Page 16 of Death on Riddle Road
On the other hand, she had raised her husband’s child — essentially an orphan with his mother dead and his father convicted of murder.
“What kind is Dova?”Ruby repeated.For a beat, I thought my question stumped her.Her brows dropped in a flicker of a frown, then returned to their rightful spot.
“Devoted to that boy, that’s for sure.Two of them against the world, she’d say to him.And—”
Ruby broke off at the sound of voices outside.A glance out one of the windows showed three people converging on the short walk to the post office’s door, each with a package in hand.
The customer flood had arrived.
Clara and I kept our side of the unspoken bargain, quickly gathering up Gracie and preparing to leave.
“Ruby, if we have more questions, it’s okay for us to come back another day, right?”Clara asked.
“That’s fine.My, my.All the questions that must go through your heads.No wonder you two are so good at this.Glad you’re on the job.”
I hoped Teague didn’t hear her or others express that sentiment.Sure, I liked it and I could tell Clara did, too.But it wasn’t likely to go over well with the sheriff’s department to hear residents were glad a couple of amateurs wereon the jobthey considered strictly theirs.
Even if Teague did want our cooperation this one time.
CHAPTER SEVEN
We backtracked toleave Gracie at my house.Not a popular move with her.She perked up some when I promised Murphy would be over later.
Clara’s approach in going to the post office proved prescient.
Mamie came in from making deliveries as we arrived at the flower shop and before we could ring the bell to summon someone.If we’d come here first, as I’d advocated, we’d have been waiting around.
Her face was pale, making her delicate features appear to be made of porcelain, suitable for a heritage doll.But the craftsman messed up around her eyes, making them red and puffy.
“Oh, oh.You’re here.You’re both here.Are you—?Will you—?”
“Yes,” Clara said firmly.
“Oh,thankyou.”
Clara wasn’t done.“That’s why we need to talk to you more.Maybe we could go in back...”
Mamie looked toward the open doorway beside a compact flower cooler, revealing a slice of a workroom behind this area.
Proving her grandfather had been listening — and intended to keep listening — he appeared at the doorway with a stalk of white carnations in one hand.“I’m working back here.You stay up front.If a customer comes in...”
The unspoken message was clear.We were to shut up about murder and not scare off customers.We might also have to step outside, because of the tight quarters.
“Of course, Gramps.”Mamie reached past us to hand him a tablet and keys.“Everything’s there.”Turning back to us, she added, “Never thought Gramps would go high tech, but we upgraded with a delivery app to optimize the route and record deliveries.”
I’d wager Gramps’ motive for the new technology included knowing where his granddaughter was at all times.
“Mamie,” I said, “I know you told Clara about the hospice calling this morning, but tell me what happened so I hear it directly from you.”
I was proud of that tact.It should elicit details, without revealing what Clara missed because of Mamie’s sobs.
“It was awful.”She sniffled.
Loudly.
Was I about to experience the interfering sobs firsthand?
I rapidly backpedaled to safe territory.
