Chapter XXI – Timothy Teller

Timothy’s reading plan worked out far better than he could have hoped. As he began the opening chapter, he discovered that he felt somewhat nervous. He couldn’t be certain how a group of adults would react to something that could be considered somewhat juvenile. However, once he began reading, he stopped worrying.

4:50 from Paddington opened up exciting from the very start, catching Timothy’s interest as well as the rest of the group, if one could judge everyone else by their absolute stillness and silence. They sat as though captivated. Maybe Fabian had been correct; perhaps they had really needed the distraction.

When Timothy passed the book and Renee continued reading on his left, he had to strain to hear at first, she read so very quiet. He wondered, if anyone across the table could catch more than a word or two, and began to expect complaints. Renee’s enthusiasm for the story, however, soon won over and she read with confidence.

On her turn, even Ginger read with interest, but as the story continued and the group’s attention deepened, Timothy’s thoughts began to drift.

Listening to Mrs. McGillicuddy’s horror at having witnessed the murder on the train struck him rather strongly; moreso than he could have expected. Even Ginger’s voice wavered when she read out the woman’s short description of the dead girl. Timothy’s breathing began to shorten, just enough that he could notice it.

His own horror at the discovery of Gary Bradshaw’s body hadn’t seemed to last long. There was a great deal going on to process and he had moved on to other things. Or so he might have thought. Until his horror began to return with the reading.

Somehow imagining a fictional killing, brought the real one into fresh relief. The renewed and ever clear realization that a real, living, breathing man, who had made the decision that morning to come down to the café, now lay as a corpse, still and cold in the corner, fell upon him sharp and heavy.

He fidgeted and tried to focus on the story, but failed. He fidgeted again.

“Are you all right?” Anna’s whisper barely reached his hearing.

He nodded, then shifted in his seat. Flashbacks, ones he had avoided for months now, crashed before his mental vision. His hands shook and he clenched them into fists to steady them.

He could feel Anna still watching him, but he hoped that no one else had noticed. They didn’t seem to. All other eyes at the table focused on Ginger as she continued her reading; at least, as far as he could tell. He shook his head, but the images kept coming, faster and more vivid, and he found it difficult to focus on the people actually in the room with him.

“Come on, man. Keep breathing. Don’t give up on me now…”

The man in front of him didn’t respond. He didn’t move.

“Come on, man. Don’t. Not now…”

The chair on the other side of Renee scraped across the floor and pulled Timothy back into the present. He jumped and met Eddie’s hunted expression. It quickly changed to concern and he stepped behind Renee.

“Are you all right, dude?” He hardly made a sound at all as he bent slightly over him, but Timothy could tell what Eddie said. Ginger continued to read.

“I’m… I’m okay.”

“Sure. You look like it. Pale as you are.” He spoke just above a whisper this time.

Timothy wanted to counter that Eddie looked pretty pale himself, but he didn’t have the mental focus to argue. He gave Eddie a faint smile and nod, before the man made for his seat, and then Timothy grit his teeth.

This is stupid. I’ve managed to be fine for months. Why now?

Ginger passed the book off to Fabian, who read in a surprising and soothing voice. Timothy tried to listen, and managed for about three paragraphs, before the images came flooding into his head again.

Lord, I was fine when I saw the unfortunate dead man. Why now? Because for thirty minutes, it’s been calm and quiet?

In his mind, he could hear machine gun fire and shouts. Smell dust and blood. Feel the growing pit in his stomach and swiftly pounding heart.

No. No, no. Come on. I don’t want to remember. Not now.

Mary began reading and Timothy jolted to the present once more.

Timothy had never heard another reader like Mary Dill. The voices that she assigned for the Agatha Christie characters defied all logic and meaning. When she practiced a squeaking, drawled out Arkansas accent on Jane Marple, Timothy couldn’t help but stare. For the moment, he forgot everything but the incongruity of that voice belonging to a native of a small English village and to a character that he had read about since he was sixteen.

Judging by the expressions on the faces of his companions, he wasn’t alone in his thoughts. Renee did her level best not to laugh with each new and surprising piece of dialog, covering half of her face with her hand. Ginger’s eyes widened and she raised one eyebrow in silent question. Fabian mostly kept his eyes on the tabletop with a glance thrown at Mary every now and then, while he kept his jaw tensed, as if he might like to laugh, but absolutely refused to allow it.

