“Get what done?” Patricia asked, looking over G-zee’s kitchen. “Everything looks pretty done to me.”

“We can’t just leave all of this,” Linda waved at G-zee’s body. “We’ve got to get rid of the evidence.”

Patricia snorted. “What evidence? This guy lives out in the middle of nowhere in a place that looks already abandoned. You really think anyone’s going to come looking for him?”

“He works at a grocery store every Wednesday and Saturday. Today is Friday.”

“Oh right,” Patricia sighed. “He was so level-headed like that.”

Linda shook her head and began to look through the cupboards and cabinets.

“Right, we should eat something before we get to it,” Patricia said, limp-dragging herself to the fridge. 

“I’m looking for towels,” Linda hissed.

“Oh thank god,” Patricia said, falling back onto the floor. “There was no way in hell I could actually eat anything right now!”

“Did he say anything about cleaning materials while you were … hanging out?”

“We were fucking, Linda. We were one-hundred percent in the middle of a bang-o-rang when you walked in and popped his head like a zit.”

Linda cringed with Patricia’s vile words. “I didn’t pop his head.”

“Linda, honey, listen. You walked in, ruined my session, got me shot in the leg and then shot G-zee in the head.”

Linda’s stomach clenched and she felt the beads gathering at her receding hairline once again. She looked down at her shoes and began to count the stains from the day’s work. She would have a busy time cleaning them. And she would need new pantyhose. Likely, she would need to burn the entirety of her outfit, since blood was quite splattered on it. 

“Hey, hey Linda,” Patricia snapped her fingers, breaking Linda from her escape. “Think we can find something for me first? I know it’s just a graze, but it hurts like hell and while this kitchen isn’t too shabby, if I go anywhere else in this shit-hole I’ll probably, no, definitely get it all infected and shit. Might put a damper on your bra hunt, you know?”

Linda pulled off her cardigan and, using her teeth, ripped away snatches of fabric that hadn’t been stained. A few of the swatches she soaked with water in the sink and brought these back to Patricia. 

And that was when she realized that Patricia was still pretty much naked. “Um.”

“I know, I’m gorgeous when in the nude,” Patricia said, leaning back to strike a courtesan’s pose. “C’mon, Linda, don’t be such a prude.”

Linda gritted her teeth. She wanted to argue that she was not being a prude, was just mindful of other’s privacy. But she knew that would lead back to Patricia reminiscing about her time as a nudist, and Linda had heard enough about that back at the bank. “Why was he saying pineapple?”

Patricia started, she had thought Linda would block out all of that. “It was the safe word we had chosen, right before we were getting it on. What can I say, I like a little kinky time in the kitchen, and you gotta be safe with that kind of stuff, or you could end up shot, apparently.”

“But you were ignoring him.” Linda pointed out.

The wound on Patricia’s thigh was shallow but looked worse for the swelling that would no doubt turn into a deep bruise later. Linda was pleased to see her hands weren’t shaking and the sickly heat in her body had dissipated with the soothing action of cleaning Patricia’s thigh.

“Yeah, well, the guy was a killer. He raped a bunch of people, and so I thought it was kind of fair to put him in their places.”

“You’re a vigilante?”

“No? I’m Patricia?” She said, enunciating each word slowly.

Linda looked up at Patricia, one of her slim eyebrows arched in a classic manner of exasperation and I’m-not-falling-for-your-bullshit.

“Listen, I do what I do, and you do what you can do about it.” Patricia took the rest of the rags from Linda and washing off the rest of herself.

Linda recognized the line from a rap song but decided against bringing up the knowledge to Patricia. 

“Is that why we’re getting my bra back?” Linda asked, leaning back on her knees as she held the dry rags out towards Patricia. “Do you plan on getting some sort of revenge on Bea— the robbers?”

Patricia swung to face Linda, her face a-glitter with knowledge. “I knew it! You knew that one guy, didn’t you? That’s why he wanted your bra, wasn’t it?”

“I gave him a name to help me process my grief over the whole robbery,” Linda’s voice was deadpan and almost believable. “The therapist recommended it.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Patricia laughed, tying up her wound. “You never went to the therapist and I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t recommend that.”

“You are wrong,” Linda insisted

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Patricia said, struggling up. “But I know you’re lying, and you know I’m annoying. What you don’t know is how annoying I can be when I’m trying to get the truth from someone, but you’re gonna find out real quick.”

“Let’s just focus on cleaning up,” Linda’s voice was about as stiff as her posture.

“We can just leave it,” Patricia limped over to the other side of the counter, picking up her clothes from the pile on the floor. “No one’s going to notice he’s missing until Wednesday, it’s Sunday so we’ve got time on our side for that.”

Linda’s nose wrinkled. She could already imagine the sort of decomposing G-zee would go through, and with the heat of the summer, the reek would be nauseating. Her throat tightened as a memory flashed before her and she once again smelt the wretched tang of a rotting corpse.

“They can still pull the forensic details from him, your DNA is all over the place and on him. . .”Linda’s breath became too hot and too fast as she began to think of all the ways they could be implicated in G-zee’s obvious murder.

Patricia clapped her hand around Linda’s shoulder, “They’re not going to.”

“Yes, they will.”

“Nah.”

“Patricia, you can’t just will this away and sneak by like it didn’t happen, the man is dead for God’s sake and you … you did things!”

“I only got halfway to fucking him, Linda, and I’m not sneaking away, I’m burning this goddamned house to the ground.”

“Wait, what?”