In Chap­ter 93 of “We Solve Mur­ders,” Rosie ini­tial­ly thinks the knock at her hotel door is from a room ser­vice boy after she had flirt­ed with him ear­li­er. How­ev­er, she soon real­izes she has entered a dan­ger­ous world where knocks could mean the pres­ence of an assas­sin. When Eddie Flood enters, Rosie feels com­pelled to engage him, hop­ing to talk her way out of a per­ilous sit­u­a­tion.

Eddie’s demeanor is apolo­getic as he states he want­ed to be pre­pared before meet­ing her. How­ev­er, the ten­sion esca­lates when he begins to reach for a gun in his bag, lead­ing Rosie to ques­tion if her time is up. She brave­ly con­fronts him, ask­ing, “Who hired you to kill me?” To her sur­prise, Eddie seems per­plexed, deny­ing he is a hit­man while sheep­ish­ly admit­ting he has tak­en mon­ey from Rob Ken­na, who Rosie believes is con­nect­ed to a pre­vi­ous attack on her friend Amy.

Their con­ver­sa­tion reveals Eddie’s ambigu­ous sta­tus; he admits to hav­ing killed in the past, albeit with a sense of jus­ti­fi­ca­tion, claim­ing he “used to” oper­ate in that capac­i­ty. Despite this, he insists he has a gen­uine rea­son for track­ing her, which Rosie ini­tial­ly sus­pects to be a case of unhealthy fan­dom.

Eddie then clar­i­fies that he is indeed not a hit­man or a crazed fan; he intro­duces him­self as a writer. He reveals that he has been work­ing on a book while trav­el­ing and hopes Rosie will read it. This unex­pect­ed rev­e­la­tion catch­es Rosie off guard, prompt­ing her to humor­ous­ly remark that it is “so much worse” than being threat­ened with vio­lence. The chap­ter nav­i­gates themes of dan­ger, mis­un­der­stand­ing, and the unex­pect­ed turns of per­son­al aspi­ra­tions amid per­ilous cir­cum­stances.

In Chap­ter 93 of “All the Col­ors of the Dark,” the scene unfolds with Franklin Mey­er hand­ing Patch a heavy crys­tal glass of brandy before lead­ing him out­side to a stone ter­race. The serene evening finds a gar­den­er at work, a wood­en path mean­der­ing through trees, and a dis­tant foun­tain, while the fra­grance of laven­der fills the air, as lanterns begin to flick­er with the set­ting sun.

Set­tling at a smoked glass table, Franklin notes the occa­sion of the evening while Patch, dressed in a navy suit bor­rowed from Sam­my, awaits the senior prom of Misty, Franklin’s daugh­ter. A pho­tog­ra­ph­er is poised near­by, ready to cap­ture the beau­ty of the night. Franklin rem­i­nisces about Misty’s new boyfriend, evok­ing images of the char­ac­ters from “Grease” that Patch has become over­ly famil­iar with, thanks to Misty’s enthu­si­as­tic singing.

The con­ver­sa­tion shifts to Patch’s work at Bell Lewis, where he endures the phys­i­cal chal­lenge of his long shifts, leav­ing him exhaust­ed. Franklin express­es a wist­ful pride for his daugh­ter, reveal­ing that Misty is every­thing to him, espe­cial­ly as he reflects on their wish for anoth­er child that nev­er came to be. The impend­ing change as Misty pre­pares for Har­vard looms over their dis­cus­sion, elic­it­ing feel­ings of oblig­a­tion and emo­tion­al con­flict.

Patch per­ceives the depth of their bond, yet real­izes the inevitable move toward sep­a­ra­tion that awaits them. Franklin brings up the notion of nur­tur­ing their chil­dren to aspire for more in life, rather than repeat­ing past mis­takes. He empha­sizes that he hopes for Misty to learn from their monied cir­cum­stances with­out being encum­bered by them. Patch qui­et­ly acknowl­edges this sen­ti­ment and vows to talk to Misty, even as Franklin doubts whether words will suf­fice at this point.

As the day tran­si­tions into night, Misty descends the grand stair­case, adorned in a yel­low gown match­ing her hair­band. The moment is mag­i­cal, Patch trans­fixed by Misty’s beau­ty and her radi­ant smile. With her par­ents present, she affec­tion­ate­ly com­pli­ments him, under­scor­ing the unique­ness of their love—intense and unde­ni­able, despite the dis­par­i­ties they face. In this del­i­cate inter­play of emo­tions and the evening’s atmos­phere, their rela­tion­ship crys­tal­lizes as some­thing pro­found­ly beau­ti­ful, per­haps unsus­tain­able, yet whol­ly cher­ished.