“Then why would I do it?”
Theo swiveled her chair around until she faced me again. “Hello? Do you want to solve this murder or not?”
“Um, the whole detective agency thing is fake, remember?”
“So, you’re okay with Mr. Nagy rotting in jail?” Disapproval hardened her voice and her eyes.
“I didn’t say that!” I protested. “And of course I’m not. He’s the nicest man I know.”
“Exactly.” Theo yanked open the door. “Remember, every little detail.”
With those parting words, she was gone.
Chapter
Nine
For the record, I didn’t follow Theo’s instructions, because I’m an independent woman, one who doesn’t take orders from kids, preteens, or teenagers.
At least, I didn’t do it right away. It could wait until that evening.
Until then, I planned to focus solely on my niece.
After walking Livy home, I set her up at the kitchen table with a snack of celery sticks and peanut butter while I helped her practice math. She didn’t have any actual homework, but we’d started a routine back in the spring, doing math together once or twice a week. Sometimes I printed out worksheets from the Internet, and other times we played math-related games on my laptop. I tried my best to make each session fun and engaging. The whole point was to prevent Livy from developing negative associations with math like the ones I’d battled back in school. Ones I still battled, actually. The mere thought of having to do anything beyond basic addition and subtraction on the spot always triggered a wave of near panic, thanks mostly to an unfortunate experience in fifth grade when my teacher, Mrs. Klein, had berated me in front of the class for not knowing my times tables as well as she thought I should have.
My brother, Ethan, however, had loved math, and that was partof my motivation as well. I knew he’d want his daughter to succeed at the subject, if not love it like he did. So far, my strategy seemed to be working. Math was one of Livy’s favorite subjects, right up there with art.
Today, though, she was struggling to stay focused on the addition maze we were working on. Then, when she got one of the equations wrong and found herself at a dead end in the maze, she burst into tears.
“Oh, Livysaurus,” I said with dismay, running a hand down her glossy hair. “What’s wrong, sweet girl?”
She climbed onto my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck, burying her face in my sweater.
Worry rushed in, like a quickly rising tide that threatened to surge up over my head. “Livy?”
She sniffled before speaking in a quiet voice. “Navneet told me she and her family are going out for dinner tonight because it’s her dad’s birthday.”
“Oh.” My heart sank.
“Daddy’s birthday is in a few days, but he’s not here. I wish he could come back from heaven.”
“I know, sweetie. I do too.” My words came out thick with emotion, and I fought against the tears burning in my eyes and the fierce grief in my chest.
Even though nearly a year had gone by since my brother’s death, I didn’t think a single day had passed that I hadn’t felt like crying at least once, but I rarely allowed the tears to fall. I feared that once I started crying, I wouldn’t be able to stop, and that wasn’t what Livy needed from me.
I would have done anything to make Livy’s wish come true. I would have traded my own life. But bringing Ethan back wasn’t something anyone could do, so I needed to find some sort of comfort for my niece.
Memories of childhood birthday parties—mine and Ethan’s—fluttered through my brain. Happy times. All in the past.
“Tell you what,” I said as I stroked Livy’s hair. “Why don’t you and I bake your dad a cake on his birthday?”
“Can it be chocolate?” she asked in a tiny voice. “That’s what he liked best.”
“ ‘Any cake that isn’t chocolate is a wasted cake,’ ” I quoted, having heard my brother say that many times over the years.
“I like other flavors too.” Livy looked up at me, her eyes shimmering with tears. Blue eyes, so similar to Ethan’s. “But chocolate’s the best.”
I kissed the top of her head. “I think so too. And, yes, we can bake him a chocolate cake.”
