“I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to happen, but an innocent man is about to be arrested.”
“Maybe he’s not so innocent,” she snapped.
“You and I both know that’s not true,” I said. Then, deciding to take a chance, I said, “We both know who killed her.”
She was silent for a moment. “What do you know?”
Oh. Crap. “I know Paul helped dispose of her car.”
“You can’t prove that,” she said.
Wait. Was Mitzi the killer? What if I’d gotten it wrong, and Paul had helped her dispose of the body rather than the other way around?
“How’d you come up with Tulsa?” I asked. “She never told anyone she was going there. Did you drive all the way there to mail that postcard to Hilde?”
“What are you talkin’ about?” she asked. Then she gasped. “You think I killed her?”
“If you didn’t, how’d you know about Tulsa?”
“Abby told me.”
“How did she know? She wasn’t even here at the time.”
“I don’t know. Probably on a phone call. I know Abby was really stressed about money at the time and didn’t come back home much.”
“Did Paul take a trip to Tulsa around the time Heather disappeared?” We’d already asked his ex-wife, but it seemed worthwhile asking Mitzi too.
“I don’t know. I didn’t even know him then, but I don’t think he’s ever been to Oklahoma.”
If Paul hadn’t mailed it, then it must have been done by his female accomplice.
Oh. God. Only one other person had known about Tulsa.
“I didn’t kill her. I swear,” she said, starting to cry. “The only thing I’m guilty of is calling the sheriff about Wyatt. I felt terrible about doin’ it, but Heather convinced me that I might be savin’ someone’s life. Only the more I think about it…he was so drunk I suspect she drove him to the state park and then told the officer he’d been drivin’.”
So she really had set him up.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, starting to sob. “But Paul’s on the warpath and out for blood right now, so if I were you, I’d lay low.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I said, but she’d already hung up.
I sat in the chair for several seconds, trying to figure out what to do with the two bombshells that had been dropped in my lap. I couldn’t do much with the confession, but I could talk to Abby. Did I call and confront her? It didn’t seem like a good idea. If she really had killed Heather, then she might run. I needed to wait for Marco.
But it turned out I couldn’t. Much to my surprise, Abby was sitting at the bar when I emerged from the back.
What was she doing here?
I walked behind the bar and ignored Max as I sidled up in front of her. “Hey, Abby,” I said, trying to sound breezy but not entirely sure I was pulling it off. “This is a surprise.”
“I was just wondering whether you’d had a chance to talk to Mitzi.”
“I did,” I said, resting a hand on the edge of the counter.
“Did she tell you anything that proved helpful?”
“She did,” I said. “She said that you were the one who told her about Tulsa.”
Her face paled, her usual confidence draining away.
“I know Paul helped you,” I said. “I have proof.”
She looked like she was about to be sick.
“I guess the question is why,” I said. “And how.”
She glanced around the room. “I’ll tell you, but not here.”
“Then I guess you can tell the sheriff,” I said.
Her eyes flew wide. “Carly. Please! Just let me explain what happened.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you alone. I’m not stupid.”
Her eyes flooded with tears. “Carly. I need your help. I’ll tell you everything, but not here.”
“Then how about Max’s office in the back?”
She hesitated. “Okay.”
I walked over to Max and whispered, “Abby’s part of this, and she’s going to tell me how in your office. I need you to get Tiny to watch the back door in case she decides to do something stupid.”
His eyes flew wide and he whisper-shouted, “What the hell, Carly? Why are you goin’ back there at all?”
“Because she knows what happened and we have no guarantee she’ll tell the sheriff. Especially since a deputy was involved. This might be the only way to clear Wyatt’s name.”
I started to walk past him, but he stopped me. “Do you have your recorder?”
“No,” I said, cursing my luck. “The tape was full and Marco took it.”
Turning to his side, he dug his cell phone out of his pocket. He tapped on the screen and then dropped it into my apron pocket. “To record the conversation.”
“Thanks,” I said, looking for Abby and finding her at the end of the bar. Had she seen Max give me his phone?
“Back this way,” I said when I reached her. I led her back to Max’s office and motioned for her to sit in Max’s chair while I took a seat on the guest chair.
“I’d like to shut the door,” she said.
“That’s not happening,” I said. “But I assure you that we won’t be disturbed.”
She didn’t answer, just twisted her hands in her lap.
“You were in town the night of Heather’s going-away party?” I asked. “Why didn’t you go?”
“We both agreed it would be better that way.”
“You couldn’t be tied to it if everyone thought you were in Knoxville. You came back to help Heather drug Bart so she could blackmail him.”
She nodded, refusing to meet my gaze.
Now the drugs made sense. “She asked you to get a drug to put him out.”
“I didn’t want any part of it at first,” she said, tears falling into her lap. “But Heather convinced me the payout would be worth it. She knew how desperate I was. I was behind on my rent, my next tuition payment was loomin’, and I had a trip to Tulsa with my class.”
“Which is why the postcard came from Tulsa.”
She nodded.
“But she changed her mind,” I
