Needled to Death by Annelise Ryan

Author:Annelise Ryan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2019-05-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

As we enter the building, the heads I saw a moment ago all disappear. We stop inside a small foyer and wait for our host to shut the door. When he turns to us again, I say, “There are some names we have, people we think Toby knew well. We’d like to start by talking to them, if they’re here.”

“Let me get Mrs. Barlow,” our host says. “She’s our housemother and she can probably help you.” With that, he quickly disappears around a corner, leaving us standing there. I get a sense he is relieved to have escaped.

“You’re quite the actress,” Bob says in a whisper, leaning down close enough to my ear that his breath moves my hair.

“It’s all about understanding how people think, what makes them tick,” I whisper back with a shrug.

“And does that sort of manipulation work most of the time?” he counters.

I look up at him and smile warmly. “It worked on you.”

I expect Bob to react with denial, or anger, or at the very least some mild irritation, but instead all he does is smile complacently at me. It’s a bit disconcerting.

By some silent, mutual understanding the two of us take several steps forward, moving deeper into the house. After a few feet, the wall on our left gives way to a wide opening, revealing a large living room area. Straight ahead is a gallery hall that runs left and right, its walls lined with portraits. Beyond that is a suspended landing that splits a flight of stairs going up to the second floor into two more that come down either side of it into the gallery hall. To the right of the landing I see a short length of hallway and part of a large dining area with cafeteria-type seating. It is from here that our door answerer reappears toting a pleasant-looking, fifty-something, cherub-cheeked woman. She boasts a full head of blond hair streaked with white that is doing its best to escape the clip she has on the back of her head. She is a large woman, not fat or portly, but tall and sturdily built. The young man points us out to her and then promptly heads for the stairs, taking them two at a time.

The woman puts on that ubiquitous Midwestern smile and comes toward us. “Hello, I’m Carol Barlow. Welcome to Alpha Theta Pi.” She extends a hand to first me, then Bob. Her warbling voice borders on shrill, though it still manages somehow to come across as pleasant and warm. It, and she, reminds me of Julia Child. After we exchange smiles and handshakes, she says, “What can I do for you fine folks?”

I repeat my spiel about Sharon and Toby, and our desire to speak to some of the boys who knew him.

“Such a sad thing,” Carol says, looking truly troubled. “Why don’t we have a seat and we can talk.” She steers us toward the living room, which is furnished with several couches and chairs arranged in small groupings to create cozy conversational areas.

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