Healthy Place to Die
“I GASPED. “BUT she—”
Elaine pounced on my involuntary reaction. “Go on. She what?”
It was confession time. A more accomplished liar could have squirmed out of the predicament, but I was never that good with “terminological inexactitudes,” as Winston Churchill once called them.
I looked around to make sure that no one was within earshot. “I didn’t tell you everything,” I admitted.
“Tell me now.”
“I told you that I had a meeting with Kathleen in the Seaweed Forest—”
“A meeting?”
I had been through this before, explaining to Janet. I had withheld the most crucial part then, but now it was time to divulge it. “She asked me to meet her there—”
“Did she say why?” Elaine’s questioning was becoming more like an interrogation. Her tone was sharper and her manner more aggressive. I felt like a transgressor who feels relief at confessing and finally being able to unburden himself.
“She didn’t give any particular reason, no.”
Elaine nodded. “Go on.”
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