Page 69 of Death on Riddle Road

“Not the strongest argument,” I complained.“Though we should follow up to see if she was seen around the hospice center.And, yes, I will tell Teague about this.”

“Eventually, sure.”

Her attention shifted to backing up — the dogs had subsided in the back seat and presumably allowed the rearview mirror to do its intended job.

“There’s another aspect,” I said.“It could be another motive for Derrick to have killed Jaylynn.If she found out about his affair with Payloma, there could have been a blowout over that.”

“That’s a stretch.”But I could tell from her voice it made her unhappy, which meant it wasn’t a big enough stretch for her to dismiss it completely.

So I was surprised that, as Clara shifted into drive, she gave a little bounce, her excitement instantly transmitting to the dogs, who swirled around in back like big chunks in a small blender.

“If you get the dogs going...”I let my grumble trail away.

“Sorry.”She pulled out of the parking lot.“But I did think of something else.”

And then she went silent, making me ask, “What did you think of?”

“If other people think the way you do, trying to make Derrick look guilty—”

“I didn’t—”

She talked over my protest that, unlike her, I was being unbiased and logical.

“—that means Yale and Beverly Dorrios could be unhappy about it coming out, too.”I didn’t get why that pleased her until she added, “And so will Emil.Another instance of that branch of the family bringing down his name.”

A familiar sound came from the back.

“What?”Clara asked me.

Only then did I realize I’d been staring straight ahead, lips parted, for who knew how long.

“Gracie crackled,” I said.

“Crackled?Oh, you mean she has more leaves stuck on her?She was like a wet sucker dropped into them in the fall, but I wonder where she finds them now.It’s so cute.”

“You think it’s cute because she isn’t trying to mulch the inside of your house.But I was thinking about this situation.And how the pieces of the past are like the dead leaves caught in Gracie’s coat.”

“Oh, that’s good, Sheila.Like you can’t really see them, but they’re carried along with.”

“And when you try to get your hands on one it can disintegrate into dust.”

“Well, that’s a little pessimistic.I think we’re doing okay.”

“And,” I continued, “when you think you have them all, you pick up a slight echo — or in the case of dead leaves, a crackle — and know there’s one you missed.Probably more than one because some are so wound up with her fur they don’t make a sound.You find shreds that say there is or could be or was something there, but you don’t know what or if there’s more and if there is, where.”

“You know what you need, Sheila?”

“What?”

“A breakfast treat from the cafe.”

I couldn’t disagree.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

We couldn’t lingerover the treat because Clara had to get home to wrap up tasks for her business as a virtual assistant to authors.

I should use the time to write.