“Who do you plan on sharin’ this information with?”

“I can keep it between the two of us.”

He pursed his lips and cast a glance toward the bar, a small grin lighting up his eyes. “Your boss ain’t too happy with me talkin’ to you.”

Sure enough, Max was glaring at him, looking like he was prepared to vault over the counter to intervene. He’d known Bingham was coming, so this had to be for show.

“As long as you behave yourself, you’ll be fine. Now tell me what you know.”

Sucking in a deep breath, he leaned forward, resting both forearms on the table. “Between you and me, I got a phone call from a woman. She had a car that needed to disappear and wanted to know if I could help. I said sure, bring it by, but she wanted me to come get it instead. I told her that I didn’t work that way. So she said she wanted to drop it off, no contact. I said fine, leave it at the end of my driveway, and I’ll send a guy to drive it in the rest of the way. I asked her how she wanted me to pay her, and after some hemming and hawing, she finally said she’d pass on the money, even though I could tell she really wanted to take it.”

A woman?

“I’ll admit, I was damn curious, but I didn’t ask questions. I figured it was a disgruntled wife tryin’ to get back at her soon-to-be ex by gettin’ rid of his prized Corvette or something. Only it turned out to be a Chevy Cavalier. A real piece of shit at that.”

“And the time frame aligns with when she left?” I asked.

“It’s been a few years, but I’d say yes. Plus, that’s not how I do things, so it stuck out.” He leaned even closer, his eyes alight with the knowledge he was about to share. “There’s one more thing that I found odd.”

“Okay…”

“When I said I was curious, I was curious enough that I hid in the woods, waiting to see who dropped off the car. It was definitely a woman, but it was the person who picked her up that caught my attention.”

“Who?”

“Someone in a deputy sheriff car.”

I sat back in my seat. Had it been Paul? Had he recruited a woman to help him dispose of the car? Was it Mitzi?

He released a short laugh. “Awww…the wheels are turnin’…”

“This has been more helpful than you know.”

“Then my work here is done.” He started to slide out of his seat.

“Why were you so agreeable?” I asked.

He paused at the end of the seat. “Lula. She likes you, and you gave her the benefit of the doubt. And she’s fond of that fool brother of hers.” He stood. “But don’t push your luck in the future…unless it involves Bart Drummond. When it comes to him, I’m all ears.”

He and his men left, and I hurried over to Max to assure him I was fine.

“Well?” Max grunted when I reached him behind the bar.

“He had some really valuable information. Something that could ultimately save Wyatt’s ass.”

Max looked skeptical, but I didn’t have time to pacify him. I had a lot of thinking to do.

While I served my tables, I spent the next five minutes mulling over what Bingham had told me, trying to make it fit with what I knew.

A woman.

The top two women who came to mind were May and Mitzi, and May seemed the most likely suspect. By her own admission, she’d been upset about Heather leaving. Maybe she’d killed her in the heat of the moment. But who had Heather been talking to about getting drugs? Or had May made that up?

Would Mitzi answer more questions if I called her? Paul would likely be at work.

I headed over to the bar again. “Max, I need to make a phone call.”

He gave me a wary look. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back.”

I grabbed my purse out of the back room and found Mitzi’s phone number, then went into the office, my heart beating like a jackrabbit while I placed the call.

“Hello?” a tentative female voice answered.

“Mitzi?” I asked. “This is Carly.”

“What do you want?” she demanded.

Obviously she blamed me for what had happened with Paul. “I had a few more questions.”

“I’m not talkin’ to you,” she said. “You got me into all kinds of trouble.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to happen, but an innocent man is about to be arrested.”

“Maybe he’s not so innocent,” she snapped.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” I said. Then, deciding to take a chance, I said, “We both know who killed her.”

She was silent for a moment. “What do you know?”

Oh. Crap. “I know Paul helped dispose of her car.”

“You can’t prove that,” she said.

Wait. Was Mitzi the killer? What if I’d gotten it wrong, and Paul had helped her dispose of the body rather than the other way around?

“How’d you come up with Tulsa?” I asked. “She never told anyone she was going there. Did you drive all the way there to mail that postcard to Hilde?”

“What are you talkin’ about?” she asked. Then she gasped. “You think I killed her?”

“If you didn’t, how’d you know about Tulsa?”

“Abby told me.”

“How did she know? She wasn’t even here at the time.”

“I don’t know. Probably on a phone call. I know Abby was really stressed about money at the time and didn’t come back home much.”

“Did Paul take a trip to Tulsa around the time Heather disappeared?” We’d already asked his ex-wife, but it seemed worthwhile asking Mitzi too.

“I don’t know. I didn’t even know him then, but I don’t think he’s ever been to Oklahoma.”

If Paul hadn’t mailed it, then it must have been done by his female accomplice.

Oh. God. Only one other person had known about Tulsa.

“I didn’t kill her. I swear,” she said, starting to cry. “The only thing I’m guilty of is calling the sheriff about Wyatt. I felt terrible about doin’ it, but Heather convinced me that I might be savin’ someone’s life. Only the more I think about it…he was so drunk I suspect she drove him to the state park and then told the officer he’d been drivin’.”

So she really had set him up.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, starting to sob. “But Paul’s on the warpath and out for blood right now, so if I were you, I’d lay low.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said, but she’d already hung up.

I sat in the chair for several seconds, trying to figure out what to do with the two bombshells that had been dropped in my lap. I couldn’t do much with the confession, but I could talk to Abby. Did I call and confront her? It didn’t seem like a good idea. If she really had killed Heather, then she might run. I needed to wait for Marco.

But it turned out I couldn’t. Much to my surprise, Abby was sitting at the bar when I emerged from the back.

What was she doing here?

I walked behind the bar and ignored Max as I sidled up in front of her. “Hey, Abby,” I said, trying to sound breezy but not entirely sure I was pulling it off. “This is a surprise.”