Next to me, David snaps out of his haze. “That’s not happening. I’ll call my lawyer. I don’t know what’s going on here but my daughter will enjoy her graduation party.”

“Tell your lawyer to meet us at the station. Let’s go, young lady.” Detective Branson isn’t taking no for an answer.

“Wait. I don’t understand. What are you talking about? What’s going on?” Betsy cries. Several heads in the crowd turn to watch us.

“It’s better not to make a scene,” Branson deadpans, even though he’s the one who is doing this, here, now. I guess he doesn’t think murderers deserve graduation parties, only diplomas.

“Dad, come with me?” Betsy is shaking now, hyperventilating. Bo’s arm is around her but she just wants her daddy. How sweet.

“We have the painting, sir.” A young cop trots up, carrying the original of Betsy’s prizewinning art.

“Escort Bo here to the station,” Branson tells the young guy, pointing to Bo. “Mrs. Harris, we’d like you to come down, too, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course. That would be my pleasure.” I’m thrilled to be invited to watch the rest of the story.

Standing behind Betsy, close enough to witness the drama unfold but a safe distance away, are Josh and Sandy. His eyes are wide, his head slowly shaking back and forth. His mom holds his hand.

“What are you charging my daughter with?” David says.

“She’s not being charged, sir. We want to talk to her about what happened the day Mary died. Some new evidence has come to light.” Branson is cool as a cucumber.

“What? The silly notes. Ignore them. I never should have told you about them.” I deliver my line perfectly and then cover my mouth again.

“No, there’s more. A witness. I’ll explain at the station. Let’s get going.”

Betsy’s terrified, I can tell. I’m her mother, I know these things. “Betsy, what is going on here?” I ask, shaking my head.

“Mom, I don’t know. I don’t understand.” Betsy is crying, tears ruin her perfect makeup. “Dad, do something!”

David is stunned as if he has been shocked in the heart, stingray style. “I’m calling the lawyer.”

Betsy turns her head. Is she looking for an escape? She sees Josh. I watch him flinch and then turn away. “No. This is crazy. I didn’t kill Mary. I loved Mary. Bo was there, he knows.”

Bo nods. “I was.”

Did Branson roll his eyes, or was I imagining it? “Of course you were, son. And so was our witness. So many boyfriends, so little time. But the thing is, she wasn’t with either of you the whole time, was she? No, there was plenty of time for a big shove.”