The Whole Enchilada by Diane Mott Davidson

either Holly or Drew.”
    â€œThe envelope was addressed to Drew.”
    â€œMaybe he was a target. But it was a setup of some kind, no matter which of them was the target.” He waited a moment, then said, “We’re now treating Holly’s death as a homicide.” He lifted the warm blanket and touched my sleeve. “Hey!” he called in the direction of the curtain, using that commanding tone of his. “Can someone please get my wife another blanket?”
    â€œTom,” I managed to say, “Drew said Holly recently had a break-in.”
    â€œA burglar? Did they report it?”
    â€œI don’t know. Whoever it was didn’t take anything valuable. Just . . . something about a file cabinet. Then Holly got the seller to install a security system. Ask Drew about it.”
    Tom nodded. “Anything else?”
    â€œHolly’s cell phone,” I said. “Drew had it. He must have forgotten . . . when he was on Marla’s street. It had a threatening text . . .”
    â€œA threatening text,” Tom prompted.
    I grasped back into the far reaches of my brain. “ ‘Not another cent. Don’t ask, or you will regret it.’ Something like that. I was holding the cell when the deck gave way.”
    â€œMiss G.,” said Tom. He squeezed my shoulder very gently. “This is very helpful. Please get some rest.”
    I finally succumbed to a half sleep.
    Sometime later, I was wheeled away. Nausea rolled through me. If I can realize these things, I thought, then my brain must be coming back. Did I want my brain back?
    My thoughts, such as they were, reverted to Holly. Tears pricked my eyes as I recalled her limp body on the road. Tom had actually used the word homicide . But there hadn’t been a shot, or stabbing, or . . . would the cops have talked to Drew already? Who, besides George, Lena, and George’s mother, didn’t like Holly?
    Oh, God, I had a headache.
    When I opened my eyes, Tom was sitting beside the bed, holding my hand.
    â€œTime?” I asked.
    â€œ ’Bout midnight. Arch is out in the hall with Julian. Do you want them to come in? Arch is asleep in a chair,” he added.
    â€œFirst,” I said. “Wait.” My mouth felt full of fur. “Cell phone. Holly’s.”
    Tom said, “Our guys found it in the lake. The lab’s working on it.”
    I said, “Drew?”
    â€œHe’s with the foster family now. His aunt will be here today—it’s technically Saturday—in the afternoon. Then she’ll take him to Alaska. Julian gave Drew a check for a thou, to use as spending money? Said that was what you agreed?” When I nodded, Tom went on, “Drew and his aunt will be taking a flight together, changing planes at Sea-Tac. One of our guys will drive them to DIA. Get this: Drew wasn’t sure he wanted to leave. He was worried about you. Also, he confirmed your report about a break-in, the sixth of June. Holly did call the department, but the deputy who wrote down the details said nothing of value was taken. The only things that were busted were the back door, which the owner had repaired, and a filing cabinet. Holly told our guy she couldn’t tell if anything was missing. After that, the security system was installed. Oh, and she told Drew she was taking out an insurance policy. But the only thing she did was unpack some boxes and put out a bunch of religious statuary.” Tom gave me a puzzled look. When I nodded, he said, “So that makes no sense. We got a warrant, and our guys are going through her stuff now. So far, there’s no policy, nor anything else of interest.” Tom stopped talking, then fidgeted a bit in his chair.
    I said, “What?”
    â€œWe just got an anonymous report that Drew and his mother had a big fight this week.”
    â€œAn anonymous report of a fight between a teenager and his mother? Please. Arch