‘But I’m his wife, Fisher. I’m his … I’m his … beloved wife.’ She trailed off a moment, then went over to the desk and picked up the obit. Reading aloud, she said, ‘Beloved wife, Annabel.’

‘What is it?’ Fisher asked, reading her face.

Annabel’s death was the leaf that dammed the stream, Holly Cutter had told her back in the empty cafeteria at Trinity Health Centre.

‘I have to make a call,’ Kate said.

‘It’s good to hear your voice,’ Chatveer Sandhu said. Kate imagined him sitting behind the reception desk, surrounded by those relaxing shades of blue and quiet, forgettable artwork, listening to the gurgle of the extravagant water feature. ‘Everyone at Trinity was just sick when they heard the news. Did you get the flowers we sent?’

‘No,’ Kate said. ‘But I haven’t been home. I’m staying in Belport for a while.’

She’d gone back to her room to make the call and was now sitting on the bed looking out at the fibreglass orca. A wet seagull swooped down and landed in the dry spot beneath its breaching tail.

‘Do you know yet when his service will be?’ Chatveer asked.

‘Not for a few weeks. There’s still a lot to figure out.’

The truth was, she’d hardly stopped to think about things like funeral arrangements and flowers and eulogies, and, frankly, she understood now that there were two versions of John: the husband and the stranger. She would have to find a way to reconcile those two versions before anyone put shovel to dirt.

‘You’re probably looking for Holly,’ Chatveer said. ‘She’s in a meeting right now, but I can give her a message or patch you through to her voicemail.’

She was pretty sure there was no meeting. After Kate’s unannounced visit to Trinity, Holly likely instigated a strict no-Kate phone-screening policy. Either that, or she was standing over Chatveer’s shoulder right now, waving her hands and whispering, ‘I’m not here!’

‘Actually, I was hoping to talk to you,’ she said. ‘I wanted to ask you about one of John’s patients: Annabel. Do you remember her?’

‘Annabel,’ Chatveer said. ‘Of course. Advanced PF. She was a cantankerous old thing, but I liked her. We all did.’

‘Holly told me John took her death pretty hard.’

What she’d really said was that when Annabel died, John took a dark turn.