Josie's stomach turned at the memory of the insect-infested cake. Their burgers and fries arrived, but Josie wasn't hungry now.

"Heather nearly killed that lady, too," Amelia said.

"What lady?" Josie asked.

"The church picketer lady." Amelia dragged her fries through the ketchup. "Heather put on a Santa suit from the store as a disguise. She's big enough to pa.s.s for a guy. She went up a ladder and used a shovel to loosen the snow on the roof."

"Why would she do that?" Josie asked.

"Heather wanted to scare away the picketers, so the TV and newspaper stories would stop. She was afraid the kids at school would find out she was selling p.o.r.naments. She didn't realize the ice and snow would land on that woman's head and put her in the hospital. Now Heather can't sleep at night."

"So that old woman wasn't senile after all," Josie said. "It really was Santa Claus up on that roof." She nibbled her burger. Amelia was eating her food like a famine was due in town tomorrow.

"It was really Heather, dressed like Santa Claus. She laughed her a.s.s off when she saw that TV story."

"Amelia!"

"Well, she did." Amelia dipped another fry in ketchup.

"Did Heather poison your father and that other woman?" Josie asked.

"She swears she didn't. I got her really drunk, Mom. But Heather said her mother poisoned the dog next door."

"What dog?" Josie asked.

"The yappy dog that used to bark all the time so n.o.body could sleep. It kept me awake the whole night I stayed at her house. Doreen got sick of the mutt waking her up. She went to a Racers Edge car store, bought some antifreeze, poured it on a pound of hamburger, and threw it over the fence. The dog ate it and died the next day. Heather said she was glad. She hated that dog. That's cruel, Mom."

"Yes, it is," Josie said. Mike has a bigger problem than he knows with that girl, she thought.

"Heather had another wine cooler after she threw up. It made her sleepy. I waited until she pa.s.sed out drunk, then checked her computer. She'd Googled poisons right before Daddy died. I found a bunch of sites about how antifreeze kills cats and dogs and some stories about a lady who murdered her husband with antifreeze. I know Heather killed Daddy. She's too afraid to say so."

"What did you do then?" Josie asked.

"It was after midnight, and I had to get out of there. I couldn't stay all night. What if Heather put poison in my soda or something? That's when I called you on the kitchen phone. I was sneaking out the door when Doreen came home early. She was supposed to spend the night with her boyfriend, but she didn't. She was in a bad mood."

I bet, Josie thought.

Amelia finished her burger, then finished her story. "Doreen wanted to know why I was at her home. I said I'd stopped by to say h.e.l.lo to Heather. She got real sarcastic and said, 'And you're such good friends you have to see her at midnight?'

"I was trying to figure out what to say next when Heather walked in the room. She was wasted, Mom, but Doreen didn't say anything about that. Heather told her, 'She's been snooping around in my computer. She left it on. She saw the antifreeze stories.'

"I said I had to get home and started running for the door. Doreen grabbed my arm. She left bruises." Amelia slid up her pink sleeve and showed a dark blue handprint. Josie burned with fury when she saw the damage to her daughter. She wished she'd really set fire to Doreen's hair.

"I tried to get away, but I couldn't," Amelia said. "Heather held me down and Doreen tied me to a chair in the kitchen. It hurt. I was scared she was going to kill me or something. Then Doreen called you and wanted a bunch of money. She saw your car pull into the driveway and ran outside. We heard you two arguing. Then you called Heather and said to let me go, and Heather did."

"Just how did you get to Heather's house?" Josie asked.

"Kelsey, a kid in our cla.s.s, has an older brother who picks her up at school sometimes. He was out driving and saw me. He gave me a ride."

"And he didn't ask what you were doing roaming around alone at this hour?"

"No, he's cool, Mom. What are you doing with your phone?"

"I'm calling the police and having Doreen arrested," Josie said.

"No, Mom, you can't do that. I'll be a joke at school."

"You'll survive," Josie said.

"But she won't do it anymore, Mom. She's afraid of you."

"She better be," Josie said. "Amelia, promise me that you'll never do that again."

"Are you mad at me?" Amelia asked.

"I'm angry that you took off on your own and did something so careless. Yes."

"Am I grounded?" Amelia said in a small voice.

"Until you collect Social Security," Josie said.

"When's that?" Amelia asked.

"Fifty-six years," Josie said.

Amelia's lower lip quivered and Josie was afraid she'd start crying again. Their table looked like a battle-ground. Her daughter's pool of ketchup seemed like a bloodstain.

"It's late," Josie said. "We're going home and you're going to thank Mike and Stan."

"And then what?" Amelia asked.

"Then you're going to bed."

And I'm going to try to convince Mike that his daughter is a killer, she thought.

Chapter 31.

"You think my daughter did what?" Mike shouted at Josie.

They were alone on her front porch at two thirty in the morning, and Mike's anger seemed to echo through the neighborhood. She winced at his shouting. Her neighbors had to work in the morning. They'd be calling the police any moment.

I've made a mistake, Josie thought. I should have told him this tomorrow, when he was in a more reasonable mood. No parent wants news like this, and there's no good time to deliver it. I wanted to wait until we were alone.

Stan had gone home, with Josie's thanks and a plate of her mother's brownies. Amelia was tucked into bed.

Mike was the last to leave, and Josie waited until they were outside to tell him what Amelia had discovered. Mike had not taken the news well. Even under the dim streetlight, Josie could tell her lover was red with rage. Mike was practically spitting, he was so furious. The muscles in his neck bulged.

"You really think poor little Heather killed two people and put that church picketer in a coma? Are you crazy?"

