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CONSPIRACY
I sit quietly, sipping a glass of water as Vivian makes a grilled cheese sandwich and cuts it into tiny squares the way Victory likes it. I stare out the double glass doors at the glittering blue waters of the infinity pool, thinking all variety of dark thoughts as the most important females in my life chatter, light and happy, like two budgies.
After her snack Victory runs off to the elaborate playroom they keep for her here, and Vivian sits down at the table across from me. She folds her arms on the table in front of her and waits. I tell her everything.
When I’m done, I look at her and see that she has hung her head. She raises her eyes to me after a moment, and they are filled with tears.
“Annie, I’m so sorry.”
I lean forward. “Why, Vivian? Why are you sorry?”
“Oh, God,” she says. That look is back, but it’s here to stay. Then, “Annie, there was no body. Marlowe Geary’s body was
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