Page 2 of Death on Riddle Road
I’m entirely grateful for that drop-kick.
I enjoy my life here.
I’ve treasured that no one knew Sheila Mackey — fur mom of rescue collie Gracie, dog park regular, North Bend County resident, and sometimes sleuth — was also the person presented to the world asAbandon All’s author.
But, soon, Teague will know.
That’s why I’d called him — to commit myself to telling him.
Later.
Though not much later.
Unlike my fictional character Mary Chase Rodgers, I wasn’t avoiding dealing with something.Wasn’t masking my reaction to meeting North Carolina store owner and community leader Whit Kendall with internal and external misdirection.
Oh, no, not me.I was facing it head-on.
Or would be.
Soon.
Real soon.
Before this year ended in five days.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about my just-finished call with Teague was that when I’d said we had to talk — a phrase renowned as a harbinger of bad news — he readily agreed.He didn’t push me to tell him right then — perhaps recognizing in that detective brain of his that behind the wheel and over the phone were not the way for me to share anything substantive.
Still, it was a little odd...
No, I would not obsess about possibilities.
I had secrets I’d been keeping from him and after much urging from Kit, I intended to spill them.Plain and simple.
The first step had been placing the we-need-to-talk call to him.
Done.
The second step would be to have the talk.
My stomach gripped and twisted.
So, yeah, I switched my thoughts to the characters and their woes.
And then this phone call came in.
I welcomed it, especially since it was from Clara, my fellow dog park denizen and sometimes sleuth, as well as my best friend in Kentucky and beyond.
I answered with, “Clara, you couldn’t have heard from Ned already.I barely hung up with Teague and he was going to call Ned about all of us spending New Year’s Eve together, so—”
“Sheila— we have to help her.”
“Her who?Help how?”I asked semi-incoherently.
“Mamie.”
The name clarified nothing for me, which I brilliantly conveyed by asking, “Who?”
“You know, Mamie from the flower shop by the yoga studio,” she said impatiently.We attended classes together at the Beguiling Way Yoga Studio, though the holidays wiped that out for this week.A tiny flower shop next to it was run by a man and his granddaughter, whose name...possibly was Mamie.I based that possibility on what Clara said, not on my memory.“And now her boyfriend’s father has been murdered.”
