All Fall Down by Carlene Thompson

that her father wanted to die. But Martin called Bernice and told her not to come that day, and he called here, asking if Rosalind and Robin were back yet. He sounded relieved when I said they wouldn’t be finished decorating the gym for at least another hour. Obviously he wanted to be alone that afternoon. He knew what he wanted to do.”
    And is that why he started that violent fight with me that afternoon? Blaine wondered. Did he know I’d never leave him alone otherwise? Did he know he could drive me from the house? Blaine felt chilled at this evidence of Martin’s deliberation, but she kept her voice steady. “I can understand Robin’s reluctance to believe her father wouldn’t want to die and leave her.”
    Joan frowned. “Under normal conditions, no, he would never have left his daughter. Or you, even if he was irrationally blaming you for the accident. That was temporary. I know you understand that.” Don’t be so sure, Blaine thought. “But what people like Bernice and Robin don’t realize is that the severely depressed person is not thinking rationally.”
    Do you believe Rosie was thinking rationally? Blaine wanted to ask, but couldn’t bring herself to. Asking Joan to analyze her dead niece was just too much.
    Joan dabbed at her eyes with a tissue she’d pulled from her sweater pocket, and Blaine asked instead, “Have you told your mother?”
    “Oh, yes. There’s no way to hide something like this. We said at first that Rosalind had gone on a trip. Mother was having one of her lucid moments and she didn’t believe it for a minute. She knew from the looks on my face and on Bernice’s that something was horribly wrong, so I decided to tell her the truth. She got hysterical. Thank God Bernice is here. She’s been keeping Mother sedated. Earlier today, though, she woke up and seemed to think it was my sister, Charlotte, who’d just died instead of Rosalind. Isn’t that amazing? Charlotte’s been gone for over sixteen years.”
    “Your mother is so sick, Joan, and this has been a terrible shock.”
    “I know. It’s just incredible to me the way the senile mind works. She can’t possibly go to the funeral.”
    Joan paled again at the word funeral , her eyes straying off, and Blaine asked quickly, “Is there anything I can do to help with the arrangements?”
    “No. Everything is already taken care of. Except for the exact day of the service, that is. Do you know they haven’t released Rosalind’s body?”
    Of course they were doing an autopsy, Blaine thought, but she wasn’t going to point out that gruesome fact to Joan, who had obviously blocked it from her usually sharp mind. “In the meantime, you will let me know if you need anything, won’t you?”
    Joan nodded. “I will, Blaine. And thank you for being such a good friend to Rosalind. She idolized you, you know.”
    Blaine was astonished. “ What? ”
    “Oh, yes. I’m sure she never said anything to you, but I know she did to Robin. And to me. She thought you were wonderful.”
    “Look, Joan, I know Rosie liked me, but idolized me? I don’t think so. Especially after this summer.”
    Joan shook her head. “She never believed you killed Martin, Blaine. She was adamant about it. Absolutely adamant.”
    Blaine glanced around the mahogany-paneled room with its marble fireplace and shelves full of leather-bound books, not wanting to ask the question ringing in her head, but unable to stop herself. “Is that when she and Robin drifted apart? When Rosie insisted she didn’t think I’d killed Martin?”
    Joan looked puzzled. “Well, dear, I don’t know. I do know they hadn’t been seeing as much of each other as usual, but whether or not it had anything to do with that…well, no, I’m sure it didn’t. You know how young girls are—always spatting, getting upset because they like the same boy, developing different interests. For heaven’s sake, you don’t think Robin believes you killed Martin, do you?”
    “No, no, of