Mary paused when Adrian asked Ginger to join them for an interview, but after a long and wary stare, she jumped when Fabian cleared his throat. Mary hurried back to the book and Timothy listened with a growing urge of his own to laugh. It would have been nice to laugh, but not at the expense of Mary Dill, no matter how annoying the woman tended to be. Despite how comical she made it sound, she read with an obvious belief that she was being absolutely serious.

That sounds like the voice Aunt Jennie gave to the fish in The Cat in the Hat when I was a kid. Miss Marple is… a puzzle with that accent.

When her turn came, Kimberly contrasted Mary with a monotonous reading that produced little inflection and no character voices. A robot might have read with more interest in his tone.

His surprise and puzzle over, Timothy’s thoughts began to drift again. He struggled to bring them to focus. Away from dirt and machine guns. Away from screams and death.

Mary stood rather abruptly, Kimberly paused, and everyone looked up. Mary raised one eyebrow, before pursing her lips and gesturing toward the restroom. One or two people nodded, and Kimberly continued her reading.

Timothy tried to stop his shaking hands and closed his eyes.

“I can’t do this! I can’t do this!”

The man in front of him continued to remain still. No heartbeat met Timothy’s frenzied search.

“God, please, not another one! Please!”

Timothy thought he heard a strange sound and he opened his eyes. Renee tried to jump from her seat, hitting against his shoulder, while Eddie, on her other side, simultaneously screamed in an agony of pain and fell from his chair to the floor.

Timothy leapt to his feet, steadying Renee, who nearly tripped on them both. One of the women screamed, but Eddie had gone silent and still.

Moving as if in a daze, Timothy  stepped away from Renee and stared at the young man lying on the floor. Eddie’s shirt rapidly began changing to a deep crimson, while all the color drained from his face, leaving him lifeless and pale. Timothy felt ill.

God Almighty, what just happened? What just happened?

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Chapter XX – Adrian Terrence

When Eddie left the cousins, nearly falling off the edge of his seat in his eagerness to escape, Adrian watched him before shaking his head. “There’s something about him…”

“He’s scared and hiding something.”

Adrian looked at Xavier and nodded. “I caught onto the scared part.”

“What neither of us know is why he’s scared or what he’s hiding. Or if it should matter to us at all.”

“Doesn’t it have to matter to us, until we know that it doesn’t?”

Xavier would have shrugged, but for the sleeping child. “Pretty much.”

Adrian flipped open his notes again, adding a few lines under Eddie’s name. He read and reread his notes for all three interviews. Nothing stood out particularly. He looked up. “Did you see anything significant near the body?”

“No. Though, I wouldn’t mind a look at his tablet, if only we could move it.” Xavier sighed and shifted Monique just a little. The child slept soundly and didn’t seem to mind the hum of their voices at all. “It’s possible that I missed something. You’re the observant one. I have to work at it.”

Adrian scoffed. “Of course, you would say that.” He focused on his notebook again. “What if I go over there and take a look for a moment, before our next interview? I don’t think you should try to move Monique, or I’d suggest we both go.”

“Agreed, on that last.” Xavier watched the rest of the café group, who all seemed to be engrossed with their book. “It’s probably a good idea, just… Be careful, Adrian.” He turned back toward his cousin, his dark eyes serious. “While I don’t think it makes sense for there to be another murderous attempt, that doesn’t mean there won’t be. I think we need to be careful that we don’t get anyone riled up or thinking we’re after them.”

Adrian nodded. “I’ll be careful, don’t worry. God will take care of us, like He always does. Remember that.”

“I remember it.” Still, Xavier’s expression didn’t soften, as Adrian stood to make his way across the café.

He took his notebook along, just in case he needed it, pushing it into his pocket.

The dead man still rested as they had left him, the coat covering his face and upper body. Adrian sighed at the sight.

Murder is so senseless and cruel. I don’t understand it, Lord, I really don’t. I hope that I never will.

The table in front of the dead man showed the remains of his last meal. A plate with a half-eaten sandwich and most of a cup of black coffee, the cup still resting in the dead man’s hand. A tablet lay on the table near his other hand.

He didn’t have time to react. He didn’t expect the blow.

Adrian used his sleeve to try turning on the tablet, but a password screen greeted him, effectively blocking him out. He gave up the idea.

