Page 100 of The Body in the Backyard
“Perhaps you are only looking at the chaos?” Gabe suggested.
“What if that’s all there is to see? And are you Zen riddling me right now?” she asked.
He gave her a beguiling smile and bent to pick something up off the ground. It was a perfect scarlet maple leaf. He handed it to her. “Nooooo.”
She smiled, twirling the stem between her fingers, making the leaf spin. “Now you’re being sarcastic.”
“Only in jest. Look at the leaf,” he suggested.
Riley held it up and examined the paper-thin skin, the delicate, symmetrical veining, the precise curves of each edge. It was a perfect piece of nature just existing no matter how many other leaves fell or dogs barked or squirrels raced. It was just there, waiting to be discovered, appreciated.
She felt it then. The quieting. The gradual release of tension she hadn’t been aware she was holding.
“You’re a very good teacher,” Riley told him.
Gabe winced. “I have a confession to make. I am not a good teacher or a good person. It was I who suggested Mr. Gentry insert his hand into the jar.”
She patted him on his muscled forearm. “You’re not a terrible person. You’re just human. Griffin has the ability to bring out the absolute worst in everyone. And if your worst only involves a pickle jar prank, I think you’re still pretty wonderful.”
“I have never wished ill will upon someone before. However, I cannot help but hope chronic constipation will haunt him for the rest of his life,” he confessed.
“Me too, big guy. Me too.”
“Hey! Tall, Dark, and Biceps,” Mrs. Penny yelled from the door. “I’m making a grocery run for dumbass’s truffle mayo. Still wanna go and help me get crap off the top shelf?”
“It would be my pleasure,” Gabe rumbled. “Would you care to join us, Riley?”
“I think I’ll stay here and look at this leaf for a few minutes.”
There was a horrible clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen.
“I’m okay,” Lily yelled.
Riley winced. “Maybe a few hours.”
24
6:58 p.m. Saturday, November 2
Nick opened the door to Peabody Jewelry.
“I’m afraid we’re closing, probably permanently,” Wilfred said defeated without looking up from the cash register.
“I come bearing good tidings,” Nick said, waving the rest of his party inside. Gabe, Weber, and Griffin filed inside. They were all moving a little slowly after Lily and Fred’s early-bird meatloaf-with-four-kinds-of-potatoes dinner.
“Nicholas, how nice to see”—Wilfred’s eyes narrowed when he spotted Griffin—“you.”
“This place looks vaguely familiar,” Griffin said, pausing to admire himself in a mirror above a nearly empty display of earrings.
“Ignore him,” Nick insisted. He pointed at Griffin. “You, go sit in the corner over there, and don’t say anything. If you’re good, we’ll get you a fucking ice cream cone on the way home.”
“I do not wish to have this man in my store,” Wilfred said. His mustache twitched indignantly.
Weber wandered over to the watch case and began a perusal of the paltry selection.
“Do not be concerned. Mr. Gentry has that effect on most people,” Gabe said amicably as he sank to the floor to pet Elizabeth Taylor the cat.
“Did someone say they want my autograph?” Griffin piped up from the chair in the corner.
