Page 84 of The Family Plot
A baby shrieks in its mother’s arms.
“Well,” Greta adds, “not anyone.”
I slide away an inch, pivoting so I face her directly. “Greta, why did you come?”
Her forehead furrows at the bite in my voice.
“You know how I told you I wanted to try something?” she says.
I nod.
“I went to see Lyle Decker. Asked him some questions.”
“What? I thought you weren’t supposed to do that.”
She once told me that the first rule of being a citizen detective is to avoid interfering in real life. She could research from her computer, rifle through public documents, even track down old yearbooks like she did the other day, but she couldn’t speak to suspects of an open case. To do so could jeopardize the official investigation.
“I couldn’t help myself,” she admits, a shiver of excitement bolting through her. “He was so close, just a ferry ride away. I had to see him.”
I glance at the people in the foyer, ensuring no one’s close enough to hear. “And?”
“I met Ruby,” she says. “She was… intense. Wait—she’s not here, is she?” Greta surveys the crowd.
“No,” I say, and I’m actually surprised not to have seen her yet. I expected Ruby to be first in line, eager to make sure I included the embroidery.
“Okay, good,” Greta says. “She didnotlike me. She wouldn’t leave Lyle’s side, and she was, like, shooting daggers at me out of her eyes.”
“That sounds right.” I remember how she glared at me in the driveway, hands bunched into fists, furious that I’d told Elijah about her grandfather. I guess I don’t blame her. It’s a brutal thing, having someone in your family suspected of a murder.
“Anyway, I don’t think Lyle did it,” Greta says, and when I stiffen,she notices. She glides her gaze over my face in a way that makes me itch.
“Why not?”
“I asked about his trespassing complaint against the police chief. He said it was just because Ruby was scared, seeing a cop in their woods. She kept asking Lyle if she was in trouble, and that made him angry. And when I asked why he forbid Ruby from going near your shed, he said Fritz walked Ruby home one day after he found her inside it, reaching for pruning shears or something. Lyle was scared she’d hurt herself.”
“That’s not how Ruby told the story,” I say. “She said Lyle found her wandering near it.”
I’m not sure why I’m arguing. I already know, with gutting certainty, that it wasn’t Lyle who used the shed.
Greta shrugs. “Either way. I got the feeling that Lyle was telling the truth. He didn’t seem defensive about my questions. Just annoyed.”
She pauses as the front door opens. An older couple walks in, hands linked.
“And for what it’s worth,” she says when they walk toward the living room, “it sounds like the police already asked him all this. He kept saying, ‘I told this to your colleague already.’?” Mischief glints in Greta’s eyes. “I didn’t correct his assumption.”
I take in her outfit, a dark blazer over gray slacks. She looks like every detective on TV, sharply dressed in muted colors, and I wonder if she chose these clothes for that very reason.
“So,” she says, almost cheerfully, “onto the next.”
“The next what?”
“Suspect.” Her lips twitch, nudging toward a smile. “I’ve been thinking of my next move, now that Lyle’s tentatively off the list, and I think I should—”
“Greta, you have to stop.” Panic pinches my throat, raising the pitch of my voice. Greta’s half-formed smile reshapes into a frown. Still, I don’t back down. “This isn’t just some case, okay? It’s my brother.”
She watches me before responding, and I hope she can’t hear my heart drumming. How manynext moveswill she go through, crossing off suspects one by one, until all that’s left is Dad?
“I know that,” she says. “Of course I know that. But you asked for my help.”