It would probably be tampering with a crime scene to do anything else. If pressing the button didn’t already violate that restriction.

He turned his attention to the dead man, little as he wanted to. From what he could see without removing the coat, the man dressed decently in a gray sweater and tan slacks. His shoes had been scuffed, but not out of the ordinary way. He wore a watch with a dark wristband on his left wrist. Adrian sighed, before wondering just how many times he had done so that morning.

Why would anyone kill someone in so public a way? Obviously, they got away with it for the moment, but why do it? And, obviously, why Gary Bradshaw? What had he done?

He glanced toward the frosted windows, then around the café. From the corner seat, Gary Bradshaw had a view of the entire room, including a side view of the small preparation area and ordering counter. Still, despite this view, he also had the most secluded seat in the café.

The employees would have the easiest access to him without being obvious. So… He looked back at the party reading around the tables. Ginger and Eddie are the only employees.

He turned back to the table, but saw nothing else of consequence. He inspected the floor, the seat, and even the lap of the dead man. Nothing. With a final sweep of the scene, Adrian rejoined his cousin.

“Did you discover anything?” Xavier asked. He didn’t really look any less worried.

Adrian frowned. “No. Not anything of importance, so far as I can tell.” He sighed yet again. “It does seem like there ought to have been something more though.”

“There isn’t always an obvious clue,” Xavier answered. “That’s only in books and television.”

“Well, I am an author.”

“It doesn’t follow that your life will play out like a story though.”

Adrian almost laughed. “Maybe not.” He wrote down a few notes in his book, regarding the table and the dead man, then set both book and pencil aside. “I think we should talk to Ginger Thomas next.”

Xavier nodded. “Sure. Any particular reason?”

“I’m not sure I see how neither she nor Eddie saw anything regarding the murder. They were in full view of Gary Bradshaw’s booth until after the explosion.”

“Eddie clearly said that he was busy and saw nothing.”

“In a room full of eleven people, someone ought to have seen something, and really those two are the most likely from what I saw.”

“Did you see anything relating to the murder of Gary Bradshaw, Adrian?”

“Not that I know of.”

“It’s possible that there is no one in here less honest than you with the same dearth of knowledge.”

“Except the murderer.” Adrian picked up his pencil again. “I had my back to the man as well.”

“There is that.”

The cousins sat in silence for several seconds. Adrian nearly sighed again, but caught himself. “I detest this entire thing.” He nearly didn’t say the words aloud, but once began, he didn’t stop. “There is a reason that even my father didn’t think I should try for a lawyer. Certainly no one would normally suggest that I be a detective.”

“I know.” Xavier paused a moment. “But…” He smiled faintly, then began again. “As you have reminded me on more than one occasion, this is the task that the Lord has apparently put in front of you for the moment, whether you detest it or not, so He will give you the ability to face it. That applies to you as well as it does to me.”

Adrian tapped his pencil lightly on his other hand. “This is true. Even if we’re not any good at the task either. We can face it.”

“Even if.” Xavier put his head to one side. “Except, I’m already a lawyer and have some experience. And you, well, as the resident genius, you’re good at everything and bound to figure things out.”

Adrian shook his head. “Genius does not equal high levels of brilliance in every area of life, Cousin. We’ve covered this before.”

“It does with you.”

“Hardly.” Adrian couldn’t help but relax a bit at the hint of laughter in Xavier’s voice.

His cousin waited a moment, before nodding. “You said that you want to interview Ginger Thomas next?”

“I rather doubt that she wants to be interviewed at all.” Adrian turned a page in his notebook. “However, I think that we ought to.”

“Let’s ask Miss Thomas to join us then.”

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Chapter XIX – Timothy Teller

Timothy had watched the conclusion of Ginger and Mary’s argument with a growing sense of unease.

There’s too much anger on the one side and far too much willingness to react on the other. It’s a recipe for disaster.

Anna had said nothing for awhile, but seemed lost in her own world. Timothy, with the initial effects of the explosions and the discovery of the corpse wearing off, needed something to do. He wandered off toward his laptop, still resting where he left it at one side of the two unoccupied tables.

Fried. That’s not good. At least, I have backups.

He got up to wander again and happened to catch Ginger’s eye in passing. Arms crossed and gaze narrowed, she appeared to be seething. Timothy gave her a wide berth.

