Given this excrescence of notoriety, Rose has no doubt her estate lawyer is aware that consulting about the will after her husband’s unexpected demise isn’t the only issue her client has with the legal system.

The upside of the YouTube phenomenon is that Royal’s grandmother, Elizabeth Pryor, has not only agreed to accompany Rose when she turns herself in but will also represent her in all things pertaining. Royal promises Rose can’t find a better criminal defense attorney than his grandma. What better recommendation can Rose ask for?

Not that she has to ask. Now that she is a media sensation, everyone and his or her dog is clamoring to represent her. Mel calls to let her know Uncle Daniel had to unplug the house phone and that after her dance class, he and she will be driving to the Highlands. A friend of her dad’s has a cabin there. She and Daniel are to hide out for a few days until, to quote Flynn, “I get this finalized.”

Not a phrase that comforts a felon with a target on her back.

At two thirty, dressed in another of Izzy’s outfits—a gray pinstriped skirt, a fitted cap-sleeved blouse in white cotton, black patent leather flats, and an ear-length auburn wig, shingled into gentle flying buttresses to either side of her face—Rose calls for a ride.

Once the will is changed, she will breathe easier. Flynn, Daniel, and Grandma Nancy will be removed, if not from suspicion, at least from the temptation to make any future attempts on her life.

Maybe it’s because of the numbing effects of drugs working their way out of her system, but if the greedy murderous person is family, Rose doesn’t want to find out who. If it is Flynn, Mel will be shattered. If Daniel or Nancy, the hit won’t be as devastating, but it will hurt. Blended-family gatherings are hard enough to navigate without one member having literally tried to murder another.

Ms. Lopez and the provider of victims might still want to kill Rose for what they imagine she knows. Oddly that doesn’t frighten her as much as it should. That isn’t personal. She is too tired to drum up any interest in deadly strangers. Spiritually and psychologically, Rose is exhausted, the kind of life-fatigue she occasionally glimpses in the eyes of the very, very old. Her mother-in-law at ninety-seven, her great-uncle at ninety-five, no sorrow, resentment, or despair, just a great weariness, a desire to leave this party and go home.

Unfortunately for Rose, though she is a lousy Buddhist, she is a believer. If she nods off with her karma in such a snarl, she’ll just be born into another life and have to work the whole thing out over again.

From scratch.