Even In Darkness--An American Murder Mystery Thriller by Lynn Hightower

out, and when I put it back in the refrigerator, I find it warm to the touch. I wonder how long it has been sitting there. Has it gone bad – should I throw it away? As always, Marsha leaves these tiny messes behind. I throw the spoon across the kitchen and into the sink. The amount of noise it makes is absurd.
    â€˜Yes, yes, I’ll tell her. Thank you, Brice. I’ll wait for your call.’ Her tone is syrupy, like it always is when she talks to members of the board. I am her boss, but they cut the checks for her salary. Marsha rounds the corner, patting at her hair, which is still in place from the day before. She must use a lot of hairspray, and sleep very carefully in her bed.
    â€˜What on earth is all the noise in here, didn’t you see I was on the phone?’
    â€˜
You
,’ I say.
    Marsha’s mouth hangs open. She breathes heavily, chest rising and falling, and the pink drains out of her cheeks. ‘What in the hell is up with you?’
    I head out of the kitchen to the living room, and she follows me, calling my name over and over and asking me what’s wrong. I glance into the fake gilt mirror, then turn around, because I don’t like the look of my face. I stand with my back to the ugly faux cherry console, another example of Carl’s execrable taste.
    â€˜I spent over three hours with the FBI this morning.’
    Marsha is in her stooped-forward stance, which means she is thinking instead of posing. ‘But why are you mad at
me
? Look, you’re not angry that I gave them that handwriting sample, are you? They said it was just a formality, and I figured it would be OK. I thought it would get them off your back.’
    She chatters on and on about the sample, and how she knew I’d want her to cooperate so the authorities could bring Andee and Caro home safe. I wait for her to wind down, and eventually she is silent. She stares at me, unhappy, but she finally stops talking and is still.
    â€˜We covered a lot of ground this morning, Agent Woods, Agent Jones and myself. And Smitty was there, of course. Three straight hours of questions takes you everywhere. The here, the now and the past.’
    Marsha looks at me sideways, genuinely bewildered.
    â€˜They had Caroline’s diary. Agent Jones found it amusing to read it out loud. Just a couple of stupid pages where Caro oh-so-casually mentioned how hard it was on Joey to walk in on his father when he was cheating on his mother. Especially when the other woman was Cousin Marsha, and they were doing it on the living room couch.’
    Marsha’s mouth opens and closes, and she looks around the living room like she has dropped something tiny on the floor. She sits finally, on the edge of the couch, stands back up like she’s been burned, and moves to a chair.
    Her voice is oddly soft. ‘I thought you knew.’
    â€˜Why?
Why
would you think that?’
    She slides deeper into the chair as I cross the room and stand over her.
    â€˜Do you think I would have kept you around if I’d
known
about it? Do you think I’d still give you this
job
? I’d have drop kicked your butt to the curb, which is what I’m doing right this minute. Do you hear me, Marsha? Do you understand?’
    At this point, anyone within five square miles can hear me. She starts to get up, but I’m not through with her yet.
    â€˜Just answer me, Marsha. How could you think that I knew?’
    She takes a breath, and tears cascade down her cheeks. Her nose is starting to run. ‘Carl
told
me you knew. I didn’t believe him until you came to me about the money.’ She whispers so softly I have to lean closer to hear. ‘You remember, Joy. You came to me about the eleven thousand that was missing and asked me to cover it up.’
    â€˜Until I could pay it back.’
    â€˜Yes. Until you could make it up.’
    â€˜And I paid every last cent of it back, didn’t I, Marsha?’
    â€˜Of course