Four Blind Mice

Chapter One Hundred and One

In the early evening, Nana and I took a ride out to Virginia in the old Porsche. She'd asked if we could take the drive, just the two of us. Aunt Tia was home with the kids.

“Remember when you first got this car? We used to take a ride just about every Sunday. I looked forward to it all week,” she said once we were out of Washington and on the highway.

“Car's almost fifteen years old now,” I said.

“Still runs pretty good, though,” Nana said. She patted the dash. “I like old things that work. Long, long time ago, I used to go for a car ride every Sunday with Charles. This was before you came to live with me, Alex. You remember your grandfather?”

I shook my head. “Not as much as I'd like to. Just from the photographs around the, house I know the two of you came to visit in North Carolina when I was little. He was bald and used to wear red suspenders.”

“Oh, those awful, awful suspenders of his. He had a couple dozen pairs. All red.”

She nodded, then Nana seemed to go inside herself for a moment or two. She didn't talk about my grandfather very often. He had died when he was just forty-four. He'd been a teacher, just like Nana, though he taught Math, and she was English. They had met while working at the same school in Southeast.

“Your grandfather was an excellent man, Alex. Loved to dress up and wear a nice hat. I still have most of his hats. You go through the Depression, things we saw, you like to dress up sometimes. Gives you a nice feeling about yourself.”

She looked over at me. “I made a mistake, though, Alex.”

I glanced over at her. “You made a mistake? This is a great shock. I'd better pull over to the side of the road.”

She cackled. “Just one that I can recall. See, I knew how good it could be to fall in love. I really loved Charles. After he died, though, I never tried to find love again. I think I was afraid of failing. Isn't that pathetic, Alex? I was too afraid to go after the best thing I ever found in this life.”

I reached over and patted her shoulder. “Don't talk like you're leaving us.”

“Oh, I'm not. I have a lot of confidence in Doc Kayla. She would tell me if it was time for me to start collecting on all my old debts. Which I plan to do, by the way.”

“So, this is a parable, a lesson?”

Nana shook her head. “Not really. Just an anecdote while we're taking this nice ride in your car. Drive on, young man. Drive on. I'm enjoying this immensely. We should do it more often. How about every Sunday?”

The whole ride out to Virginia and back, we never once talked about Nana's procedure in the hospital the next morning. She obviously didn't want to, and I respected that. But the operation, at her age, scared me as much as any murder case could. No, actually it scared me more.

When we got back to the house I went upstairs and called Jamilla. She was at work but we talked for nearly an hour anyway.

Then I sat down at my computer. For the first time in over a week I pulled up my notes on the Three Blind Mice. There was still one big question I needed to answer if I could. Big if.

Who was behind the three of them?

Who was the real killer?