Shakespeare's Secret by Elise Broach

Shakespeare's Secret by Elise Broach

Author:Elise Broach [Broach, Elise]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Childrens, Fiction, Middle Grade, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Young Adult
ISBN: 9780312371326
Google: gk_78AQeYkYC
Amazon: 0312371322
Publisher: Square Fish
Published: 2007-08-20T23:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER

17

Mrs. Roth was sitting on the front stoop in a bright patch of sun, with the newspaper draped over her lap. Hero trudged up the path toward her, still feeling numb. She sank onto the porch steps, burying her face in her hands. Mrs. Roth said nothing, just shifted slightly to make room for her. Hero sat in silence, listening to the stillness of the garden, the breeze stirring the flowers, the faint hum of insects, the crackle of the paper. The smell of the flowers was thick and sweet and overpowering. It cleared her head of everything else. She understood suddenly why someone might love a garden.

“Six letters, beginning with M,” Mrs. Roth said. “The clue is ’distinctly obvious.’”

Hero thought for a minute. “Don’t know.”

“Hmmm, I don’t either. What about four letters, ’crowd protest’?”

“Riot?” Hero suggested.

“Oh, yes, of course. That makes it m-blank-r-blank-blank-blank for the first one.”

Hero raised her head and looked at the grid, which was covered with Mrs. Roth’s neat print. “How about ’morbid’?”

“Well, it would fit, but it has nothing to do with the clue. Let’s see . . . aha! ’Marked.’”

“Oh, good.” Hero scanned the remaining blanks, trying to concentrate. They traded the pen back and forth for a while, filling in what they could. Eventually Mrs. Roth folded the newspaper and set it aside.

“It’s warm this afternoon,” she said idly. “I keep expecting the weather to turn cooler, but perhaps we’ll have summer for a bit longer.” She stood, stretching, and pulled open the front door. “Lemonade?”

“Sure,” Hero said. “That’d be great.” She hesitated, then called through the screen, “I’m . . . sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I don’t know why I was so mad.”

There was no response from inside. Hero waited nervously. Then Mrs. Roth returned with her tray, balancing the frosted glasses and the china plate of cinnamon toast. She rested it on the steps between them and sat down again, looking at Hero thoughtfully.

“I was surprised you were so angry,” she said finally. “But then I realized you were angry because you consider me your friend. You felt I had betrayed your trust.”

Hero looked away embarrassed. “I guess I just thought you would have told me about being married to Mr. Murphy. Something important like that. It changes things.”

Mrs. Roth sighed. “That’s why I didn’t tell you. Because it would have changed the story for you. It would have made you question my friendship with Eleanor, just as the police did.” She rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes. “It’s strange, isn’t it? One small bit of information—a private relationship, something that happened a long time ago—and the whole story seems different. But why should that one fact be more important than anything else? Why should it make all the rest suspect?”

Hero shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just hard to believe. People don’t usually become best friends with their ex-husband’s new wife. How did that happen?”

Mrs. Roth sipped her lemonade. After a minute, she spoke.



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