What You Left Behind by Samantha Hayes Page B

laughed, still holding on to his brother’s shoulders.
    He certainly seemed pleasant and caring toward his brother, Lorraine thought, but she wanted to get on with her evening now that the two parties had acknowledged each other. Just for an hour or two she’d like to put aside her worries about Freddie and Jo, enjoy a couple of glasses of cider and a good meal. She was starving.
    “Are you here to find out who killed Dean?” Gil said earnestly. “He was my friend but he’s dead and so she’s my friend now aren’t you?” He pointed directly at Stella with a jabbing finger.
    Stella slid down in her seat and squeezed her mother’s hand again, her eyes wide with embarrassment and something else. Fear, Lorraine thought, giving her a smile that only she would notice.
    “Come on, Gil,” Tony said, trying to guide him away.
    But Gil was a big man and remained in his place.
    “Why do you ask that, Gil?” Lorraine said, curious.
    “Dean was my friend,” Gil repeated, rocking from one foot to the other. “He’s dead now but he didn’t mean to be.” He stared straight ahead, his hands scratching inside his pockets.
    “Gil hasn’t quite got over the shock of what happened to Dean,” Tony explained sympathetically. “Sonia often takes him to New Hope when she works there. That’s how they met. You two were always hatching crazy plans, weren’t you? What was it last time—aroad trip across America on a Harley?” He laughed, but then his face became somber, his eyes heavy.
    Lorraine wondered if he’d been reminded of his own son.
    But Gil was nodding, beaming a smile that made his cheeks apple-like. His arm lifted slowly and pointed at the wall opposite. The pub was an eclectic mix of low beams, mismatched pine furniture, and half-paneled walls painted in various muted shades of gray and mushroom and covered with a large collection of framed cartoons and posters. Gil was jabbing his finger at a pen-and-ink drawing opposite.
    “Well spotted,” Tony said, trying to steer him away again. “You wouldn’t get far on that motorbike, though.”
    Lorraine looked at the framed cartoon. A caveman was riding a motorbike made of stone and there was a dinosaur in the sidecar beside him. The bike’s wheels were square and also chiseled out of stone.
    “That man in the picture isn’t wearing a helmet and he could die like Dean.” Gil was frowning, showing off the deep furrows between his eyes and heavy brows. “The other person on Dean’s bike was wearing a helmet. Why didn’t Dean have one?”
    He was looking at Lorraine.
    Lorraine felt herself tense. Was he expecting her to provide an answer?
    “Don’t worry. I’ll talk it over with him later.” This time Tony was firm with his brother, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other gripping his elbow. “Good night, ladies,” he said. “Enjoy your meal.”
    “Good night ladies,” Gil kept repeating as he was led away.
    “He’s well-meaning,” Jo said. “Quite a character in the village. Everyone’s very fond of him. We all watch out for him as he likes to wander from home and sometimes forgets his way back.”
    “Autism?”
    Jo nodded. “And other complications at birth, apparently.” Shestared into her glass, swirling it, clinking the ice cubes. “OK, I’m ready to order. Fish and chips for me.”
    “I wonder what Gil meant by ‘the other person on Dean’s bike’?” Lorraine said. “If he killed himself, surely he would have been alone?” She sighed, feeling the beginnings of her mind forming a mental map of what she knew so far. She couldn’t help it.
    “The police said it was suicide,” Jo reiterated matter-of-factly. When Stella tipped the last of the chips into her mouth, she mouthed, They found a note .
    Lorraine’s curiosity was still not sated. “Gil said the other person on Dean’s bike was wearing a helmet. I want to know what he meant by that. And anyone planning a road trip across America on a Harley doesn’t sound very