Page 99 of The Body in the Backyard

Nick nodded at the quantum physics side of his whiteboard. “So, you in?”

“I’m not out.”

“What’s happening here?” Riley asked.

“Weber here is gonna help us keep that vapid bowl of butterscotch pudding alive,” Nick announced.

“That’s great. Now, I hate to be that girl, but is there any way we can negotiate a you-won’t-arrest-any-of-us-during-the-investigation deal?” she asked Weber.

It looked as if it physically pained him to answer. “As long as everyone stays on their best behavior and doesn’t break any laws, I’ll stay focused on the investigation.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Nick said.

“Fine. As long as no one does anything worse than whoever the hell we’re looking for, I’ll try to maybe look the other way. Within reason. Final offer.”

Riley and Nick exchanged a look. She nodded. It was as good as they were going to get.

“Deal,” Nick said. “Brian! Get your ass in here.”

The sound of glass shattering and dogs barking rang out from the kitchen. “I’ll go fix whatever that was,” Riley volunteered.

She left the men and headed back to the kitchen, where she found Lily and Fred sweeping up shards of pickle jar. Mrs. Penny had her feet propped up on the table and was reading over a fat legal document.

“My hand smells like pickles,” Griffin complained.

“I hope you get run over by a fleet of golf carts at your next charity function,” Jasmine said.

“I’m a great golfer. Everyone says so,” Griffin said.

Jasmine frowned at him and stepped into his personal space. “Did you get slightly taller?”

Nick poked his head into the kitchen. “Hey, Gentry. You ever been to Colombia?”

“Never heard of it,” Griffin chirped.

Riley got the distinct feeling that her ex-husband was lying, and the gleam in Nick’s eye told her he was reading it that way too. But before she could dig in any further, Burt whimpered dramatically from the mudroom.

“Gabe, do you have a minute? I need to ask you something,” she said, tilting her head toward the door.

“It would be my pleasure to leave this room as quickly as possible,” Gabe said.

They shrugged into coats, and Riley opened the door to the chilly November afternoon. The dogs bolted out in front of them, the little ones yapping like their lives depended on it.

“What you did back in the kitchen,” Riley began.

“I like to think of it as a calming ether,” Gabe said.

“Yeah, that. Is that something I can do? I mean at least to myself?” she added quickly. Though it would be handy to have that in her arsenal to deploy on Nick when he got too worked up or her grandmother whenever she opened her judgmental mouth.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ve spent the last few days running around from distraction to distraction until I’m too exhausted to function. And when I do try to convene with my spirit guides, I’m either yanked right back out by some emergency or I can’t stop thinking about all the other things that I should be doing. It’s like my brain is too busy to be psychic right now.”

“One must always be able to find peace in chaos,” Gabe said.

“Yeah, buthow? It seems like chaos is everywhere and peace is—hey! Dog number two, no chasing squirrels,” Riley said, clapping her hands. The dachshund ignored her and continued to race around the trunk of the hemlock tree. Its partner in crime, the wiry one, was barking furiously at the front tire of Mrs. Penny’s minivan.

There was a shout and another crash from inside the house that had all three dogs racing to the door in a chorus of frantic barks.