Page 45 of Always Murder

How long had that kind of stuff been going on with West before Bobby reached his breaking point?How long before even Bobby, who was so responsible, who was so controlled, who wanted so badly to do what was right, which for Bobby meant fixing things—how long before even Bobby couldn’t do it anymore?

I reached for the keys that were still in the ignition; I didn’t have a plan, but going inside was better than sitting here.

And that was when the front door of Millie’s house opened.

In the yellow rectangle of light formed by the doorway, Christine appeared first, then Millie.Christine called back over her shoulder, “We’ll be back in one minute.You keep playing!”

Then the door swung shut, and Millie and her mom stood there.In the porch light, they were like partially finished drawings: the outline of their heads, their shoulders, a hint that the artist was going to play with shadow and light.

If you ever needed proof that I’m a bad person, here it is: I slid down in my seat.

“What is wrong with you?”Christine said.Millie didn’t respond, and there was a sharp sound that at first I thought was a slap, and then I realized it was Christine clapping her hands.“You can’t stop talking for five seconds, and now you don’t have anything to say?I asked you a question.”

“But he’s cheating—”

“No, he’s not!”It was close to a shout.When Christine spoke again, it was with the only slightly lower volume of someone who was almost literally trying to swallow their anger.“No, he’s not.And even if he was, who cares, Millie?It’s a game.Elliott is your sister’s guest.”

“AndKemeismyguest.”

It wasn’t a tone I was familiar with from Millie—a surprisingly adolescent challenge.

But Christine clearly was an old hand at it.“We’re not talking about that boy.We’re talking about—”

“His name is Keme.”

“We are talking about,” Christine repeated, enunciating each syllable clearly, “your behavior tonight.When we were having a very pleasant conversation, you wouldn’t stop interrupting—”

“Because nobody was asking Keme any questions.”

“And then you kept asking those ridiculous questions—”

“Because it doesn’t make any sense.He said his condo had a view of the river, and then he said he could see the Rose Garden.He can’t have both!”

Another of those sharp claps came again.The silence that followed made me think of the way candles guttered.

In what Will Gower would have calleda lethal tone, Christine said, “You have been unbearably rude tonight.Jealousy is not a good look on anyone, Millicent.You might think about how it makes you look to behave like that in front of that boy.”I heard the front door open, and Christine said, “Do you know what would be nice?It would be nice if once—once!—somebodyelsecould be the center of attention.”Then, she called out with artificial cheer, “Elliott, don’t go anywhere!I want you to tell Matthew all about that stock thingy you were explaining to me.”

The door shut, and then there was silence.

And more silence.

Was she crying?I couldn’t hear anything, but I thought she was.She must be, right?

I didn’t have much experience with Millie crying, but I suddenly realized one of my core convictions in life: anybody who made Millie cry deserved to be slowly flattened under a steamroller.

I probably would have sneaked a peek—or done something even stupider like gotten out of the SUV to check on her—but I’d sunk down so far that my spine was L-shaped and I was mostly in the footwell.

That was when I heard the front door open and close again.

On a night as still as this one, even Keme’s voice carried.“Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah,” Millie said, her tone too bright and teetering.“I’m fine.”

Then no one said anything.

“I was about go back inside—”

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

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