Fabian beckoned for him to join Renee and himself, his deep voice very quiet. “I believe that we need some form of entertainment. Renee disagrees.”

Timothy frowned. “Entertainment?”

“Yes. Some people,” he waved in Mary’s direction, “need distraction from their current circumstances.”

Timothy looked at the tall brunette beside Fabian. “You don’t agree?”

“I-I think it will depend on what he means by entertainment.”

“Ideally, we could have a movie to pass the time.” Fabian folded his hands on the table.

“I think that would add unnecessary chaos and would cause us to be less vigilant.” Renee shrugged and brushed a hand across her stomach. “We are in the presence of a murderer after all.”

“Possibly.” Fabian smiled a bit. “As we have no means to play a movie anyhow, I suppose that the question is moot.”

“Do you have other ideas for entertainment?” Timothy asked.

“Do I have any other ideas for entertainment? No.” Fabian shook his head rather sadly. “I hoped that, perhaps, you might.”

“I suppose that something interactive might keep us cognizant of each other and our surroundings, while affording a distraction from our circumstances.”

“If one could come up with something interactive, that isn’t a party game that no one is up for playing.” Fabian steepled his fingertips, watching Timothy over them.

Timothy glanced around the room, hoping for inspiration. A book on the floor near the counter caught his eye. He jumped for it.

“That’s mine.” Kimberly hardly seemed to care, if her tone could be trusted, that she claimed ownership.

“May we use it?”

“Be my guest.”

“What do you have in mind?” Fabian asked.

Timothy turned the book over in his hands. 4:50 From Paddington. He hadn’t read that particular Agatha Christie book, but at least it was an author that he recognized. He’d try it.

“My sisters and I used to read a book by turns.” He resumed his seat, still holding the book. “Everyone sits together, each taking turn to read for, say, ten minutes at a time.”

“Not everyone is going to want to read aloud.” Renee rubbed her stomach, then sighed.

“Possibly not. Or possibly everyone will be so happy for something to do, that they’ll do it anyway.” He smiled to try to soften what might come off as harsh.

Renee only shrugged.

Fabian reached for the book and looked it over. “So, we read a fictional murder mystery – while we live through a real murder mystery?”

Timothy cocked an eyebrow. “I suppose – yes. Do you have a better idea?”

“No, actually. The idea is intriguing. Hearing Mary Dill, for instance, attempt to voice a rational character should be fascinating.”

Timothy paused and tried to picture Mary calmly reading about a murder. He failed. Maybe we’ll be proven wrong. Maybe it will relax her somehow. He heard the woman’s voice rise in excited conversation with Kimberly a few feet away. Maybe.

Fabian took it upon himself to get the four women to join them. Adrian and Xavier, of course, couldn’t join them; they were busy. And, if they interviewed everyone, they would frequently lose a reader for awhile, but they could manage well enough. To Timothy’s surprise, no one balked.

Fabian set to moving two of the round tables close together and then surrounding them with chairs. He gathered everyone, assigning seats that kept Mary between himself and Kimberly. Timothy saw Ginger watching the proceeding with crossed arms.

He hesitated. He didn’t want to engage with Ginger. He usually avoided her as much as possible and with good reason. He watched her glaring, and sighed.

Sometimes, loving your neighbor means talking to the person that you usually do your best to avoid. He sighed again, but went toward her.

“Are you planning to join us?”

She slowly turned her glare toward him, before her face softened just barely. “What?”

“Are you going to join us while we read?”

She shrugged, arms still crossed. “I said that I would.”

“You’re not going to do it from where you’re standing, are you?”

“If it means that I don’t have to sit anywhere near Mary Dill, I will. I’m quite nearly out of all patience with the woman.”

Timothy bit back a laugh and looked toward the seating arrangements. “I think you’re safe. I think Fabian is putting you next to himself and an empty seat. Probably for Eddie. Mary is two seats away.”

Ginger dropped her arms. “I’m coming.”

Timothy nodded and smiled a bit. “That’s the spirit! Let’s see how this goes.”

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Chapter XVIII – Adrian Terrence

Adrian watched Eddie take a seat. He sent a glance in Ginger’s direction and then tugged at his carrot hair.

It’s a wonder that he hasn’t pulled every strand out by now!

