So much of what had happened after that made sense. Of course, tutored by Frank, Quinn knew Emily almost better than she knew herself. Frank would have advised her to complain about a husband who was an out-of-control collector. To have a few bottles of chilled prosecco handy. To put the Care Bears atop the pile in the garage. Given Frank’s penchant for dragging back what Emily put out for Goodwill, those Care Bears might even have been Emily’s. Thinking back, none of that junk, piled high in Quinn Newell’s garage, looked like anything that Quinn Newell ever would have coveted.

Emily heard a muffled cricket’s chirp. Silence, and then more chirping. Her ringtone. Frank reached for his hip pocket and took out her cell. He looked at the readout.

“Becca?” Emily said, though she was far from sure it was.

Frank gave her a blank look, but she knew him well enough to know that she was right.

“She knows I’m here. If I don’t call back, she’ll come looking for me.”

Quinn took the phone from Frank and turned it off. “We’ll just have to take that risk. Besides, we won’t be here long.” She rested her chin in her hand and gazed down at Emily. “You know, I’m actually sorry about this. In another lifetime, we might have been besties. Now you need to disappear.” She tapped a finger against her lips. “The question is, how? This time, we’ll keep it simple.”

“I guess you don’t have the time you had with Wally to create an illusion,” Emily said, “or the convenience of a ship’s railing to push me over.”

“He sat on the railing, you know. Like he was asking . . .” Quinn shifted her gaze toward the river. “Water,” she said, mulling. “I wonder when it’s high tide.” She took out her phone. After a bit of fiddling, she frowned. “Not for a few hours. We have to wait. Just as well.” She turned to Frank. “You need to leave. Go be seen somewhere. And I need to be seen somewhere, too.”

“What about me? Shouldn’t I be seen somewhere?” Emily said.

“Easy peasy,” Quinn said, flipping the fake ponytail attached to her cap. “We’ll make sure there are plenty of witnesses who’ll swear that they saw you driving around in your car.”

“Another hit-and-run, made to order?” Emily said.

Just then there was the sound of movement on the other side of the overhead door. Quinn and Frank traded surprised looks as, with a creak, the door started to rise. Frank raced over and slammed it shut. Quinn joined him, holding it down.

“Who’s in there?” A woman’s thin, reedy voice. A hand slapped sharply against the metal door. “You don’t belong in there. Get out!” Emily had never been happier to hear Mrs. Murphy at her most outraged.