Chew a few cookies instead.” “After I wash my hands.” Dr. Flo marched to the sink with such determination that Katharine sang the opening bars of “When the Saints Go Marching In.” Dr. Flo did not reply. Katharine spoke to her back. “We can easily get there by two if we leave here by eight, and if you go get your things and spend the night here, we can get an earlier start. My niece finished one of my guest rooms last night. Why don’t you call the Darien cemetery again and see if they can take the caskets tomorrow afternoon? If not, whoever Burch has digging them up will surely arrange storage until the cemetery can take them. At Burch’s expense.” “They’d jolly well better.” At the sink, Dr. Flo scrubbed her hands like she was scrubbing away not only silverfish but Hayden Curtis and Burch Bayard. As she reached for the towel, the doorbell rang. “That must be Lamar Franklin. I forgot he was coming.” Katharine headed toward the door. “He’s interested in genealogy, and he’s bringing me a book on Confederate privateers.