The moment Eddie sat down, he sighed. “I didn’t kill the guy. I didn’t even know him.”

‘Neither of us accused you,” Xavier said.

“But she did. Several times now. And she doesn’t care about protestations of innocence.”

The cousins didn’t try to argue.

“How long have you been working at Café Chocolaté, Eddie?” Adrian turned to a new page in his notebook. “What was your surname again?”

“McIntyre.”

“Very Irish. I named a book character McIntyre once.” Adrian looked up in time to catch Xavier’s half-smile and shook his head.

“Oh.” Eddie seemed to remember the first question. “I’ve been working here for three years.”

“That’s a good length of time. Do you ever plan to go anywhere else?”

Eddie shrugged. “I want to be a nurse, but it takes time to save up for college. I can’t get a loan.”

Adrian nodded. “How old are you, Eddie?”

“Twenty-five.” He sat on the extreme edge of his seat, as still as could be, one hand on each of his legs. He looked up to speak, but otherwise stared at the dark tabletop as if it mesmerized him.

“Are you well acquainted with anyone in the café?” Adrian closed the notebook and pushed it aside.

Maybe it will help to relax him.

“I know Ginger.” Eddie glanced around the room and shrugged. “I recognize most of you, but I’ve never been friends or even enemies with anyone. Ginger usually talks to people and I get the orders ready.”

“Why is that?” Xavier asked. Monique seemed to have fallen quite asleep again. “Is that what you were hired for?”

Eddie tugged on his pant leg. “Yes and no.”

“Meaning?”

“We were both trained to do everything, but Ginger hates getting orders ready. So, we… worked it out.”

“Your boss doesn’t mind?”

“As long as we get the work done and the customers are happy, no. He doesn’t mind. She helps with cleanup and all in the evenings too.”

“How long has Ginger worked here, Eddie?” Adrian rolled his pencil between his fingers.

“Two years.”

“Did you help her get the job?”

Eddie shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Tell us about finding the ice pick.” Xavier seemed to be watching the young man’s face closely.

Eddie jumped. “What about it?”

“Describe it for us.”

Eddie opened his eyes wider, then cleared his throat. “I was just fixing Mary Dill’s coffee. When I went to hand it to her, something rolled off the shelf under the counter, I think, and hit my foot. I looked down and saw the ice pick, and some… red on the floor.”

“Did you know what the red was?”

“It looked like blood to me. It… It wasn’t right to be anything else.”

Xavier nodded.

“Mary started yelling at me and Ginger didn’t look down where the ice pick was. I don’t know why, except I kinda kicked it under the bottom edge of the counter. And why would she. Anyway, I didn’t really think – I didn’t know why the ice pick would have blood on it in the first place, so I picked it up. That’s all. You saw the rest.”

“Why did you pick up the ice pick, if you recognized blood on the blade?”

Eddie shrugged with another tug on his pants. “I don’t know. I didn’t know there had been a murder. I didn’t know what was going on!”

The men sat in silence for a moment or two. Adrian opened his notebook, marked a few things down, then closed it again. Eddie sat, his eyes focused on the tabletop again. Xavier looked thoughtful.

“Eddie, you said that you saw Gary Bradshaw last week, correct?” Adrian asked.

Eddie raised his head. “Yeah, I saw him. He sat in the same seat for most of the afternoon, I think.”

“You think?” Xavier interjected.

Eddie started to raise a hand toward his hair, but tugged on his pant leg again instead. “I can’t pay attention to everyone in the café. I’m too busy making orders. I saw him when he sat down and noticed him once or twice after that. There were a lot of people in that day and Mary Dill wanted her order changed half a dozen times.”

“You can remember Mary being here on the same day?” Adrian asked.

“She’s here on most days.” Eddie shook his head. “That day, she was more needy than usual and nearly spilled her coffee on – Gary Bradshaw? – when he took his order from me.”

“I see.” Adrian had reopened his notebook. “Can you recall who else might have been here on that specific day?”

“No. Not besides myself.”

“And Ginger Thomas?” Xavier asked.

“Of course. Ginger too.”

“Coming to today,” Adrian rolled his pencil between his fingers again, “why don’t you tell us everything that you know about Gary Bradshaw’s visit. Did you see him come in?”

“No.” Eddie moved further toward the edge of his seat, but nearly fell off altogether. “I was busy.”

