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.”
“Katie got a bad grade on her Latin test,” Janine blurted. “Last week, and she told the teacher that she wanted to die. They’re making her meet with a counselor.”
“A counselor is never a bad idea,” Priya said gently.
“She’s been so angry, too, so resentful all of a sudden,” Janine said. “I don’t even know where it’s coming from, what did I even do, and sometimes I think—”
With an awkward squeak of her chair, she jumped up and hurried out of the room.
“Excuse me,” Deb said, and followed her.
“Way to bring the party, Jen.”
Jen started to laugh; everyone did. “I’m sorry,” she said helplessly.
“Don’t be,” Priya said. “It’s good to discuss this stuff.”
“How did the Taylor situation resolve?”
“Wade golfs with someone on the school board and he called before our meeting, which is kind of unfair, I know, but the point is Taylor didn’t mean to even draw blood. It was bad luck, and a total overreaction on the school’s part. Kids make mistakes.”