“It does, Harriett,” Nessa agreed. “As does locking you up for possessing a few mushrooms and making you wait in a moldy cell. I’m sure your lawyer would love to know what probable cause led to the search of your home in the first place.”
“Her husband, Chase Osborne, informed me that she was selling drugs out of their yard.”
Nessa’s jaw dropped at the betrayal, but Harriett took it all in stride.
“Chase is not my husband, and the yard to which he referred is mine. He hasn’t lived in the house for almost a year now. As for my business, all I sell is peace of mind to women who have to deal with sad little men like you and Chase. Since you and my ex-husband seem to be in regular contact, perhaps you can ask him what your future might hold. He’s had a taste of what I can do.”
“Are you threatening me, you fucking witch?” Rocca snarled.
“Fucking witch. You say that as if it’s an insult,” Harriett replied. “For your information, I don’t plan to ever see you again.”
They walked around him to Nessa’s car and climbed inside.
“You’ve become quite a badass, my dear,” Harriett noted as Nessa peeled out of the parking lot. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Harriett reached into her thicket of hair and pulled out a fat joint.
“Harriett, you snuck a joint into jail?” Nessa marveled. “And when the hell did you and Eric start growing shrooms?”
“When I learned they can help treat depression,” Harriett said. “Why obey laws that are in no one’s best interests?”
Nessa wasn’t going to argue. “Well, I don’t know where you hid your stash, but we both know you were lucky as hell they didn’t find it.”
“Yes,” Harriett agreed. “Which means it’s time to celebrate.”
“Put that away until I get you home!” Nessa ordered.
“Only if you agree to give it a try,” Harriett said. “If you like it, I’ll send you off with a thank-you gift. A few puffs before sex, and I swear you’ll see God.”
Nessa glanced over at her. “Fine,” she said, and Harriett cackled in triumph. But when she pulled up in front of Harriett’s house a few minutes later, they found a familiar Mercedes parked in the driveway. Chase Osborne leaned against the trunk, looking pasty and hungover.
“Ugh,” Harriett grumbled at the sight of her guest. “I had a feeling he’d show up. His conscience always briefly kicks in after he does something shitty.”
“Are you going to kill him?” Nessa asked.
“No,” Harriett replied, as though the result wouldn’t be worth the effort. “If I killed people for being morons, I would have murdered Chase years ago.” She opened the door and slid out. “But I’ll give you a shout if I need any help with a body.”
After Nessa drove off, Harriett greeted Chase with all the enthusiasm she would have shown a chin hair. When they’d first met in their twenties, he’d seemed like such a fascinating mystery. Unfortunately, it hadn’t taken long to solve it. By the time they were married, Harriett had realized that everything he did was completely predictable. He valued money, sex, status, and food—in that order. Chase was a very simple creature.
“What in the hell is going on here?” he asked her. “When I pulled up about thirty minutes ago, there were policemen in the garden, and all of them were screaming. Then ambulances arrived and rushed them away.”
“Did any of them go near the compost heap?” Harriett asked.
“Not that I know of,” Chase said.
“Then I forgive you. Go home.”
“I don’t understand. Are you saying this is all my fault somehow?”