Page 5 of Death on Riddle Road

But achieving that nirvana wasn’t at the top of my mind at the moment.

To hide my relief that Teague’s reference to me being in trouble involved Gracie and Kit, not him, I turned to hang up my jacket in the back hall.

“Ned says he and Clara are up for spending New Year’s Eve with us,” Teague said from behind me.

“Good, that’s good.You must have talked to him right after you and I hung up.”

I tried to figure times and sequence in the seconds it took to secure my jacket on the peg, wishing I had a hanger to mess with to give me more time.

Clara hadn’t mentioned talking to Ned.

Would she have called Ned while putting away groceries to tell him she wanted to start another murder investigation with me?

No way.

“A lot can happen in a short time,” Teague said.

I decided to focus on the mildness of his words and ignore the subtle edge.

“Uh-huh.Want me to hang up your jacket?”

Almost certainly, Ned called Clara to tell her about Teague’s invitation for us all to spend New Year’s Eve together.Under those circumstances, would Clara havenottold Ned about her encounter in the grocery store and its potential to impinge on New Year’s Eve plans?

No way.

She’d have spilled like an unstable bag of dog treats poked by a determined collie nose.

Which prompted Ned to call Teague back and tell him about Mamie’s plea, causing Teague to wait for me here.

If you think this meant I could accelerate the timetable of telling Teague my secret, because he was here and I was here, and there’s that bromide about no time like the present, you’re nuts.This was not the ambiance for sharing my past.

“No thanks.I’ll keep my jacket.Can’t stay long.”

“Because you have a case?”I asked, as neutral and matter-of-fact as he’d been.

“Uh-huh.”

“Somebody was killed?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Derrick Dorrio?”

“Uh-huh.”

Time for the plunge.The pool wasn’t very deep, since my assessment of the sequence of events meant he already knew.

On one breath, I said, “Mamie — she’s the girlfriend of Derrick Dorrio’s son, Robbie — asked us to find the murderer.”

“Already did,” Teague said laconically.

“What?You know who killed Derrick Dorrio?This fast?”

“No.”

“But you said—” I squinted at him.“Are you trying to confuse me?”

“No.”