Fourteen
When I opened the door to the storage shed, I found it packed tighter than a box of Thin Mints. I cursed, remembering I’d
agreed Emmylou’s granddaughter could store her furniture and clothes there while studying abroad.
A quick scan of the yard revealed the twins’ Victorian playhouse, an extravagant present from my mom. I couldn’t pry the girls
out of it in the summer, but during this never-ending Boise winter they hadn’t set foot in the backyard, much less gone near
the playhouse.
I kicked snow away from the wide faux French doors, dragged them open, and peered inside. A grown man certainly couldn’t lie
flat in it. But it might be the exact right size for a crumpled corpse.
The twins’ large plastic sled leaned against the house. I carried it back out to the Impala, where Layna stood shivering,
breath coming out in cartoon thought bubbles.
“I’ve got a spot for him,” I said, popping the trunk. “My kids’ playhouse.”
“Not the first place someone would look,” Layna agreed.
Now that it was time to actually move the body, I was having reservations. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to lift him.”
“Not a problem,” she said. “I deadlift 220. I only started pole because I need to get in touch with my feminine side.” She
slipped her hands under the mansicle’s shoulders.
When I wrenched his legs, the body slid and lifted.
But one of his feet snagged on something.
A few more grunting yanks and the frozen body crashed down onto the plastic sled.
A beat-up sneaker fell off, revealing a socked foot with the big toe pushing through a hole.
Something clattered onto the ground. I moaned in disgust.
“I really don’t think you killed him,” Layna said.
“Of course I didn’t,” I hissed. “That is not up for debate.” Even as I said it, I rubbed at my broken fingernail with the
pad of my thumb. I knew there was a chance I was wrong.
The ice and snow bit into my shins as I dropped to all fours, on the hunt for whatever had fallen out of his pocket. My fingers
closed on a pill bottle. My phone flashlight illuminated the label. The name of whoever the pills had been prescribed to had
been scratched off.
“Ambien,” I said. “Do you think that’s what I was roofied with?”
“And he died with his pants unbuckled,” Layna said. “The bastard!” She gave the corpse a swift kick before stepping into the
big loop on the front of the sled.
I followed behind as Layna pulled like a Clydesdale headed to the barn. I propelled the Flexible Flyer forward with hard shoves,
trying not to touch the stiff legs clad in denim. “Say the dead guy drugged my gimlet, then grabbed me when I was standing
outside waiting for Shade and dragged me around to the alley. But then what?” Had I killed him, put on his vest, and then
passed out in my car for seven hours? I shoved hard on the sled, as if to push away the thought. “I honestly don’t think I
murdered him and stuffed him in my trunk while zoinked out on Ambien. Maybe I got away from Connor and this Errol showed up
and offed him.”
“Possible,” Layna concurred.
“But it still doesn’t explain where the hell I was for seven hours.” I’d woken up in my own bed, which somehow only added
to the mystery. “Maybe I should’ve gone to the police. Ambien would’ve shown up in my system the day after, right?”
“Life can only be understood backward,” Layna said.
“Did you see that on a sign at TJ Maxx/HomeGoods?” I said.
“That’s pure Etsy, baby.”
As we passed through the fence gate, I stood up straight to close it as Layna leaned forward, straining against the rope loop. When it snapped, she fell face forward, hitting the ground with a hard thump.
“William Shatner!” she said.
“Shhhhh!” I said. “My babysitter will hear. Also, you okay?”
She crawled up onto her hands and knees. “TBD.”
“I got it,” I said. Squatting all the way down, I pushed on the sled with all the power of my haunches. It didn’t budge.
“Move it,” Layna said. With one powerful shove, the sled slid forward until the front tip pressed up against the open double
doors of the playhouse. She deadlifted the back end. “Come on, wussy. Buck up!” she whispered.
Holding my breath, I leaned in and pushed the rigor mortis-ed butt cheeks. The scrunched-up corpse slid into the playhouse
and out of sight as the back porch light came on.
A silhouetted figure stepped through my sliding glass door and raised the stock of a crossbow to her shoulder. “Who’s there?”
Emmylou cried.
I stepped out of the blackness. “Emmylou, it’s me—Tilly! Put that thing down.”
“You scared me!” Emmylou said. “What in the heck are you doing in the backyard?”
A sigh of relief escaped me. She hadn’t seen anything. “I’m loaning a sled to my friend from pole.” I hadn’t lied to a maternal
figure since my teenage years, but apparently it was like riding a bike.
Layna popped up from behind the playhouse, holding the sled. “Just giving it a test push around the yard,” she said.
“I’m Emmylou!”
“Emmylou! The fabulous neighbor!” Layna said, sounding like she’d never been so pleased to meet someone. “The fact that you
look after the kids so this one can get out of the house—” She hooked a thumb in my direction. “Incredible!”
“I knew Tilly would meet some fun ladies at pole!” Emmylou cried.
“Thanks for the loan, Tilly!” Layna lifted the sled aloft with both hands, which was either a nice touch or too much. I really
couldn’t tell.
“Sorry to scare you,” I told Emmylou. “Be right in.”
“It might be a minute,” Layna said, conspiratorially. “I’m going through a divorce and I need a little more advice from this
one.”
“I’ve been there!” Emmylou said. “Why don’t you two go grab a drink and talk it out? I just started that movie. You know,
the one where Emma Thompson hires a hot young prostitute to help her experience her sexual fantasies, but they actually connect?”
“We don’t say prostitute anymore,” I muttered.
“Tomato, to-mah-toe. I’m not budging off your sofa until this movie is over. Seriously, you two! Get!”
As Emmylou disappeared back into my side of the duplex, I closed the doors of the playhouse.
“I’ve told her a million times I don’t want that crossbow around my kids,” I grumbled.
“You ought to be thanking your lucky stars she babysits your horror-movie twins for free,” Layna said. “And at least it’s
supposed to dump snow tonight.”
Six inches of snow would bury our tracks. But that could only buy me so much time. It’s like my mom used to tell my girls
anytime we visited from LA and they complained of the cold: “Winter seems like it will last forever, but that spring thaw
is coming, girls.” And I needed to figure out who killed the mansicle long before it did.