Enter Riley

The bar I found was perfect, smoky and dark with a pool table in the
middle of the room. It was filled with men, not the rough, dirty kind
who hung out at Bunker's Dunkers, but the rough, dirty kind that turned
me on. Some shot pool, a few others threw darts, and the really drunk
or boring ones held down the bar. Joan Jett was on the juke box,
singing my favorite song. I was home. I smiled and quickened my pace as
I strolled into the room out of the hot August sun. I wore the same
outfit I'd worn the past week when I had gone to Bunkers to get drunk,
my leather mini skirt and a corset. Most of the eyes in the room were
on me as I sauntered up to the bar and sat down, praying that somebody
would buy me a beer, as I was dead broke and very thirsty. One of the
men at the pool table noticed me. Really noticed me. His eyes caught
mine, and our gaze held for a moment. He took a shot, sinking two, then
strolled over to me. His companions were displeased with his leaving
the game. He didn't seem to care. I smiled at him, and he perched on
the stool next to me. The man held up two fingers, and the bartender
slapped two bottles of imported beer on the cheap wood in front of
us.

"Thanks" I said

"Anytime" he replied, smiling. "My name's Riley, who're
you?" He had an unmistakable southern drawl. It was rough and sexy,
twangy. My guess was Louisiana, but I could have been wrong. But that
didn't matter, it was sexy all the same.

"I'm Shadow. Pleased to meet you" He chuckled as I looked
him over, deciding in one long glance that he would most definitely do
for what I was looking for. I crossed my legs, and his eyes left mine.
They meandered back up to mine, and, to show that I had noticed, I
winked. He winked back. I saw something pass through his eyes briefly
before he masked it.

"Can I take you home, where we can be alone?" I smiled and
nodded, appreciating his little joke. We finished our beers, then left,
leaving his pool buddies staring at us with dumbstruck looks on their
faces. Riley drove an old, red GTO. 1964, white leather interior,
flawless. No rust, no blood stains on the seats. He opened the door for
me and I climbed in.

Riley lived in an old brick building that was probably
older than Grant's mother, on the third floor. He led me three flights
up, his hand holding mine. Quickly he unlocked the four locks on the
door. He opened it and I kissed him hungrily.

Afterwards, I looked at him curiously. He had tan skin and
coffee-bean brown hair. His eyes were grey, and he had the body of a
cop. All the muscles perfectly toned, lying in wait until they were
needed. A tightly bound spring, he was, ready to act at any moment.
Unpredictable. Unreliable. Undesirable? Hell no. On his back he had a
tattoo of an eagle. A salamander graced his bicep. Curious.
/>

"What's her name?" I asked, responding to the strange look
that had crossed his eyes more than once in the hour since we had
met.

"Diamond" He mumbled, ashamed to have been caught.
/>

"Grant" I said. His eyes locked with mine, and we both
smiled, then laughed.

"Well, were just a pathetic couple, aren't we?" I
nodded

"So, what's your story?"

"Do I have to?" I nodded again "She's just?god, perfect.
She's the lead singer of a band, and they just left a week ago to go to
New York. She didn't invite me, nor did I ask if I was welcome to join.
She nearly died, some crazy fan had a knife, and I saved her life. I
thought she was something other than the cold hearted bitch she looked
like, but, hell, guess you should always judge a book by its cover,
huh?"

"Maybe she wants you to come down after her, as a gesture
of how you feel. Be her knight in shining armor."

"Last time I tried that she tried to shoot me."
/>

"Oh my lord, that certainly puts a new light on the
relationship."

"She was panicky, somebody had been stalking her, so her
band mates hired me. I showed up, and she had a gun. She was so close
to shooting me, I actually got worried. I thought that I might end up
going to the hospital. I hate hospitals. We ended up in bed an hour
later"

"What a story."

"What's yours?"

"Love at first sight, difficult man, ex-girlfriend with
fucking awesome boots?so on and so forth. You get it. I'm pretty sure
it's a country song somewhere"

"Probably." He paused for a moment "You alright?"
/>

"Better after I felt wanted. Thanks." We lay there quietly
for a moment, thinking. His ceiling was stained, and it looked like a
bit of plaster or asbestos could fall down on us at any moment. The
apartment was nothing fancy, and, really, it had most likely never been
anything even resembling something fancy. I could see out the window,
and I saw main street Ellisville. I could see a little shop that sold
tie-dyed things and lava lamps. There was a flag with a mythological
wizard on it hanging in the door. What a town.

