Page 88 of Death on Riddle Road

DAY FOUR

DECEMBER 30

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

We did notgo to the café for a treat this morning.

Instead, we stopped at the bakery around the corner.

First, we had the dogs in the van.

Second, keeping on our outerwear in the bakery made it less obvious we were dressed for the dog park than if we’d had a sit-down snack at the café.Though our outerwear wasn’t the most reputable, either.

That didn’t put off Carol and Linda from waving to us cheerily from one of the small tables along the wall opposite the counter.

After we had our goodies, we stepped over there to say hello.

“How’s the investigation going?”Linda asked.

“Slowly,” I said, before Clara could share anything.

She agreed with a nod.

“That’s too bad,” Linda said.“Even after talking to Rose Gleiner yesterday, huh?”

“And dinner with Teague,” Carol said to her, proving the local grapevine had not lost any of its efficiency overnight.“Of course, he can’t share details with Sheila.”

“I suppose not.”Linda sounded nearly as disappointed as I felt at that state of affairs.

Carol looked at us and lowered her voice.“But you must know by now that Derrick was asphyxiated — you know, smothered,” she added as if we wouldn’t understand the word.“With a pillow.”

“Lots of pillows available at Kentucky Manor,” Linda said wisely.

“Which the killer must have been counting on — that nobody would notice among all the other pillows.”

So the grapevine did not know all.Yet.

“But Rose Gleiner spotted it right away and insisted the authorities take it seriously,” Linda said.

I had a happy image of Deputy Eckles’ head exploding at hearing this exchange.

Unfortunately, it might not do the structural integrity of Teague’s cranium any good, either.

Though they should both be grateful the grapevine didn’t know it was not a Kentucky Manor pillow.

****

“What about EvanFerguson’s wife?”Clara asked for an opener as she made sure she had the bottom of her jacket under her derriere before sitting.“What kind of name is Quebec anyway?”

We sat atop the most isolated picnic bench in the large-dog enclosure.The three dogs played their canine version of soccer, with Murph mostly the soccer ball and Gracie and LuLu racing him up and down — as well as across — the field.I had no idea how they kept score.

We had the large-dog enclosure to ourselves, but Berrie and the Boston Terriers formed a gang in the small-dog enclosure, along with a pair of newcomers who’d come in, each with a compact mixed pup.

“Quebec means the pathway,” I said.

“It would.”

“Or gift of God or blooming flower or moonlight.”