“What else did you expect us to do with the stiff in your playhouse?” Emmylou said.
I dropped into a chair, stunned my suspicions were true. If Emmylou and Oat Willimena incinerated Connor, that meant his body was ash, could never be recuperated or found, or tied to me in any way. I tried to let all that meant for me and for Miranda to sink in. No more waiting for the other shoe to drop. When I could finally speak, I said, “You two did that for me?”
But Emmylou wasn’t ready to get sentimental. Instead she’d started unwrapping the clear cellophane from the stems of the Gerbera daisies. “Let me get settled,” she said, “and I’ll tell you all about it.”
She put the flowers into a pink conical vase and poured us each a cup of tea that smelled like lavender soap. Then she began. That fatefulTuesday, she’d been babysitting my kids when she heard a ruckus in the backyard. She’d snuck a peek out my back window to see me and Layna shoving something large into the playhouse. She’d waited until we’d left for Barbarian Brewing to investigate, knowing the fresh snow would cover her tracks.
“I wanted to help but couldn’t figure out how,” Emmylou said. “The kiln was Oat Willimena’s ingenious idea.”
“I can’t believe you told Oat Willimena!” I said. “No offense to you, Oat Dub. But Emmylou barely knew you!”
Oat Willimena held up juice-stained palms. “I’d never narc. Besides, when I saw the stiff’s white-power neck tattoo, I was happy to help.”
My instinct was to say I’d had things under control all along, that I didn’t need their help. But it wasn’t true. I hadn’t had anything under control. Not for a long time.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Besides, it’s not spilling a secret if you tell your significant other,” Emmylou said. “I just put it in the couple’s vault!”
“Significant other! Couple’s vault! How many dates have you two even been on?” I said.
“When you’re seventy-four years old and finally find someone who knows how to give you a cervical orgasm, you aren’t afraid to move fast,” Emmylou said.
“TMI!” I yelled, plugging my ears. “Happy for you, but don’t need the details.”
“Fine!” Emmylou said, pretending to zip her lips and toss the key.
“The burnt raccoon penis bone?” I asked.
“I scorched it over the gas stove burner myself,” Oat Willimena said, waving her wooden tamper over an imaginary flame. “For authenticity.”
“A genius criminal mind with an impressive attention to detail,” Emmylou said, gazing adoringly at Oat Willimena. It was great to see her looking so happy. “Is it safe to say those guys trying to kidnap you were the stiff’s colleagues?”
“Pretty much,” I said. “You were amazing, by the way. What a shot!”
“Pshaw!” she said. “I couldn’t even get my bow reloaded.”
“Are you kidding? You literally saved me from being brutally murdered,” I said.
“Well, I stashed the crossbow in my trunk, just in case there was trouble at the festival. I’ve been worried about you ever since I discovered the stiff.” Emmylou paused. “The guy I shot. Is he...?”
“Alive?” I said. “Yeah, he’s alive.”
Emmylou hooted with relief.
“Also, just so you know, I didn’t tell the ATF I saw you.”
“Thanks, toots,” Emmylou said. “I bet nobody else saw me either. This gray hair is my cloak of invisibility. Now can you tell us how you ended up with a stiff in the first place?”
“It would involve incriminating friends,” I said. “But he was up to the sort of thing you might imagine.”
“The kind of thing Susan Sarandon shot that guy for,” Oat Willimena said.
Emmylou and I looked at her blankly.
“You know, inThelma & Louise,” Oat Willimena said.
“Oh,” I replied. “Yes. Well, not exactly. But close enough.”
