The office space itself was modern enough, but the furniture was old-fashioned wooden stuff that had come
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