The Neighbor's Secret(69)

Laurel checked her watch. “Don’t you have book club tonight?”

“This is the only time the window guy can come and Dad is working so he can be free tomorrow.”

Laurel glanced back, at the cardboard.

“People have been so supportive,” Annie said. “Abe’s mom stopped by this morning with coffee. Did you guys have a fight?”

“I wouldn’t call it a fight.”

“I told his mom they should still come to the party.”

Laurel sighed. “I wish you hadn’t done that. He’s just … it’s always all about him, you know?”

“Interpersonal relationships don’t come naturally to people like him.”

“What do you mean?”

“His autism.”

“No.” Laurel scrunched up her face. “He’s got something different. He gets violent.”

There was a tight coil in Annie’s chest. “What do you mean, violent?”

“I don’t know. He lashes out. What’s the word for someone who doesn’t care about other people’s feelings? You know, the kid that probably tortures kittens for fun?”

Annie blinked. “A sociopath?”

“Some other thing. A disorder. Colin told me once after Abe had a big meltdown.”

“Has he ever hurt you?”

Laurel shrugged. “He’s yelled a few times, and thrown things. He’s big into punishments. When people wrong him.”

“That’s not okay,” Annie said. The casual way Laurel said it made Annie’s stomach turn. “That’s abusive behavior, Laurel. You shouldn’t be anywhere near that.” She turned around to look at the jagged glass that remained in the window frame. “Did he do that?”

Laurel shrugged again. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”



The motive is the easy part. It’s the same reason for murder as in ninety-nine percent of mystery novels:

Revenge.





CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE



“The tamales are here, and they’re beautiful!” Janine trilled. “Bienvenidos, Lena! Guys, she rendered her own lard, just like her mother Alma used to do, even with all the work of Laurel’s party.”

“It was nothing,” Lena said. “I have a party planner.”

“The chickpea curry is exquisite,” Harriet said. She dipped a spoon into the bowl on her lap.

“Thank you,” Priya said. “I was worried there was too much ginger.”

“Deb, did your family really make this eighty-proof moonshine?”

“Probably?” Deb shrugged. “But the recipe is from online.”

“So,” Harriet said. “On to the book?”

No one responded.

“Iphigenia?” Harriet repeated. “Anyone?”

“True confession,” Janine said with a guilty glance around the room. “I didn’t finish it. I’m sorry, the end of the year is crazy.”

The rest of them paused for whatever brag was coming next—Katie’s lacrosse or mock trial or even the twins’ basketball—but none came.

“I didn’t read it either,” Lena said.

“You’re excused,” Deb said. “You rendered your own lard. I didn’t read it either.”

“I didn’t even start it,” Jen said. This was a surprise to the women, but given that Jen seemed to have not taken the time to brush her hair, people decided to believe her.

“Did anyone read it?” Priya said. “It was incredible.”

“The best book of the year, I think,” Harriet said.

“Absolutely. The writing was gorgeous.”

“Fill us in,” Deb said.

Priya and Harriet looked at each other helplessly.

“‘Query,’” Harriet read from her notes, “‘whether this Greek Chorus crafts the narrative or just reports it? As a reader, what authority did you give its voice?’”

Blank looks all around.

“Okay, here’s another: ‘What is the difference between vengeance and protection?’ No one? Okay—we could discuss the role of prophecies.”

“Prophecies?”

“You know how the Greek gods hand down prophecies to characters, outlining how they’re going to suffer and die and then the characters turn themselves into all sorts of pretzels to thwart the prophecy but never can. The prophecies just create blind spots?”

“Such interesting discussion topics!” Janine said.

“Yes,” Harriet said with a sigh of disappointment, “it could have been great.”

“Jen,” Deb said, “can’t you give us one of your mini-lectures so we feel less stupid?”

“Are you okay, Jen?” Priya said. “You seem not yourself.”

“Abe’s not doing so well, guys. His school wants to meet tomorrow. I think to kick him out.”

“Nan wouldn’t do that,” Priya said quickly. There were some tiny uncertain nods around the room. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

“I don’t know,” Jen said. “We always seem to find ourselves here.”

“In second grade,” Priya said, “Taylor tripped one of her friends, stuck out her foot because they were in a fight, and the way the girl landed on the pavement, she bit through her lip and needed stitches. I thought Taylor was going to get expelled.”