"Mike, please, keep it down," Josie said. "What if Mrs. Mueller hears you?"

"Screw her," Mike said. "That old biddy makes up half the gossip she spreads. Maybe we should move this fight to her porch so she can get the facts straight."

"Mike, please don't be angry with me. You need to know this or things will only get worse. Heather's already confessed that she put on a Santa suit and shoveled snow off the roof and it hit that church lady."

"Confessed?" Mike said. "Confessed to who-your delinquent daughter? The kid who roams the streets at night with wine coolers and gets Heather drunk? Amelia hates Heather."

"And Heather hates her," Josie said.

"With good reason," Mike said. "Amelia is making up those stories about my girl. Did she really tell you that Heather put on a Santa suit and climbed up on the roof?"

"Yes," Josie said.

"That's a lie. Heather wouldn't get up on a roof. She won't even climb the stairs to her mother's apartment on the second floor."

Mike paced Josie's porch like a caged animal, as if he couldn't contain his anger. He scratched the back of his neck, then threw his hands up in the air.

"I give up," he said.

"Mike, please, Heather didn't mean to hurt the church picketer. It was an accident."

"That's real generous of you, Josie. So if the woman dies, Heather is only guilty of manslaughter."

"I think the church picketer is going to be okay," Josie said. "But your daughter has a problem with alcohol."

"Only because your daughter gave it to her. What teenager would turn down booze? Amelia stole those wine coolers."

"I know she did, Mike. She's grounded for life. But this isn't the first time Heather was drunk. She sneaked beer out of my house and threw the bottles at the neighbor's fence."

"How do I know your daughter didn't give that beer to Heather?" Mike asked. "Every time something goes wrong with my girl, your daughter is in the picture. She's a troublemaker."

"Amelia wouldn't do that," Josie said. "She didn't give Heather beer. Heather took it."

"Oh, really?" Mike said. "So perfect little Amelia would hike miles to Clayton to get my kid drunk, but she wouldn't reach into her own refrigerator and hand Heather a beer?"

"No, I didn't mean that," Josie said.

Mike had his arms folded defensively in front of his chest. Lord, he was handsome. Those muscles in his arms were natural, not built at a gym. That wasn't designer stubble on his chin, either. Josie knew how good a slightly scratchy beard felt.

She longed for Mike to hold her. But Josie wasn't going to say her daughter was guilty of something she didn't do, even for Mike.

"Mike, please. I wasn't making accusations."

"Then what were you doing? You said Heather nearly killed that church lady. I bet you think she poisoned those people, too."

"I didn't say that. But I did say Heather Googled those sites about antifreeze deaths."

"And told your perfect little darling that her mother killed the dog next door. Now that I believe. Doreen is mean enough to kill an innocent dog. And here's my other problem: Why didn't you take me along to Doreen's house to get your girl? Don't you trust me?"

"I knew you wouldn't believe a word against Heather, no matter what my daughter said. Somehow you'd twist the information so it would be Amelia's fault. That's how you handle any criticism of Heather and that's why she's such a . . ."

Josie stopped, afraid to go on.

"Such a what?" Mike asked.

"That's why she has problems," Josie finished, proud of her diplomacy. "And I was right," she added triumphantly. "That's exactly what happened."

"Josie, I understand that you were worried about your girl," Mike said, "but my daughter was involved, too. You should have taken me along with you. Heather is living with that psycho Doreen. I want to marry you. We're in this together."

Mike should have taken Josie's hand by this point, but they remained apart. Some marriage we'll have, Josie thought. We'll be arguing about our kids till death parts us. The big question will be whose death.

Josie saw a light pop on in Mrs. Mueller's house, and lowered her voice to a near whisper. "Mike, your daughter needs help. She's drinking too much. She used her computer to look up information about how to kill people with antifreeze."

"Oh," Mike said, "so my daughter is a killer. Do you really think Heather murdered Nate and that poor radio contestant?"

Yes, Josie wanted to say. But she restrained herself again and gave a more reasonable reply. "Who else would it be?"

"Maybe it was me," Mike said. "Maybe I killed those people. Yes, that's it. I bought the antifreeze-the police will tell you that-and I went to Elsie's shop and poured it in the chocolate sauce. I wanted Nate dead so I could have you all to myself."

"Mike, that's crazy."

"Not as crazy as accusing a fourteen-year-old girl of killing two people. Why would Heather do that, Josie? Give me a reason."

"She didn't want to work at her mother's store," Josie said. "And I don't blame her. Heather planted those roaches at Naughty or Nice. She told Amelia that."

"Planted those roaches? Heather won't even kill bugs and spiders. She gets me to do it. She traps them under a gla.s.s. You really think she took a box, or a jar, of roaches to her mother's store and turned them loose?"

"Yes," Josie said.

"Funny no one else was around when that happened," Mike said. "Doreen watches that kid like a hawk, but she didn't notice her daughter carrying a box of roaches? She just let Heather turn them loose in the store and ruin her business."

"She could have hidden them under her coat," Josie said.

"Look, Josie, it's your daughter's word against mine. And I know who I believe. My kid has her faults, but Heather doesn't trap people with alcohol."

"Mike, please. I'm not saying Heather is a bad kid. But she has problems."

"She didn't make those problems, Josie," Mike said. "It isn't my daughter's fault that she has two bad parents-Doreen and me. I didn't help Heather when she needed me most. I didn't want her to live with me. I didn't fight for custody. I let her mother bring her up. I abandoned my daughter for my business, and Heather got stuck working at that terrible store.

"That's my fault, Josie. And my responsibility. I'm going to the police and confess, so Heather doesn't get blamed for those murders."

"Mike, you can't do that."