Chapter Thirty-FourMolly was up early the next morning. She wanted to talk to her friend Lawrence and tried texting him in Morocco, but heard nothing back.
At least maybe that means there hasn’t been another poisoning.
She drank two cups of coffee while staring into space, trying and failing to come up with a way to find out any information at all about Josephine Desrosiers’s baby. Most of her mind knew that it was a total long shot, thinking that the baby had actually lived—a long shot that belonged in a melodrama, to boot. But families were weird, and people were secretive, and that was true enough for her to proceed.
She showered, mostly succeeding in getting the orange out of her hair, got dressed, and started the walk to the village. Because how many thorny problems did not seem ea