"Your welcome" He whispered after a long pause. I looked
over at him and saw something I had never seen in a man, other than
grandpere, of course. His eyes, you looked into them and knew that you
could trust this man with anything, that he would do whatever he could
for you, no matter what. But hiding behind that was something
dangerous. And I knew that he was not a gentle lamb. He would kill, and
probably had before. I had seen that look before. But it didn't matter
in Riley's eyes. The trust was there. He would only kill if he needed
to. He was a good man. I cursed myself that both our hearts already
belonged elsewhere.

"This may sound corny or trite, but he's an idiot if he
doesn't want you"

"You're right. That does sound corny, and I'm not sure what
trite means. But I agree. And, for the record, I think Diamond is
foolish too"

"Thanks"

"So what kind of work you do? You said they hired
you?"

"Riley Brown, crime author extraordinaire" we shook
hands.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Brown"

"Pleased to meet you, too, Miss?uh, Shadow"
/>

"It's Fontaine, in case you're interested"
/>

"Miss Shadow Fontaine. Nice ring to it."

He smiled at me, and I smiled back. He got up and turned on
the radio. "Blurry" was playing, the last few notes. Then a very
familiar song came on. Immediately I began to panic. It had been nearly
two weeks, and I still couldn't hear it. And it seemed to play every
time I listened to the radio. The thought that I was going crazy only
briefly flitted through my mind. I turned so Riley couldn't see the
look on my face. I bit my lip to keep from crying, and squeezed my eyes
shut.

"Let's dance" he said. Suddenly, I was back in the bar, and
a man dressed in motorcycle gear came up to me and said "Lets dance". I
took his rough hand and he led me out onto the floor, his green eyes
smoldering. We danced quite indecently to the music, both of us drunk
as skunks. The lights were down so low I cold barely see anything but
his eyes, and I could barely stand without his support. I smiled and
giggled happily. Shadow was getting laid tonight. It made me laugh out
loud, and, at the song's finale, biker guy spun me into a low dip that
almost made me lose my supper. Then we left. I climbed on the back of
his bike, to drunk to realize that he was too drunk to drive anything
but a Tonka truck. After a blurry ride, we made it, checked in, and
raced each other upstairs, tripping over invisible objects. We burst
into the room; his wind burnt lips on mine, and collapsed onto the bed,
barely missing the floor. He was shaking me, my shoulder, trying to
wake me. I slowly opened my eyes, remembering what happened after I
awoke. I stared up into Riley's face and screamed. He had eyes just
like the man in the tub. He was alive! He was trying to get me for not
saving him, for being passed out when his death came a knocking. I
screamed and jumped away. He fell on the bed. I caught a glimpse of his
neck, then snapped out of it. Riley. Pool bar. Grant. I fell back on
the bed and curled into a ball, the tears streaming down my face. He
pulled me into his arms and held me, rocked me gently until I felt
better. I looked up at him and kissed him lightly on the cheek. I was
tired. I closed my eyes and slept.

The next morning I awoke to the smell of Riley's shampoo
and soap wafting out of the bathroom. He walked into the room a moment
later, wearing a pair of ratty jeans and no shirt. He smiled at me and
tossed me a tee-shirt, as I was not particularly positive where my
clothes had ended up. I put in on. The bed dipped as he sat next to me.
He came over to me and sat next to me on the bed. He wrapped me up in a
hug and asked

"What happened?" I told him everything.

We sat in silence for a long time after I was done telling
my tale of lust, murder and love. He still held me in his arms, and it
felt nice. I closed my eyes and let the tears fall.

"I'm glad you told me darlin'" Riley whispered, breaking
the silence.

"Why?" I asked, confused.

"Because now I can help. Nobody should have to live with
what you do. I want to help you. I feel?obligated to help."
/>

"How can you help?"

"It's what I used to do for a living sweetheart"
/>

"You used to be a cop?" I turned to face him, my eyes
wide.

"No, no?far from it. I used to be a private investigator,
but I sort of got my license taken away. The state didn't exactly agree
with my methods. Apparently, they don't see b&;e as a viable way of
solving a case" I laughed.

