And what did I do? “Charlie, would you like cream in your coffee? How about another piece of pie? You look like you could use something more to eat.” I wouldn’t let him talk while he was finishing the leftover lasagna, garlic bread, and pie. This was every mother’s dream—someone who really appreciated a good meal. I didn’t think it necessary to tell Charlie that the lasagna was made by Mama Manicotti in a sterilized kitchen and that the pie was frozen before I popped it in my oven. He gulped down two cups of coffee as if he were freezing. As he let out a very satisfied belch and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, I realized this guy was probably not the brightest porch light on the block. I also knew he was innocent. My vibes were dormant; there were no errant physical sensations. And it made me mad that he felt he had to confess. This guy was as innocent of murdering Dr. Burns as I was. It was obvious that he was trying to protect his older sister, Gwen. I decided to try to get a little more information.