“Did Ginger take his order?”

“No, actually. I did. Ginger hadn’t come in yet. She had a flat tire this morning and got in late.”

Adrian frowned, but Eddie kept talking.

“He ordered a coffee and a sandwich, I think, if it makes any difference. I took his order, he walked away. I gave him his food a few minutes later.”

“Had Ginger arrived yet?” Xavier asked.

“I don’t know. What difference would that make?”

“You were doing what when the first explosion occurred, Eddie?” Adrian decided not to allow a rabbit trail.

“Fixing Mary Dill’s coffee. Again. She said it was too hot.”

“And you saw nothing? The service area is right beside that booth.”

“I was busy. When the explosion happened, I nearly dropped the container of ice I’d brought out. I turned to see if Ginger was okay, then I saw that the lady over there,” he gestured toward Kimberly, “had fallen and I went to help her up. I didn’t even notice Gary Bradshaw.”

“You had a container of ice on the counter when the explosion occurred, Eddie?” Xavier spoke very quiet, very clear.

Eddie tugged at his pants. “Yes.”

“Were you using the ice pick?”

Eddie stared hard at Xavier, one hand going into a fist just barely in Adrian’s line of sight. “No.” He swallowed visibly. “I didn’t need it.”

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Chapter XVII – Ginger Thomas

Ginger and Eddie sat in silence after Adrian’s prayer. Ginger had never heard a prayer like it. Most of her experiences listening to prayers had come from movies anyway.

She started listlessly swirling the cold dregs of her coffee around the bottom of her cup. She paid no attention to Eddie beside her, who didn’t make enough noise to draw attention otherwise.

Mary Dill rose and decided, for some inexplicable reason, to join them at their table, and Ginger stopped her listless thoughts. She grit her teeth at the sight of Mary in such close proximity to herself and set her coffee cup on the table. Mary appeared oblivious.

She placed her hands one on top of each other almost primly, then leaned forward against the table, her eyes focusing on Eddie.

“Tell me how you did it.”

Eddie stared at her.

“Come on. It’s silly to play this game. Just tell me.”

Ginger glanced across the room at Adrian and struggled to keep her voice even. “He already told you that he didn’t kill the man.”

“That’s what he said.” Mary nodded knowingly. “Or rather, what you said. He’s hardly said anything at all himself.”

Ginger grit her teeth even harder.

“I already told you that I didn’t kill anyone.” Eddie glanced in the direction of Gary Bradshaw and shuddered. “I didn’t even know him! Why would I kill him?”

“You tell me.” The wail and whine seemed gone from Mary’s voice and she almost seemed to grin. She patted her own hand. “You tell me.”

“I had no reason.”

Mary shook her head this time, quite slowly, and Ginger dropped her hands to her lap, gripping them into fists. “I know that you did it. I just think… I’m sure I could figure out why.”

“You weren’t voted in as investigator.” Ginger spoke without ungritting her teeth.

“Who cares about investigating!” Mary raised her palms up to shrug, then returned them to their former position.

Ginger sent another glance toward Adrian and clenched her fists tighter. She didn’t know why she cared if she gave him another fight to settle, but she did and for that reason alone, she didn’t answer Mary at all.

“Let’s see…” Mary raised one hand to her chin. A hint of whining came back into her voice. “You killed him. Probably when the bomb or whatever it was, went off. Easy. Stab and run, no one noticed!”

“I told you that I didn’t.”

“Oh, but I know that you’re lying!”

Ginger jumped and stiffened. Eddie touched her arm, surprising her into silence.

“He looked like a lonely man.” Mary nodded in the direction of the corpse. “Sad too.”

“Where on earth do you divine that from?” Ginger crossed her arms and tried to relax her hands.

“His face.” Mary wiped a tear. “His mouth drooped down so pathetically.”

Ginger and Eddie both stared at the woman.

Mary wiped another tear. “So alone and full of sorrow, and then to just have his very life snuffed out!”

“You derived all of that… from the face… of a dead man?” Ginger looked at Eddie, who continued to stare at Mary in bewilderment.

“It was so obvious. After coming here for a taste of humanity, that humanity cruelly cut him short!”

Ginger raised an eyebrow. “What, now?”

“It’s such a tragedy!” Mary dabbed at her eyes again.