"So you really want to help me?"

"Of course."

"Thank you" I whispered, and kissed him on the cheek. "Do
you mind if I grab a shower quick?"

"Go right ahead. Clean towels are on the shelf"
/>

Riley had thawed a batch of what he called his "World
Famous" Gumbo. I doubted very much that any more than five people had
ever even tasted it. One spoonful told me that it deserved its name.
The flavors were perfectly blended; it was a culinary masterpiece, even
though it was most likely made of various leftovers thrown into a stew
pot overnight. That's the way cooking should be.

"So, you have any ideas?"

"About what?" I mumbled, my mouth full of the thick
stew.

"Who dunnit. Ain't that always the question?" I smiled,
then laughed behind my hand.

"Yep. But I have no ideas. It could be anybody."
/>

"Anybody. Well, that narrows it down a bit"
/>

"I know. I highly doubt it was you, though. Or Grant"
/>

"That helps. Do you, for any reason whatsoever, have any
enemies?"

"Um?they're all?um?they have real good alibis. They're all
kinda, sorta, a little itty bit?um?dead"

"Only a itty bit?" he asked, laughing. It wasn't funny, and
I told him so. "Sorry" he muttered "So, no enemies that you know of. Do
you know who he was?"

"I feel like I'm being interrogated"

"That's 'cause you are"

"Oh"

"Who was he?"

"Who?

"The biker guy"

"Oh. I don't know. I just met him and danced with him the
once. We didn't talk a lot. He had a Harley though."

"What did he look like? Narrow it down a bit"
/>

"Um, light brown hair, maybe a goatee, I think he had
tannish skin. And he did have brilliant green eyes. That what I
remember the most"

"What was his build like?"

"Tall, muscular, but not as much so as you. And he didn't
have any tattoos."

"Well, you've eliminated some. But not a lot."
/>

"I'm pretty sure he had a southern accent. But maybe he was
just slurring funny. I don't know. I wasn't exactly in my right mind at
the time." I looked at him for a second as he ate his gumbo. He was a
very interesting person to watch. "You know, you don't have to help me.
I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself."

"That's what they always say"

"And they usually mean it"

"But they're never right" We stared intently at each other
for a moment. He ate some gumbo, so did I. "Where are you staying?" he
asked me after a few minutes. I looked away, so he couldn't see my
eyes. I was not a charity case.

"I have a hotel room back in Alora. If you'd give me a ride
back to my car, I can get out of your hair."

"I don't believe you"

"I really will leave you alone"

"No, not that. You don't have a motel room. You didn't even
look at me while you lied to me. If you need someplace to stay, you can
stay here."

"Thanks, but I really will be fine."
Riley drove me to my car where I had left it a half an hour later. The
day was warm and balmy, a cool sea breeze blowing in and cooling the
air every little bit. It was late afternoon already, and it just had
that feel that all summer time late afternoons do, and it's
indescribable. We stood outside in the air chatting for a bit, not
really, truly wanting to leave each other.

"You know where to find me if you need a place to stay or
want my help"

"I'm fine, but thank you. It's nice to have a friend" I
hugged him and climbed into my truck as he climbed into his GTO. We
each drove away in opposite directions.

I drove around for a bit, cursing myself for wasting the
gas, but not really having anyplace to settle. Finally, I stopped and
went into the mini mall and sat on a bench for a bit. Then I drove some
more, twisting and winding up and down the roads and avenues, little
shady lanes, long and straight streets. I thought about Grant, and how
I missed him, how I hated him for taking back up with Terri, but how I
still loved him. Then the images of the man in the tub, Myrna and Neila
came back to me, and I fought back tears, as always. This was no way to
live, always thinking about them, having to fight to keep control when
I slipped up and thought about them anyway. I had to do something. I
had to find out who killed them. There was no way around it. I simply
could not live my life if I didn't find out who it was. The news came
on the radio, and I turned it up, listening for any news on the
murders, if they even felt them to be worth reporting on. The lobster
festival was still on for the next weekend, even though it was
suspected that the hurricane remnants would blow through then. Mr.
Daxton, an oil tycoon, was back in Grindstone, and was throwing a gala
at the yacht club in Alora to benefit his newest charity. Perhaps I
would go, to try and figure out who dunnit. No news on the murder. I
needed a plan. I would call the motel we had spent the evening at that
night, and try to figure out what name he had registered under. I would
ask people in Alora if they had seen any strangers about. Perhaps I
could even get some information out of the police, and then I could
begin physically searching, following him around the country if need
be. I didn't care about the police finding me anymore, I would just
draw from my bank account my mother left me, and I would be fine
wherever I went. They would never find me. Then I realized, I didn't
even know how to begin to get lost like that. I would need help. That's
when I found myself back at Riley's apartment.

