Page 43 of Death on Riddle Road

A new self-insight.A lingering nasty taste in my mouth did not stop me from wanting to eat.

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Haines Tavern isthe historic establishment the town’s named for.It has been a landmark since the 1800s.A handsome, symmetrical red-brick structure forms its core, with a white porch around much of the first floor.The porch adds practical seating in good weather and visual interest now.

After seeing the houses belonging to Robbie Dorrio’s various family members, I particularly appreciated the Haines Tavern holiday decorations — classy, yet with warmth.It pushed Dova and Robbie’s house out of the lead as just-right.

Okay, it didn’t hurt that these decorations were similar in style to what I’d chosen for my house.But still...

We stamped our feet on the porch to dislodge snow from our shoes, stepping to one side, so we didn’t deposit slick patches in the main traffic path.

Inside, we spotted Rich Chafford behind the lectern used to check in those with reservations and to assign tables.That’s Richard Haines Chafford with the middle name the important part when it came to Haines Tavern — this establishment and the town.

He simultaneously frowned and smiled at us.“Great to see you two.Happy holidays.”

We’d helped sort out asituationthat affected the Tavern earlier this year and he remained disposed toward us.That explained the smile.

“You, too,” we both said.

“We’re hoping for lunch,” I added.

“We’re slammed.Completely full.”That explained his frown — on our behalf.

“That’s good news for you, not for us.We’ll—”

“Wait a minute,” Clara said.“Do you have a couple of extra chairs?”

She tipped her head toward the back of the two parlors-turned restaurant areas on the left side of the old house.Neither Rich nor I could see that room from where we were, but he apparently caught what Clara was getting at, because he smiled broadly.

“Sure do.You go on in and we’ll be right there with them.”

He pivoted and headed toward the back of the building.Clara made a follow-me gesture.

“Clara—?”

She repeated the gesture.

I followed.

Not as easy as it sounds, since these were 1800s-proportioned rooms with tables close together.

I focused on wending my way between tables and occupied chairs, nearly running into Clara’s back when a call of “Clara!”rose and she stopped at a large rectangular table in the back room.

“Hi, everyone.Do you mind if Sheila and I join you for lunch?Most of you know her, but for anyone who doesn’t, you’ve heard about her from Millie or me.This is Sheila Mackey.”

If my hands had been free, I would have used them to hold onto my spinning head as introductions and greetings came at me.But they were occupied, instead, with shaking hands.

Two of the hand-shakers were Linda and Carol, whom I’d met in connection with Clara’s high school reunion.Not that they were classmates of hers.They were a full generation older, having been friends of Clara’s mother-in-law, whom Clara cared for until her death, not long before I arrived in town.

Millie was another woman I’d met through Clara, one who’d asked our help because she’d been long dissatisfied with the official story of a friend’s death.

And then there was Fern.As I mentioned before, she was a fellow student at the Beguiling Way Yoga studio.She’d also been less than entirely forthright about the situation Clara, Kit, and I were involved with before Christmas.

Seeing her renewed my pang over the crack in my relationship with Urban Parhem.No doubt because it meant not knowing more about the name Riddle Road.

Fern clearly felt no pang, judging by the casual wave she gave from the far end of the table.

Two more women were introduced as Willa and Violet.