Page 19 of Death on Riddle Road
Clara and I exchanged a look that confirmed we were on the same wavelength.The look extended to Alan as he stepped into the light.He met it, giving no indication he opposed what we all knew came next.
“Mamie,” Clara said, “I’m sure you’re concerned about Robbie.Let’s go see him together.See how he’s doing.”
Without turning around, Mamie said, “Gramps?”
“Go.I’ll message you if I need you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
We followed Mamieto a white plantation-style house reproportioned to fit a newer subdivision northeast of town.
The still-falling snow remained what I considered polite — not affecting the roads, but applying a seasonal coating on grassy surfaces as well as tasteful red bow-trimmed evergreen wreaths in each window of the house.The large wreath on the front door and roping that framed the door and its sidelights missed that white frosting because they were under a portico formed by a central second-story balcony, all set between large white columns.
Robbie Dorrio answered the melodious doorbell.
If I hadn’t known who to expect, I might not have recognized him as the kid we’d met in our previous encounter.
The brown, shiny hair still flopped over his forehead with boyish charm, but his face had lost most of its younger softness and his lankiness was filling out with adult strength.Most startling, though, was the bleakness of his eyes.
That last change might have happened very recently, because Mamie gave a whisper of a cry and put her arms around him.
His arms reciprocated and he murmured, “Mamie.”
Before this distraction disappeared, I nudged Clara inside with a hand to her back.I passed her, Robbie, and Mamie, establishing my territory inside the house.
A life lesson from my great-aunt.If you’re already inside, it’s harder for people to keep you out.
Some great-aunts teach you to crochet or knit.Kit prepped me for other crafts.
Clara discreetly closed the door, securing our entry.
The foyer was large enough to accommodate all of us, plus an opening to an office on the right that was so neat it was impossible to believe any human ever officed in it, a living room to the left partially screened by a substantial opening that was then filled with fretwork, and a short hallway straight ahead, providing glimpses toward a kitchen, dining area, family room flow.
“You shouldn’t have come.”Robbie’s mutter to Mamie matched his eyes.
“I had to know how you are.I want to be with you.”
He didn’t address that.“Who are they?”
“You remember,” Mamie told him.“They figured it out when that yoga teacher was killed.And they told me to tell Gramps about you and promised it would be okay and it was.”
“Oh, yeah.”A flicker of warmth in his expression died.“You should go.”
That included Mamie.In fact, you could say it centered on her because he’d yet to do more than glance at Clara and me.All his attention was for Mamie.
But the uncertainty she’d exhibited at the flower shop was gone.“You need me.I’m staying.And they can help.”
“We can try—”
Finally looking away from Mamie, Robbie drowned out my caution.“Help with what?”
“Your father’s death.His murder—”
“No.They’re wrong.He was sick.He died.That’s all there is to it.And—”
“Sheriff’s department doesn’t agree,” I said.
He wasn’t listening.