His car wasn't in the lot that I could see; probably he was
out partying and having a grand time, having forgotten all about his
promises to help me. I parked in an empty space and stared at the
building, willing him to show up and to still want to help. Some good
that would do, but it did make me feel slightly better. I played the
radio, listening to a gospel station hoping to redeem my soul or
something. It was soothing, nonetheless, even if I still was a sinner
by the time the thunderstorm rolled in and reception was lost. I hugged
my knees and stopped thinking about the state of my soul or Riley. I
even stopped thinking about the murders and Grant, not an easy task.

I awoke to the sun shining on my face and a dead arm. While
I waited for the feeling to come back into it so I could actually
drive, I thought about where I should drive to. In the end, I decided
not to drive, and just to go knock on Riley's door to see if he really
was serious about me staying with him. The thunderstorm may have had a
tiny bit to do with that.

The stairs up to his apartment were concrete and cracked,
making my heels stick in and wobble as I walked up them. Of course, the
lightbulb had burned out in the hall, the only light being the shaft of
light from the window at the top of the landing. It looked as though I
were in a gritty police movie, full of partners disagreeing about
motives, coffee runs, and blood. Hell, the stairwell looked like my
life. The walls, though the wallpaper was a rather pretty floral print,
were ugly and stained with many things, including an interesting
arching flow that defiantly was not spilt juice. Brackets to hold on
the railing were still in place, but the railing was long gone,
probably carted off to the police station to be used as evidence and
never brought back. Damn those police, I thought as I stumbled with
nothing to grab onto except for the hope that I wouldn't fall to hard
or far.

My knees landed on the step ahead of me with a slight
cracking sound, and my hands on the next step.

"Fucking stairs." I muttered "Fucking cops. Fucking life."
My palms stung along with my knees, and I sat on the stairs with silent
tears running down my cheeks, wondering when it would get better, or if
I should be savoring the moment because there was much more of this yet
to come.

Residents looked at me oddly as they walked up the stairs,
but not one of them asked me what was the matter, or offered help, even
a smile. Just a blank gaze or a glare. One woman even picked up her
child as she saw me, looking rather alarmed. I didn't look that bad,
did I? I didn't, couldn't, look like a druggie or a washed up hooker.
Yes I could. I was wearing one of Riley's tee-shirts without a bra and
my skirt was safety-pinned on. I had to do something. There was no way
I could live the rest of my life in this stairwell. Or in my car. I
thought I had decided to do something yesterday, was it yesterday? I
was losing track of time, and that is never a good thing. Yes, I had
decided that I had to do something, until my enthusiasm left me. I
buried my face in my hands and began counting the seconds until I got
to die.

"Uh, Shadow?"

"Huh?" I looked up. Riley. Go figure. But hey, maybe he had
a gun or something for me to play with.

"My neighbor called me and asked me to come down and check
out the druggie in the hall, make sure she wasn't dangerous."
/>

"Do you have a gun?"

"Why?"

"I wanna see it"

"No"

"What the fuck do you mean, 'no'? Give me your goddamn
gun!"

"Maybe you should come up to my apartment. You don't look
well."

"And then you'll let me see your gun?"

"We'll think about it. Come on" He held out his hand and I
took it, struggling to get up off my feet. I staggered up a few steps,
then nearly fell again.

"I don't think I've eaten since I left here?um?whenever
that was." He looked at me through weary eyes. Then he picked me up and
carried me the rest of the way. "I CAN walk, you know!"
/>

"Humor me Shadow." So I snuggled into his shoulder. So I
was weak. Like I really gave a shit.

He set me down on his sofa bed, then went into the kitchen
and did something. My stomach growled. I rolled onto my back and
crossed my arms over my unhappy tummy, hoping to make the feeling go
away.

"What are you making in there, Emeril?"

"Toast and chicken noodle soup."

