Page 48 of Death on Riddle Road
She said nothing — she didn’t have much time to before the man pushed his head forward toward her, which might have been more intimidating if the motion hadn’t pulled back the side of his jacket, revealing his paunchy middle, which appeared to be restrained by a layer under his shirt.
“You’re butting in where you’re not wanted again,” he said, with a higher percentage of spittle than anyone not reenactingSinging in the Rain— complete with umbrella — could like.“Leave the Dorrios family alone.”
A martial glint came into Clara’s eyes.Sometimes I forget that side of her.“I don’t take orders from you.I’ll do what I want.And in this case, it’s also what Robbie Dorrio wants, so you’re doubly wrong.As usual.”
She marched smartly past him.
That left me staring at the man across a small stretch of patterned carpet.His red face, puckered chin, and protruding bottom lip portended a toddler’s tantrum.
Crying or rage?
I didn’t want to be around for either.
So, I maneuvered around the man and replicated Clara’s departure as best I could.
It took me the rest of that main hallway, then around a corner before I caught up with her past a bank of elevators.I was able to catch up because she’d stopped at a reception counter that stretched across most of the hallway.No one was at it.
Beyond the desk, a door was closed, with a sign that said:
Please,
No loud noises.
Patients’ rooms
“Who was that?”I asked.
“Oh.That’s Emil,” she said, mostly back to her normal good-humored self.“He’s on the airport board.”
Something tickled at my memory.
Her tone didn’t make that sound like an exalted position.“Okay, he’s on the airport board, but...Why does he give the impression he doesn’t like you?”
“Because he doesn’t like me.”
I found that hard to imagine.“Why?”
“I asked questions at a meeting.”
“What did you ask?When he stopped beating his wife?”
She chuckled.“No.Wish I’d thought of that.”
“What kind of meeting?When?You never told me about this.”
“It was about expanding airport facilities and flights and I asked questions about them not living up to the current rules, so why should anyone trust him — which is what he said.Trust me.Don’t look over there at those pesky facts.I have different facts.Just trust me.”
“I once heard an expert on sexual abuse say that’s the most common phrase to the victims —Trust me.”
Admiringly, she said, “You know the most interesting things.”
“Kit.”My great-aunt explained how I knew interesting things, sometimes horrifying things.“More broadly, repeating the same thing over and over softens up the landing spot in the other person’s brain for what else you say.”
She nodded.“Anyway, Emil didn’t like that I asked questions.Called me names.”
“For asking questions?What kind of names?”
“Said I was delusional.A lunatic.Part of fake news.Kept repeating that over and over.I’d try to show my proof from the board’s own material and he’d shout louder and louder.”
