over the place looking for me," she said. "People will
 
 forget or want to forget, especially after my mother
 
 moves away."
 
 "How can you be so sure she will?"
 
 She smiled. "I know my mother. Believe me,
 
 she's not going to be happy wallowing in this too
 
 long. She's very aware of how people, especially men,
 
 look at her. What available unmarried man is going to
 
 want to get seriously involved with a woman whose
 
 daughter is being hunted by the police for killing her
 
 husband? Someday, years and years from now, I'll
 
 ring her doorbell wherever she is and give her a heart
 
 attack," she said.
 
 "You mean it?"
 
 "Not really a heart attack. She'll be so shocked
 
 she might faint, but that's all. She'll have to take me
 
 in, give me money, do whatever I want her to do to
 
 help me, or I'll tell her new husband everything. I'm
 
 sure whomever she meets will not know the story. My
 
 mother is an expert when it comes to hiding the truth.
 
 You know that."
 
 "I don't know that."
 
 "What do you mean, you don't?" she snapped at
 
 me. "I've told you everything, how she's buried her
 
 head in the sand, how she did the same thing with my
 
 real father. I've told you."
 
 "Oh, yes, you have," I said.
 
 She relaxed, looked at herself in the mirror, and
 
 then glanced at me. "You know, if we had gone
 
 through with our plan exactly as you suggested, you