It was possible. Maybe that creaking she’d heard from overhead wasn’t the cat. If Walter Newell had been upstairs listening to Emily and Quinn bitch and moan about their husbands, he’d have been well and truly pissed. “Do I tell the police that I went to the coffee shop after I left Quinn’s house?”

Frank didn’t answer right away. “Did you tell the police that you didn’t stop for coffee?”

“I said I went home. I didn’t mention anything about the coffee stop.”

Silence on the other end.

“Frank?”

“I’m thinking.”

Emily knew Frank was analyzing and weighing the options. But she needed an answer. What if Stanley came back at her with more questions? “If I don’t tell them now and they find out later, won’t that be worse?”

“Emmy, stop acting like you’re guilty. You didn’t do anything. You haven’t lied. You’ve just—”

“Withheld information that I know full well could be pertinent.”

“Really? They already know his car was in the Square because someone reported the hit-and-run. What does it add to their investigation? Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Unless it’s your car that he hit.”

Emily shuddered, remembering the moment when the man from the coffee shop had locked eyes with hers from outside and pitched his coffee cup at her car. How his tires had screeched as he drove off. “What if he did? And what happens when the police discover—”

“If they discover.”

“But my car. My taillight.”

“Easily fixed. I’ll take care of it.”

“Now?” Could he really just snap his fingers and make it go away?

“I know a guy who owes me.” Frank’s voice sounded so reassuring. “Emmy, you know as well as I do that you had absolutely nothing to do with this man’s disappearance. So why waste the detective’s time?”

That made sense. But still, the good girl in her wanted to come clean. “But what if I saw something that could help the police find him?” Like . . . had the man from the coffee shop been carrying one coffee or two? Had there been anyone waiting for him in his parked car? If she’d noticed, that could have helped. But she hadn’t.

“Emmy, for once think about what’s in your own best interest.” Frank sounded exasperated. This was his I know how the world works and you don’t tone. “It will only open up a can of worms if . . . well, if, worst-case, that woman’s husband never comes home and she says something that makes them suspect that you had something to do with his disappearance.”

Emily swallowed hard. “Why would they think that?”

“Do I need to spell it out? He spills his coffee on you. Dents your car. Anyone would be ticked off. Heck, if it were me I’d have been itching for a fight.”

“But I’d never—”