“What?” I yelled, ignoring Freddie, who was yanking on my arm.
“Well, yes. They’re typing up a confession for her to sign as we speak,” he said. “I’ve let them know that nothing, nothing, is to be signed until I get there, which should buy us some time, but you need to talk to her. I can’t delay this forever, especially if she suddenly decides to waive her right to an attorney too.”
“She wouldn’t,” I replied quickly, before I realized that I never would have thought she’d have pled guilty either. “This is crazy.”
“Erica, I know you and your mother love this woman, but, I have to ask, is there any possibility she could have—”
“No!”
“Okay, then you know what you have to do. My assistant’s booking me a flight, but I won’t get there until tomorrow at the earliest.”
“Got it. Thank you. So much.”
“Talk to her, Erica,” he said with a sigh. “Your mother will kill me if this thing goes sideways.”
“Understood.” I ended the call and looked up at Freddie.
“What’s happen—”
“She’s pleading guilty. Tweety is pleading guilty to murder.”
Freddie’s eyes widened, “Why?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
“How long do we have?”
“My uncle Jack’s trying to delay, but soon. We’re running out of time.”
“Oh man,” he moaned. “Oh man.”
“Freddie, please. We need to do this.”
He nodded. “All right. Okay. Yes,” he hissed, slapping the steering wheel. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but … I’m in. Let’s do it!”
“You mean it?”
“Well,” Freddie said, pulling us out of the parking lot. “If we’re going down—and let’s face it, sooner or later we were going to go down—I say let’s do it in a blaze of glory.” He reached his fist over to me.
I stared at his knuckles, not moving.
“Fist bump, Erica,” he said, with his eyes on the road. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
I sighed.
“Come on! Balls to the wall!”
And before I even realized it, my knuckles collided with Freddie’s.
“Yeah! We’re digging up a grave!” he screamed, before adding, “We’re so going to jail.”
* * *
Unfortunately after we got ourselves all psyched up, we realized it was probably best to wait until well after dark to do that actual … deed. Grave digging wasn’t exactly a broad-daylight type of activity. I decided to head back home for a shower and a change of clothes before meeting up with Freddie later. He wanted to stop in at the fair, so I dropped him off with Lightning then took her to the retreat. I had to admit Lightning was growing on me now that I was figuring out how to handle her. Sure, she was loud and obnoxious, but she was also really, really fast.
When I got inside the lodge, I found the guests meditating in front of a photo of Kit Kat. For a moment, I thought the worst, then realized they were just doing a prayer slash meditation session. My mother was a great believer in the healing power of positive thoughts. Thankfully, when I excused myself, she didn’t try to stop me. I couldn’t sit and be calm. I just couldn’t. I’d rather pace the floor any day.
As soon as I had shut the door to my room, I pulled out my phone. The red message light was blinking. Huh. Missed call.
I scrolled past my uncle’s number to see who had called before him. Grady.
For a moment I debated whether I wanted to listen to the message. If Freddie and I really went through with digging up the—what? memorial coffin?—it might just be the last nail in my relationship with Grady.
How had everything gotten so out of control so fast?
I had been thinking, like my uncle, that the case wouldn’t even make it to trial, especially with the VHS tape that showed all the other people who had access to Mr. Masterson right before he died—of course, we still had to turn those tapes over—but now with Tweety confessing, well, there still wouldn’t be a trial. They’d go right to sentencing.
No, there was no way around it. I could tell myself I was torn about digging up this coffin. I could hem and haw and feel terrible about Grady. But I knew in my heart, I was going to do whatever it took to help the twins. I really was all-in.
I swiped my phone and brought it to my ear.
Hey, Erica. It’s me. I could hear him inhale deeply. If you haven’t heard, you will soon. Tweety’s decided to plead guilty. I just want you to know I tried talking to her. I know this isn’t—but it doesn’t mean you should go off and—He paused a moment longer and then said, Never mind. I just wanted you to know.
I dropped the phone away from my face.
Well, I guess it was official. Grady wasn’t even trying to warn me off anymore … and that had to mean he had given up on us. For good.
“Frick!” I shouted, throwing my phone onto the bed.
A startled scream sounded from outside my room.
“Sorry!” I shouted back. “Sorry.”
* * *
After a couple of really miserable hours of chewing off my fingernails, I picked up Freddie from town and took him back to his house for what could be our last meal on the outside. Frozen fish sticks and fries I had wanted to eat at the fair, but Freddie looked a little green at the thought. Guess he had overdone it with all the fried food.
Once we had cleared up the dishes, Freddie disappeared into another room. He came back a minute later with a pile of clothes and passed it to me. A black track suit, toque, and gloves.
I flipped through the stack, checking the labels. “Um, Freddie,” I said, picking up one of the gloves and trying it on. “Why do you have a breaking-and-entering outfit ready to go in my size?”
He shrugged. “I’ve been surfing the ’Net a lot for the business … and I may have a bit of an online shopping problem. A problem that is totally paying off for us right now.”
I nodded, pinching my lips together. “Do I want to know how many other outfits, in my size, you just happen to have lying around?”
“I don’t think knowing the number will contribute anything to what we’re trying to accomplish this evening,” he replied. “But you should know, I have an awesome maid’s outfit if we ever have any business in a hotel. It’s beige and totally shapeless. You’ll love it.”
I blinked. “Right.”
I shoved the toque on my head. Couldn’t deny it. Good elasticity. “So, I don’t suppose you’ve given any thought to how we are going to accomplish … what it is we are planning to do tonight?”
“Dig up the bodiless coffin, you mean?”
I shot him a look.
“Hey, this is your baby. You need to own it,” he said matter-of-factly. “But what about it?”
“Well, the logistics,” I said. “I don’t exactly have much upper-body strength … or a shovel. Do you own a shovel?”
Freddie smiled slyly in return. “I’ve got something way better than a shovel.”
“Does it require strength, because, as I say, I’m not exactly…” I trailed off, flexing my biceps. “And you’re not exactly…” I gestured a weak hand in his direction.
“What, Erica?” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “What am I not exactly?”
I threw the same hand in the air. “You’re not exactly in grave-digging shape. There. I said it.”
Freddie brought his fingertips to his chest. “How dare you.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Please. I can’t take the normal theatrics. Not tonight. Just answer the question.”
“Erica. Erica. Erica,” Freddie began.
“I said please.”
“Of course I’ve given it some thought,” Freddie said. “As always I’m way ahead of you. Always thinking, I am.”
I cracked one eye open.
“Unlike you, who just decides to dig up a grave willy-nilly, I have thought about the logistics of your insane plan. In fact, I’m fairly certain, I have thought of everything.”
“Really,” I said, dropping my chin to my chest. “Then do share. How exactly are you and I going to dig up six feet of dirt?”
“I have one word for you.”
I closed my eyes again.
“Backhoe.”