feel at the moment.
He hung his head. “I’m sorry. It’s all making me crazy. And this”—he gestured to the guests—“what is this supposed to be?”
“People showing their respect,” his sister responded with admirable evenness. “You could stand to do the same.”
Rage flashed in his eyes again, but a whole lot of upbringing kicked in and he tamped it down quickly. The concept of being buttoned down took on a whole new meaning before my very eyes. “Perhaps,” David said, in overly measured tones, “you could tell me what exactly it is that’s expected of me right now and I’ll comply.”
Tricia’s lip curled in a direction I didn’t know was possible. “Don’t Dad me, David. It won’t accomplish anything positive.”
Suddenly feeling like an intruder, I eased back to let them have it out in private. I’d gotten everything I was going to get out of David at the moment anyway; I was going to have to find a hole in his story before I could challenge it.
So I headed back across the lawn to intrude on another conversation. I’d thought the most I might return to would be Cassady grilling Kyle on his plans for the rest of the weekend or, perhaps, the rest of his life, just in the interest of keeping me well informed. What I returned to was Cassady trying to communicate with only her eyebrows that I should hurry my buns across the lawn because Kyle was engrossed in intense conversation with Detective Cook.
The parents had moved on to work their way across the lawn one group at a time. Kyle and Cassady were where I’d left them, but now Detective Cook had joined them. She seemed dressed for business this time, with a gray department store pantsuit, white cotton blouse, and utterly sensible black pumps.
“Good morning, Detective Cook,” I said as I walked up, thinking the sweet approach might catch her off—guard. Besides, I needed to go easy with Detective Cook if I expected to learn anything useful from her. Not catfighting in front of Kyle was worth considering, too.
But the Hand blew that nice little plan right out of the water. Rather than acknowledging me or even just ignoring me, Detective Cook reached back with her left arm and gave me the Hand. The “wait just a minute, young lady, grown-ups are talking” Hand. The “I’m on Safety Patrol and you’ll stop when I tell you to stop, little dork” Hand. Detective Cook even combined the Hand with leaning in to finish what she was saying to Kyle in lower, more intimate tones. What could one little catfight hurt?
Cassady diplomatically gestured to the house. “Maybe we should go inside and see if there’s anything we can do to help.”
“I’m helping right here,” I said, ladling on a politeness I wasn’t feeling.
“And that fascinating theory is based on …” Detective Cook didn’t even turn to look at me, she just glanced back over her shoulder. Kyle gave me another warning look, but I returned this one. Why should I let this woman snark away at me and not respond? She was an officer of the law, fine, but she was also a leggy blond who was standing a little too close to my … male friend of an extremely intimate nature.
Then again, did I want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how far under my skin she was getting? Maybe a sudden change in course would help keep her off-balance. While I would have found it quite pleasurable to yank her hair out by the handful at this juncture, I refrained. “Hope,” I chirped. “I’m hopeful I’ll find a way to help.”
I couldn’t get a feel for whether my change in attitude since the wee hours this morning was disarming her, but it was making Kyle very nervous. He knew I was up to something and he wasn’t sure what it was. And all it was was a fairly blatant attempt to distract Detective Cook, from me and from Kyle.
However, all I succeeded in doing was eliciting a steely stare over the top of her sunglasses. She tipped her head forward and the sunglasses slid a little
He hung his head. “I’m sorry. It’s all making me crazy. And this”—he gestured to the guests—“what is this supposed to be?”
“People showing their respect,” his sister responded with admirable evenness. “You could stand to do the same.”
Rage flashed in his eyes again, but a whole lot of upbringing kicked in and he tamped it down quickly. The concept of being buttoned down took on a whole new meaning before my very eyes. “Perhaps,” David said, in overly measured tones, “you could tell me what exactly it is that’s expected of me right now and I’ll comply.”
Tricia’s lip curled in a direction I didn’t know was possible. “Don’t Dad me, David. It won’t accomplish anything positive.”
Suddenly feeling like an intruder, I eased back to let them have it out in private. I’d gotten everything I was going to get out of David at the moment anyway; I was going to have to find a hole in his story before I could challenge it.
So I headed back across the lawn to intrude on another conversation. I’d thought the most I might return to would be Cassady grilling Kyle on his plans for the rest of the weekend or, perhaps, the rest of his life, just in the interest of keeping me well informed. What I returned to was Cassady trying to communicate with only her eyebrows that I should hurry my buns across the lawn because Kyle was engrossed in intense conversation with Detective Cook.
The parents had moved on to work their way across the lawn one group at a time. Kyle and Cassady were where I’d left them, but now Detective Cook had joined them. She seemed dressed for business this time, with a gray department store pantsuit, white cotton blouse, and utterly sensible black pumps.
“Good morning, Detective Cook,” I said as I walked up, thinking the sweet approach might catch her off—guard. Besides, I needed to go easy with Detective Cook if I expected to learn anything useful from her. Not catfighting in front of Kyle was worth considering, too.
But the Hand blew that nice little plan right out of the water. Rather than acknowledging me or even just ignoring me, Detective Cook reached back with her left arm and gave me the Hand. The “wait just a minute, young lady, grown-ups are talking” Hand. The “I’m on Safety Patrol and you’ll stop when I tell you to stop, little dork” Hand. Detective Cook even combined the Hand with leaning in to finish what she was saying to Kyle in lower, more intimate tones. What could one little catfight hurt?
Cassady diplomatically gestured to the house. “Maybe we should go inside and see if there’s anything we can do to help.”
“I’m helping right here,” I said, ladling on a politeness I wasn’t feeling.
“And that fascinating theory is based on …” Detective Cook didn’t even turn to look at me, she just glanced back over her shoulder. Kyle gave me another warning look, but I returned this one. Why should I let this woman snark away at me and not respond? She was an officer of the law, fine, but she was also a leggy blond who was standing a little too close to my … male friend of an extremely intimate nature.
Then again, did I want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how far under my skin she was getting? Maybe a sudden change in course would help keep her off-balance. While I would have found it quite pleasurable to yank her hair out by the handful at this juncture, I refrained. “Hope,” I chirped. “I’m hopeful I’ll find a way to help.”
I couldn’t get a feel for whether my change in attitude since the wee hours this morning was disarming her, but it was making Kyle very nervous. He knew I was up to something and he wasn’t sure what it was. And all it was was a fairly blatant attempt to distract Detective Cook, from me and from Kyle.
However, all I succeeded in doing was eliciting a steely stare over the top of her sunglasses. She tipped her head forward and the sunglasses slid a little
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