"Oh yum"

"You're not really in the position to complain. You're the
one who forgot to eat." He said as he brought me out a plate and a bowl
on a tray. He set it down on the bed and handed me the spoon.
/>

"I didn't forget to eat, I'm not that incompetent. I didn't
have the fucking money to eat, ok?"

"Shadow?"

"What? You're sick of having to take care of me? Sick of
having to look at me? Wait, you wish you'd never met me, right?"
/>

"Where are you getting this from?"

"I don't suppose you'd let me see your gun now, would
you?"

"NO! Shadow, what the fuck is the matter with you? You
don't want to kill yourself, and I don't hate you. I want to be your
friend, and you are not inconveniencing me. Eat your soup, get some
sleep, and then we'll talk some more. Please?" He looked at me, and I
hugged him, fighting back my tears.

"Ok. Thank you." And then I finished my soup, and Riley
tucked me in, then laid down next to me, wrapping his arms protectively
around my midsection.

When I awoke in the middle of the night, Riley had rolled
over onto his back, leaving me free to get up without disturbing him. I
tiptoed into the kitchen and looked out the window over his sink. He
had a view of the mouth of the river, leading into a muddy bay in a
swirl of cloudy and clear water. The moon shone over the water, the
reflection catching in the small ripples like flecks of confetti on a
navy blue tablecloth. The forest on the other side of the bay was
partially illuminated; the pine trees an imposing figure on the bank of
granite. There were no boats in the bay, nor any docks or anything else
to suggest the area was used for anything. Other than the occasional
dumping of a body.

My stomach growled again, so I crossed the room to look in
his avocado green refrigerator. I found nothing but a couple of ominous
tin-foil wrapped food items and a bottle of beer. I helped myself to
the beer. The cupboards were much better. I had found his gun, and his
ammo in the next one. I took both and sat down at the table,
periodically sipping at the beer until it was gone. I loaded the gun
and set it down in front of me. It lay there inert for a long time
while I stared at it, contemplating. It was a Ruger, and it was pretty,
a revolver, six shot. That was really all I could tell, mostly because
I don't know a lot about guns.

"Darlin', what are you doing?"

"Your gun is really pretty" Riley crossed the room in three
strides and took the gun from me, setting it on the counter behind
him.

"Why are you up? You need to sleep."

"I feel like being, up, ok? I was hungry, and I was looking
at the moon over the water. Is that acceptable, mother?"
/>

"Darlin', I'm just trying to make sure you don't do
anything stupid."

"You know what's really stupid?"

"What's really stupid?"

"I sort of want you to pick me up and carry me back to bed,
and then help me to forget about everything again."

"That is really stupid" Riley said, stepping closer to me.
I stood up. "But I'll allow it this time." I love being stupid.
/>

"I want to go to Alora" I said the next morning when Riley
awoke. I was standing at the foot of the bed, dressed as best as I
could be, waiting for him. I had his keys in my hand, and was jingling
them as he sat up. "Come on. I want to go now."

"Alright, alright." He mumbled as he put on a pair of
pants. He grabbed a shirt as we walked out of the door.
/>

"Really?" I asked, raising my eyebrow. I had expected
another argument, leading to another session of Riley loving. I
supposed that that is what I really wanted, but I wasn't going to tell
him that. I should go back to Alora though, make sure Grant's mother
knew I wasn't dead. It wouldn't do to worry her.

"Yes, I will take you to Alora. I want to talk to a couple
of people there, anyway, and they will probably respond to me better if
I'm with somebody they know. Like you."

"Thanks, Riley, you're great."

"That's what they always tell me"

"So modest"

"Oh well"

Alora is one of those towns that you don't know you've
driven into it for about five miles, because that's how much blank land
there is. It takes nearly ten minutes to get to something that looks
like a town, and by then, you are right on the ocean so your thoughts
have strayed from the fact that you're in a town to the fact that
you're on the ocean. The first town buildings that you see are the old
Navy houses, a cute little neighborhood of tiny blue homes built on a
little hill. Then you see, on the left side of the street, a huge,
fancy restaurant that belongs in a much larger town, and, right across
the street on your right is a smaller, quainter fancy restaurant and a
very old looking gas station, with one pump and a smiley face on the
big propane tank next to the building. Continuing to the right as you
turn at the intersection is a grocery store and a post office, then
private homes with a church and a tiny art shop, along with the
historical society. Then, right before you reach the Five and Ten and
the caf?, you turn left onto a road that leads you down a hill to one
of the two harbors in the town, and a little dirt driveway that leads
out onto the point, until the end, where it fades into Grant's mother's
front lawn.
She must have heard the car on the gravel, as she was standing on her
little porch as I stepped out of the car. She was eyeing Riley with
great interest.

