“Oh, no. You forgot to go up to the station and talk to Leo. Do you think he’s mad?” she asks.
I read the text again that only says, “Dammit, Payton…”
“I don’t know, does Leo normally use the word dammit when expressing glee? Like, ‘Dammit, Emma Jo, you look lovely tonight!’ And I didn’t forget to go talk to him, I avoided him on purpose because PIE!” I shout.
“And because he’s a suspect on our list,” she reminds me, pointing to the stick figure I drew with a muscular chest, six-pack abs and flexing one of his arms above his head next to a talk bubble that said, Payton has a great ass and could never be a murderer, pass it on!
“Right? Like, how dare he come down on ME when he’s probably the one who beat up Jed and killed him. And how come Andrea Maynard knew about Jed’s black eye and we didn’t? You want to know why? Because Leo is guilty and he’s covering it up! I bet he only made out with me last night to distract me from the murderous rampage he went on when he beat the shit out of Jed right in this backyard when we were sleeping. You can kill a guy from punching him a bunch of times, right?” I ask, still staring down at the screen of my phone.
I swear I’m just pissed about the fact that Leo is keeping secrets that would keep him safe and throw me in the slammer, and not about how he may or may not have only kissed me to keep me from looking at his hands.
“You do realize you might have made out with a murderer last night, right? Doesn’t that creep you out a little bit? Like, good for him and all that, but still. He might have killed Jed with his bare hands and then he had those bare hands on your butt,” Emma Jo remarks with wide eyes.
“I mean, if we’re getting technical here, he kind of maybe made out with a murderer too, so I think our combined maybe-I-murdered-someone statuses cancel each other out.”
“MUSKRAT!” Emma Jo shouts and we both take a drink of wine.
“I’m just going to keep ignoring him until I can figure out what I’m going to say to him. What’s he going to do, drive over here and drag me to the station for not coming in?” I ask with a laugh.
Emma Jo and I both scream when there’s a knock at the door.
“Oh, no. Did you forget to end the text? Do you think he heard us?” she asks, scrambling up off the couch with me when I start slowly moving toward the front door.
“Who is it?” I shout to the door, reaching for the stupid triangle award on the side table for protection, because if Emma Jo and I aren’t the ones who killed Jed, that means the killer is still out there and we are entirely too drunk to defend ourselves with just our hands.
I pause in confusion and stare at the table when my hand comes up empty, forgetting about it and letting out a sigh of relief right along with Emma Jo when we hear a reply out on the porch.
“It’s Deputy Lloyd, ma’am,” Buddy speaks in a low voice.
“Awwww, look. Your boyfriend stopped by to check on you,” I tease, which earns me a smack in the arm from Emma Jo as I open the door with a smile.
“Sorry to stop by so late, I hope I’m not disturbing you. How are you doing, Emma Jo?” Buddy asks, quickly swiping his uniform hat from his head and smoothing back his hair.
“We were just talking about muskrats,” Emma Jo giggles, bringing the wine glass she carried with her up to her lips.
“I like muskrats,” Buddy says with a nod, which just makes Emma Jo giggle and drink some more. “Are there muskrats in Bald Knob?”
“Weeeeee, this is fun!” Emma Jo announces, holding up her wine glass. “I’m so glad you stopped by, Buddy. We should sit down and talk.”
While Buddy starts stammering and his face turns an alarming shade of red, I shake my head at Emma Jo. “No, we should not sit down and talk with Buddy. Buddy knows things!”
My attempt at whispering under my breath at Emma Jo fails and Buddy immediately pipes up. “I know a lot of things about muskrats!”
Which just makes Emma Jo take another sloppy drink, this one spilling all down her chin while she laughs with her face in the glass. It takes a few minutes and a lot of side-eye glaring to get Emma Jo to stop laughing and she finally puts on a serious face.
“To what do I owe you pleasure in your company, Buddy? I mean, to what do I pleasure you in front of company. Oh, my God!” Emma Jo complains, clamping her hand over her mouth while I take a little bit of delight in watching her blush while Buddy stares at her with wide, unblinking eyes.
“I think what she’s trying to say is, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” I say, deciphering Emma Jo’s drunk-speak once again.
Buddy clears his throat and tugs nervously on his tie, his eyes moving away from Emma Jo to me. “I’m sorry to do this, Payton, but Sheriff Hudson asked that I come over here and bring you down to the station.”
I choke on the mouthful of wine I attempted to swallow after asking Buddy what he’s doing here and Emma Jo pats me on the back.
“You have got to be kidding me?!” I shout angrily when I finally get the wine to go down the right pipe. “He sent you over here to collect me, like I’m some sort of criminal?!”
Buddy shrugs sheepishly, taking a step in my direction while moving his hand toward the utility belt around his waist, which just makes me laugh. I’m five-foot-seven and weigh all of a hundred-and-twenty-five pounds. Do I look like someone who would fight an officer of the law or resist arrest?