“On my cell, but I was home, yeah. It was late.”

“What did she want?”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to know, right? What did she forget? Am I supposed to ask Emily to bring something or whatever?”

“And?”

“And, buddy”—he leans closer—“she asked if I had a minute to talk about you.”

“What did she say?”

“She started out acting timid, saying she was worried about you, saying she was worried about herself. She told me about how she’d covered your ass as a favor, but how she’s doubting herself now. Swear to God, Bobby.”

“I believe you. What else did she say?”

“Well, let’s see. She said that kid came into your office a few days before he died. She said none of it was on the books, and that you drew blood that never got tested, and that the whole thing was shady, but that she covered for you when the cops called. She said she had to tell someone the truth or she was going to lose her mind. You ask me, she already has. You ask me, she’s the one you should have gotten rid of.”

I flinch.

“Sorry. I don’t mean it. Sorry about that. But you know what I mean, right? Because Bobby, she wanted to talk about this shit, so it’s like, you better count your lucky stars she chose me, right? And you haven’t even told me everything yet. You’re going to have to one of these days, you know. And you’d better hope that girl hasn’t told anyone else. She swore she hadn’t. And trust me, she definitely hasn’t now.”

“Why?” I ask. “What happened?”

He smiles, takes a long drink and sucks his teeth, followed by a disgusting, self-satisfied exhale—an audible, Ahhhh.

“What did you do, Raymond?”

He is smug and proud. “I shut her up.”

“What did you do?”

“Relax, dude. Relax.” He gestures, palm-to-concrete, for me to lower my voice. “I let her know that not only would I tell the cops that she lied and tampered with evidence—making her an accessory and in violation of whatever health shit she thinks she broke—but I reminded her that she’d lose her job because of it. Who would want to hire her then?”

“Ray.”

“And I said I’d tell the cops she’s a psycho.”

“Raymond,” I nearly shout. “Tell me you’re fucking with me.”

He grins. “I got your back, buddy.”

“This is having my back?”

“I told her I’d be first in line to testify that she’s a bunny-boiler.”

“What are you saying?”

He laughs out loud. “Glenn Close with the dead rabbit.”

“Yeah, I got that, dickhead. But what exactly did you tell her?”