Errol finished his story as the long, long night talking to Preston finally drew to a close. The notepad Preston had recorded the tale in was full, and the ashtray had cigarettes spilling over the sides. Claudette had her head on the table, and for a moment, Errol wondered if she had fallen asleep.
​
Taking a deep puff on his cigarette, Preston said, “And?”
​
Exasperated, Errol retorted, “‘And’ what? I’ve told you everything. Marigold’s innocent. But I don’t know where she is.”
​
Preston nodded. Errol, arms crossed, tapped his fingers. Did Preston believe his story? Preston’s blank expression gave nothing away. Errol flicked his antennae. He hoped Preston believed it.
​
Preston scratched some final notes in his notepad and mumbled around his cigarette, “She claims she’s innocent.”
​
Errol and Claudette glared at him. Errol snapped, “She is!”
​
Preston shrugged and puffed on his cigarette. “She’s got quite the motive,” he pointed out. “An annoying in-law, an inattentive husband…and all we’ve got right now is your story.” He tilted his head. “Did Marigold destroy Othmer’s notes?”
​
That was a question Errol hadn’t expected. He and Claudette exchanged a glance. How would anybody know unless they went to check? The house was desolate now, and Errol figured it would remain that way forever. He certainly had no plans to ever return. Anyway, those unruly flowers would just make him sneeze.
​
Preston nodded, though he didn’t look satisfied with their silence. “I’ll talk with the authorities,” he stated. “We’ll send somebody out there to look it over.”
​
Who gave Preston the authority to investigate Othmer and Marigold’s house? Errol narrowed his eyes at Preston and let out a snort. Preston was irritating and pompous, but Errol could easily picture him ordering all of Pine Hollow around to do his bidding, or answer any question he shoved their way.
​
After a pause, Preston tilted his head and waved his hand, indicating that Errol and Claudette were dismissed. “You both may go. I have all the information from you two I need.”
​
Relief and exhaustion washed over Errol. Time to finally leave this stuffy office, he thought. Errol and Claudette filed their way out to the entrance. Preston called after them, “Don’t worry. We’ll get cops and detectives out there to track her down.”
​
Errol wiped the door knob off with his handkerchief before opening it. He and Claudette put on their coats and hats as Preston added, “If you find out anything about her whereabouts, let me know!”
​
Claudette tossed her hair behind her and stormed outside, ignoring Preston.
​
Errol turned to leave, grunting, “If you really do go to the Wilts’ house, just burn it down.” And with that, Errol left, slamming the door behind him.
​
Outside, Errol tugged at his coat collar and sniffed. “He’s an idiot.”
​
​Claudette nodded in agreement.
​
The sun was peeking over the horizon. The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle. The buildings shone with fresh water, and droplets glistened on the tree leaves. Errol sighed. It seemed so peaceful, but he knew that down the street and to the left, Othmer’s body was lying in a gooey, inky heap. After photographs had been taken of the crime scene, Cloyce’s body had been carted away, but nobody really knew how to remove Othmer’s body. It had cemented itself to the dirt ground of the alley and peeling it away had proved to be quite a hassle. Errol didn’t want to think about it.
​
The dawn light warmed Errol. He closed his eyes. He opened them to see Claudette squinting into the light. She let out a loud yawn. “Guess I’ll see you at work in a few hours?” she mumbled.
​
“We’re taking the day off. Maybe the month.”
​
Errol and Claudette gazed at each other for a minute. Claudette gave Errol a hug. He hugged her back. So much had happened in the past few weeks, and now, three toons who Errol had known for a very long time were gone forever. The thought that Othmer and Marigold were somehow back at the factory flitted in Errol’s mind. He shook the thought away. He’d never work with them again. He watched Claudette head home. They waved, and she disappeared around a corner. Errol sighed. He didn’t want to be alone, but part of him knew that he and Claudette needed some time apart to process what had transpired in that alley. He pointed his nose to the sky and closed his eyes. The last few raindrops cooled his forehead and slipped down his face as he remembered…
​
The image of Marigold in the alley flashed in his mind. He could see each stain in her dress with clarity, and see Claudette kneeling on the ground. Marigold shook her head and whispered, “I can’t say here.”
​
Errol gasped, “Don’t say that!”
​
Marigold turned away. Claudette reached for her hand.
​
“Please, Marigold. We’ll prove you’re innocent!” Claudette begged.
Marigold shook her head, murmuring, “It’s for the best if I leave. There’s no way anyone else will believe me. I’ll wind up in prison.” She cast Othmer a sad look. “I don’t want to be reminded about certain things ever again.”
​
Thunder rumbled. Marigold looked at the sky, hugging herself and muttering, “The future’s going to be very difficult for me, that’s for sure.”
​
Errol thought he saw tears on Claudette’s face. When she spoke her voice was quiet but clear. “Where will you go?”
​
“I don’t know,” Marigold answered, staring at the distant trees. “I might head north, and stay along the coastline.”
​
Noises from the street startled her. Marigold ran out of the alley, Errol and Claudette reaching for her. Marigold called, “Goodbye, Errol. Bye, Claudette. I’ll never forget either of you, I promise.”
​
Errol and Claudette shouted, “Wait!” and “Marigold!” respectively, but she didn’t acknowledge them. She swirled around the corner and out of the alley, without sparing a glance at them. Errol and Claudette huddled together. A swarm of toons filled the alley and crowded in the tiny space.
​
A well-dressed mosquito barreled his way to Errol and Claudette as pandemonium broke out around them. “What is all this?” the mosquito demanded. He gestured to the bodies of Othmer and Cloyce. “And who are they?”
​
“The one in the vest is Cloyce Russey,” Errol sighed. “The other one is his cousin.”
​
“Cousin?” The mosquito echoed. “What’s his name? Who is he?”
​
Errol stared at the bodies, bitterness tainting his voice, “An idiot who should’ve kept his mind focused on his job. He…he was one of my best friends.”
​
Far off into the woods, a lone beetle stood on the top of a hill. From her vantage point she could see all of Pine Hollow, even the alley where her husband, his cousin, and friends were. She gazed at the sky as the rain pelted her face. She strained to see the stars, then gave up.
​
Habit made her turn to go down the path to her house, but she stopped herself. There was no home, no co-workers, no factory, no in-law, and no husband to return to. She had lost everything.
​
The rain streamed down faster now. Casting the alley one last glance, she vanished into the forest, heading for the coast, and toward her new beginning.