Page 40 of The Body in the Backyard

“Huh. I guess that would suck,” Mrs. Penny agreed.

“Thanks, guys. Bringing up all that horrible emotional baggage is definitely the way to get off on a good foot,” Riley said dryly as she got out of the vehicle and stared up at Griffin’s house. Itwasweird, and itdidsuck. But she was an adult with a job to do.

“I was going for empathy,” Nick called after her as she jogged through the rain.

The front door swung open before they made it through the puddles to the porch. Josie, in motorcycle pants and a black leather jacket, stormed out, looking lethal and not at all like a delicate mom-to-be. Riley winced as she caught a whiff of Josie’s level of annoyance.

“How did it go this morning?” Nick asked.

“They’re both vapid narcissists who are barely aware the other one exists. The morning show sucks. And if it weren’t for the money we apparently so desperately need, I would have superglued their faces together and burned down the set to save Harrisburg from getting dumber just by tuning in.”

“Okaaaaaay,” he drawled. “I meant, were there any security issues?”

“Oh.” Josie looked nonplussed and slammed the door behind her. “No. But there’s freaking people freaking everywhere during the show. This place is like that place with the trains that’s really busy?”

“Grand Central Station?” Riley filled in, hoping to be helpful.

Josie pointed at her. “Yeah. That. Despite being surrounded by a few dozen potential murderers, Griffin just whined constantly about his injuries, and Bella spent the last three hours baby talking to that stuffed animal she calls a dog. And now I’m leaving before I commit a crime.”

“Bye, Josie,” Riley called as the woman stomped past them. Even Mrs. Penny wisely gave her wide berth.

Nick waited until Josie got into her car and backed down the driveway. “Those pregnancy hormones seem to be coming along nicely,” he observed.

The car came to a sudden halt at the foot of the driveway, and Josie glared through the windshield at them. She revved the engine once.

Riley held up her hands in surrender. “He’s sorry. He didn’t mean it,” she yelled.

With another long glare, Josie shifted into reverse again and backed into the street. She blew her horn at the glossy black SUV idling in front of the house across the cul-de-sac. The startled driver took off, tires squealing with Josie aggressively tailgating.

“I didn’t know pregnancy hearing was a thing,” Nick said, rubbing a hand over his chest.

“Are we sure she isn’t part vampire?” Riley asked.

“Come on, people! Quit your dillydallying. Gam Gam Gentry needs to see her grandson,” Mrs. Penny barked from the walkway, where she batted away raindrops with her cane.

“She really does look like a Gam Gam,” Riley observed as they watched her huff and puff her way up to the porch.

Mrs. Penny had dressed the part in lilac elastic-waist pants hiked up to the underboobs. Her pastel flower cardigan looked like it was made from a few dozen potholders sewn together. She’d fluffed her purple hair at the crown, smeared on a pearly pink lipstick, and stuffed half a box of tissues up her sleeve.

She strutted right on up to the porch and stabbed the doorbell with her cane.

“I will not punch the turd in the face. I will not punch the turd in the face,” Nick repeated to himself as he took Riley’s hand.

The door opened, and they found themselves face-to-face with a young guy with thick dark hair and glasses.

If Riley wasn’t mistaken, she was looking at Griffin’s pickleball partner and human shield from last night’s vision of Ingram Theodoric. He wore a neatly pressed polo shirt with the wordStaffembroidered on the chest.

“I’m sorry, folks. Mr. Gentry and Ms. Goodshine aren’t accepting visitors at this time. If you have any gifts, I’ll be happy to make sure they receive them. Feel free to take a signed headshot of Mr. Gentry,” he said with a gesture to the stack on the table next to him.

“Outta my way, sonny.” Mrs. Penny prodded him with her cane. “I’m here to see my grandson.”

“Who is it, Staff? Adoring admirers? Do you have my autograph pen?” Griffin limped into view with the inflatable doughnut pillow looped over one arm and a goblet of orange juice in hand. He still wore his on-camera makeup.

“It’s us,” Nick said, making it sound like a threat.

“Oh. Well, I’m still happy to autograph something for you,” Griffin said.

“Should I let them in, Mr. Gentry?” the door guy asked.