"Well hello dear!" She exclaimed, and we met each other on
the stairs with a big hug. "And who is your gentleman friend?"
/>

"Riley Brown, ma'am" He replied with all his charm, and as
she offered her hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it.
/>

"You must be from down South. I can tell, you're too
polite, and you talk too slow. Now come on in, I've got a nice fish
chowder on the stove. And fresh blueberry muffins with cinnamon sugar
on top."

"Mrs. Bunker?" I began as she opened the screen door for
us.

"Haven't I told you to call me mama?"

"Well yes, but?"

"You can call me mama too, Riley Brown"

"Yes mama"

"See dear, he's learnt already"

"Yes mama"

We were sitting at her dining room table minutes later,
filling ourselves with her delicious fish chowder, with, of course,
fresh caught fish from Bud and Todd, and fresh blueberry muffins made
from blueberries fresh picked by Grant's Mother herself. And we both
had big glasses of milk, too, from, of course, Tracy's brother-in-law's
girlfriend's brother's cows. All in all, it was really very tasty.

"I've never had this before" Riley whispered to me.
/>

"What was that Riley Brown?" Grant's mother called from the
kitchen. She looked around the doorjamb from her place in front of the
stove as she said this.

"I said I've never had this before"

"Which, the chowder or the muffins?"

"Both."

"Well, now, you just stay there and I'll fix you up some
more. It's good, ain't it? Much better than that oprah stuff people
down there eat."

"You mean okra, mama?" I asked.

"Yeah, probably. Now eat, eat, Shadow, dear, that tee-shirt
is hanging off of you."

"Yes mama"

"This is actually pretty good" Riley said to me after
Grant's mother had gone back into the kitchen. "Very filling"
/>

"That it is"

"Eat up you two!" Grant's mother called from the kitchen
"But don't forget to save room for blueberry pie!"

"Yes, mama" We chorused.

"Ah, now that's nice" She said, and we went back to our
eating.

An hour or so later, we were ushered into the living room,
which really was a part of the dining room, from the porch where we had
been sitting watching the ocean, by Grant's mother, who insisted that
we watch him be interviewed by the big city reporters on the Bangor
News Channel. Never did she say why he was being interviewed. They were
on the dock, right about 500 feet from the house, with Grant's boat
anchored neatly in the backdrop, with the eagle's nest in an old dead
tree in the center of the composition. The interviewer was wearing a
navy blue suit with a notched collar, and way too much gold eye shadow,
but otherwise would have looked fine, had Grant not been wearing his
working clothes of course. His overalls probably reeked of lobster
bait, which means dead fish, not to mention the fact that he was grimy
from his long day out at sea. But if any of this bothered Tiffani, the
interviewer, she never let it show as she asked him question after
question, silly things like,

"How have the murder's in this quaint little town affected
your business, local or otherwise?" or "Now you knew all of the local
victims. Does that make you feel unsafe?," to which he answered,
/>

"Of course not. The way I figger it, anybody tries a slit
MY throat when I'm in the shower, he's good as dead anyway. I've got
guns. I've got knives. Probably bigger than his. So he best watch his
step around me."

"Now sir, that sounds rather violent. Do you think, as a
citizen, not an officer of the law, that there would be a non-violent
way to end this?"

"After killin' all those folks? 'Course not. He'll be lucky
if the cops catch him before one of us does."

"Well thank you, Mr. Bunker. From Alora, Maine, back to you
Freddy, at the news desk"

"Oh, he should have mentioned Don's idea. I can't believe
he didn't mention Don's idea" Grant's mother sputtered.
/>

"What was Don's idea?" asked Riley.

"Keelhauling"

"Oh" He looked at me, "Probably it would be
effective."

"Sure as hell would. That's why he should have mentioned
it. Now, you wait just a minute, the chicken is almost done" Grant's
mother murmured as she left and went into the kitchen.