“A tragedy that is making no sense whatsoever,” Ginger muttered.

Mary sniffed and looked at Eddie with a shadow of horror in her wide eyes. “What turned you into such a monster?”

“Just stop already.” Ginger might as well have spoken to the table.

Mary shuddered, her shoulders and head moving dramatically. “The depths of darkness in your eyes… They chill my very blood.”

Ginger, caught between growing anger and sudden amusement, didn’t know how to respond. Who talks like that?

“Maybe you were supremely bored and it sounded like a happy release?”

“Who kills someone because they’re bored? That’s beyond demented!” Eddie’s bewilderment turned to disgust. “You need some serious help.”

Mary cocked her head. “There’s darkness in your eyes, but something to be pitied in your face.”

Ginger rolled her eyes. “Probably the pain of listening to you.”

Mary ignored her. “You had a rough and difficult childhood, perhaps.”

Eddie stiffened and the woman noticed.

“You did! Was the murder a cry for help? A reaction to the longing for a loving childhood that no one ever fulfilled?”

“I-I keep telling you. I didn’t kill anyone.”

Mary shook her head. “Did the poor man represent your father in your mind? The one who never gave you the love that you needed?”

Ginger saw Eddie blanch, then shake his head. He started to answer, but Mary plodded on.

“You saw him sitting there all alone and unnoticed during the explosion, probably staring at a picture of he and a beloved son on his tablet, and you snapped!”

“That doesn’t even make sense and you’re just guessing,” Ginger interjected.

Mary half-rose from the table, towering over Eddie, who leaned back in his chair. “He represented everything you never got – all you could think about at that moment was the man who ignored you your entire life, pouring out all of his love on a sibling, perhaps? He ignored you, hurt you, pushed you aside, and-”

“Stop!” Ginger didn’t care that she raised her voice. She glared and dropped to a menacing tone. “Leave. Him. Alone.”

Mary Dill dropped back into her seat again, the immediate victim. “I-I only… He-”

Ginger pounded her fist on the table and raised her voice to a natural volume. “I said to leave him alone! I meant it.” The look of terror on Mary’s face infuriated her and the likelihood of a scream made her strike the table again. “Leave him alone – and so help me, if you scream or even begin to scream, I’ll throttle you before Eddie can do a thing to stop me!”

Mary’s chin quivered and the rest of the café had fallen silent.

“I’m only bringing out the truth!” Mary’s voice leapt to a wail again. “We need the truth! You heard it! He did it!”

Ginger started to jump to her feet, but for once in his life, Eddie anticipated her and pulled her back down.

“You wouldn’t recognize the truth if it introduced itself to you in human form!”

“Ginger. Stop. Please!” Eddie hadn’t let go of her, probably for fear that she would fulfill her promised throttling.

Her hands shook with anger and she clenched her fists. Eddie had only spoke loud enough for her to hear him and no one else.

“Just… calm down. She’ll just start screaming again and none of us want that. You’ll just get more angry and she’ll scream more.”

“You don’t care as little about what she said as you’re pretending!” She glared at him, then actually wished she hadn’t. It almost seemed to burn him.

“No.” Eddie’s voice sank so low that she could scarcely catch it. He let go of her. “But if you don’t stop, someone will start accusing you next.”

She tried to read his face, but failed. Again. Is he suggesting that I…

Focused on Eddie, Ginger had managed to miss the conversation going on in front of her, but Mary’s wail could not be ignored.

“He’s a killer! Someone has to prove it and protect us!”

Ginger huffed and clenched her fists once more. “He never said he killed anyone. He keeps telling you that he didn’t.”

“I don’t know why you care so much what she says about me, Ginger. I really don’t.” Eddie sighed. Ginger looked at him sharply, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“We’ll question Eddie – along with everyone else.” Adrian stood beside Mary. He smiled slightly, then led her to a different seat nearer to Kimberly. “Why don’t you try to relax and let us take care of it?”

Mary didn’t look like she cared for the idea, but she did as he asked. Adrian turned around.

“Eddie? Would you mind if we talked to you next?”

Eddie nodded and stood. He put his hand on Ginger’s shoulder and bent over her just a moment before walking away. “Try to ignore her, Ginger. At least, try not to let everyone see how angry she makes you. There’s been a murder – do you really want them to make you their primary suspect instead of me?”

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