Joe’s questions and requests for clarification: “Wait, which one of Gus’s sons is that again?” helped pass the time quickly. The moment we stepped through the facility’s front doors, Cathy looked up. Her instant alertness and the high-wattage beam on her shiny, pink face told me that she’d already gotten word of Frances’s arrest. Had it only been three days since this nightmare began? Those three days had given the police sufficient time to build a strong enough case against Frances to warrant an arrest. By contrast, how much had I accomplished in my attempt to clear her name? Nothing. Nothing at all. Cathy fidgeted in her swivel seat. She raised her hand, beckoning us closer. “Grace, over here.” Joe touched my arm, stopping me. “Are you okay?” he asked. I nodded, even though “okay” was a stretch. “Whenever Frances and I have helped the police solve a murder, she and I have done it together.
