She steeled herself, determined not to give Tonya any more satisfaction by showcasing her ignorance. “Are you really accusing Philip of murdering Nate?”

Tonya’s pupils moved counterclockwise to the twelve o’clock position. “I’m only saying that pointing the finger at me is as ridiculous as suggesting it was your husband.” Tonya clapped, a nursery teacher trying to draw the class’s attention. “You are so desperate to avoid the obvious conclusion that you’ve invented this whole bullshit scenario. You can’t accept the truth. Your best friend was married to a complete and utter philanderer who used his position as a big-shot director to pressure women into sex acts and, I’m sure, extramarital affairs. She found out, grabbed their gun out of a safe or wherever they kept it, and shot him. Afterward, she ran off to avoid spending the rest of her life in jail and is now probably pretending to be a full-time barista in Montenegro or Saudi Arabia. End of story.”

Imani wanted to shut Tonya up, to put an end to her haughty and cruel commentary. The woman had no right to treat her this way in her home. To talk down to her. She raised the knife closer to the lip of her bag. “You’re spewing lies to cover up your involvement,” Imani said.

“I’m telling you the truth that you refuse to see,” Tonya retorted.

“I want you gone.” Imani nearly pulled the weapon from her purse as she spoke. “That’s the truth. I want you out of my house.”

Tonya crossed her arms. “Well, then, you’re going to need a lawyer. There’s a moratorium on evictions, and we have an agreement.”

“There’s no contract. We took you in out of the goodness—”

“Spare me. I’ve been paying rent in the form of labor,” Tonya said. “And it doesn’t matter. You need a sheriff to evict me. So, if you want to tell the police how you brokered an off-the-books work-for-rent situation, feel free.” Tonya started toward the stairs. “I need to get ready for my job.”

The knife seemed to pulse in Imani’s hand. “I want you to leave.”

“I don’t care,” Tonya shouted behind her.

Imani stepped in her direction. It was now or never, she thought. If she was going to order her tenant out at knifepoint, now was the time, before Tonya had the higher ground.

Imani released her grip on the weapon. She was a healer, not a fighter. “I’ll call the police!” Her threat didn’t even sound credible to her own ears. She didn’t want the cops in her house, possibly writing citations for them taking in Tonya in the first place.

“You do that!” Tonya yelled.