Say Yes to the Death by Susan McBride

me. There were nights I’d even prayed that she’d get hit by a bus or have a meteorite drop from space smack onto her head. But seeing her now, like this, wasn’t how I’d hoped it would end. I hadn’t really wanted her to die. I had just wanted her to go away.
    â€œWho?” I asked, then again, “Who?” sounding like an owl. “Because if it wasn’t you, it had to be someone who was here right before you.”
    â€œI don’t know,” Millie said tremulously. “I didn’t see anyone when I arrived.” She must have read the skepticism on my face because she added, “I swear I didn’t kill her, Andy, no matter how it looks.”
    Swallowing the horrid taste in my mouth, I shifted my focus from Olivia to stare at the knife in Millie’s hand. “How it looks is pretty bad,” I said, because it did. “You’ll have to tell the police what you told me. You really didn’t stab her?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t stab her!” But as she said it, Millie glanced down at the knife as well. I heard the sharp intake of her breath, like she’d only just realized what she was holding. “Oh, dear,” she whispered and dropped it. The knife clunked onto the rug beside Olivia. “Oh, dear,” Millie said again and began to wipe her hands on her tan pants, leaving brick-­red smears. “My fingerprints will be all over it, won’t they?”
    â€œYes,” I said. It was a no-­brainer.
    â€œI didn’t do anything but try to help,” she insisted, her eyes wildly darting about the room and settling on the door. “I have to get out of here, Andy. If anyone sees me like this, they’ll get the wrong impression.”
    Um, hello? I was somebody. I had seen, and I would never forget.
    â€œYou can’t just take off,” I said, even though I wanted to get the hell out of there, too. I wanted to run home to my condo, jump in the shower, and scrub my brain clean of the past few minutes. But that wasn’t possible for many reasons, one of which was the cry of sirens fast approaching. “You have to stay,” I said, because it was the right thing to do, “they have to find out who did this.”
    Millie rushed to the window, parting the blinds. “They’re here! There’s an ambulance and a police car, oh, God,” she whimpered. She glanced down at the blood on her pants and her blouse. “They’ll think I’m guilty. They’re going to take one look at me and get the wrong impression.”
    She was probably right but I tried to calm her down. “You just have to tell them the truth, Millie. I believe you,” I said, and I meant it.
    â€œYes, of course, the truth,” Millie said and turned away from the window, nodding. “They’ll find whoever did it, and they’ll know it wasn’t me.” As she talked to herself, she circled her arms around her middle, further smudging brick-­red on her white blouse. “Then everything will be okay.”
    â€œYeah, it’ll be okay,” I said, but my voice was like a mouse’s squeak. I hope she bought it. I wasn’t so sure.
    As the sirens stopped smack in front of the building, I used my cell again, this time to call Malone. I prayed he wouldn’t sleep through the ring tones and let the call go to voice mail.
    â€œAndy?” I heard him say groggily. “Where are you?”
    â€œI’m at Olivia’s office at Highland Park Village,” I told him as tires screeched down below in the parking lot and car doors slammed shut. “Can you get dressed and come down here now ?”
    â€œWhat? Why?”
    â€œWait, scratch that,” I told him, my heart pounding. I had a feeling Millie and I were going to end up in the backseat of a squad car before Malone would even get here. “Better make that the police station.” I turned my head toward the door and