Bill said, “Me too.”
Mrs. Potato Head didn’t say anything, but Greta didn’t seem to be looking for an answer from her. Greta folded meaty arms across her huge chest. “I have nothing to say to either of you.”
Ohh-kay.
I looked to Bill. He took a step forward, toward the front stairs. “Greta, I’m truly sorry about Russ, you must know that.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “I don’t know anything right now.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “But—”
Greta glared. Her beehive ’do shook as she leaned against the doorjamb. “But what? What do you want, Bill?”
I saw his pointy Adam’s apple bob as he said, “Russ had taken some paperwork home with him from the restaurant. I need it.”
“It’ll have to wait.”
“It really can’t.”
“It has to.” She wiped her forehead with the top of her hand. “Go home.”
Bill held out his hands, pleading. “Greta, please.”
I didn’t understand the hint of desperation I heard in Bill’s voice. Was he looking for the account books I’d seen through the window? Were they for Growl? Or was he looking for something else? Something so important that he’d leave his pride behind and beg a grieving widow?
“No.” Greta’s jaw set stubbornly. “I don’t wish to see anyone right now. Go away.”
76
Heather Webber
She looked at wit’s end. Russ’s death had obviously taken its toll. Not to mention the conversation from the mystery man in her kitchen.
Mrs. Potato Head climbed the front steps, paused on the landing, adjusted her glasses, and glowered at us as well.
Hmmph. Nothing like feeling welcome.
“You heard her,” Mrs. Potato Head said. “The both of you need to leave. Greta needs to rest.”
“You too, Noreen,” Greta said. “I want to be alone.”
A look of hurt flashed across Mrs. Potato Head’s face. “I can understand that, but now is the time you should be with family.”
Although Bill and I had been dismissed, neither of us made ready to leave. Apparently I wasn’t the only one with a nosy streak.
Or was he waiting until everyone left to talk his way into the Grabinsky house?
Greta reached out, touched Noreen’s arm. Her voice had softened noticeably. “Thanks, but no. I truly wish to be alone.”
When Greta turned to go back into the house, I noted that she and Noreen had the same profile . . . and without the Sally Jesse glasses, the same eyes. Sisters, probably.
Greta closed the door with much more caution than when she’d opened it.
Well. I couldn’t say this was a wasted trip, not with overhearing Greta being threatened.
Russ had been a blackmailer. Wasn’t that interesting?
And Bill was desperate to find “paperwork.”
Noreen came down the steps, her chin held high. False bravado, if the tears in her eyes were any indication.
“Noreen, may I have a word with you?” A strained smile tugged at Bill’s lips.
She sniffed, and looked directly at Bill without blinking.
77
“Now’s not a good time. I’m worried about my sister. Greta isn’t used to being alone.”
Aha! They were sisters. Good to know my Clue-playing skills could actually come in handy once in a while.
Bill spoke through clenched teeth. “When, then?”
Noreen wrung her hands. “I’ll be around.”
I looked between the two of them. “You two know each other well?”
Without answering, Noreen said, “I must go.” She hurried down the front walk, opened the door to a small compact, and drove away.
I looked a question at Bill.
