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“The drive to New Brunswick was worth it,” I said, half to myself.
“If you ever get sick of Richmond, there’s a job waiting for you in New York.”
Guess I was doing something right.
7
HALLIE
One glass of wine turned into a bottle, and thank goodness Collier was driving. At eleven thirty, I sat at the table with Charlotte, a large glass of Chardonnay, and a leftover portion of chocolate-orange cheesecake. Collier was over at the bar, chatting with Jenson about sports or cars or whatever it was men discussed at this time in the evening. We’d decided that I should question Charlotte alone. Collier thought she’d be more likely to open up that way.
Of course, the wine she’d been drinking probably helped too, as did the generous tip. Nico wasn’t the type of client who’d nitpick over expenses.
“I was such a bad friend,” she said. “I should have made more time for her, you know?”
“Hey, hey, you did your best.” I grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and passed it to her. “Don’t cry.”
Charlotte wiped her eyes. Twenty minutes in, and the interview had turned into more of a therapy session. She harboured a crap-ton of guilt that she’d spent those final weeks with Jenson instead of Kaylin.
“But us girls should stick together. Sisters before misters.” She gave a slightly hysterical giggle. “Hoes before bros.”
“But she didn’t tell you anything was wrong, did she?”
“No, but I should have realised. She changed.”
“Changed how?”
“Like, she stopped having fun. We used to pick up cheap tickets for shows every few weeks, but she started making excuses. And she used to hike on the weekends, but nuh-uh, not anymore.”
“Where did she used to hike? Central Park?”
Charlotte let fly with a peal of laughter. “No, proper hiking. She used to drive to the Catskills and explore the trails. Before Anisha moved in, Juan had her room—he was an accountant at one of the big firms—and Kaylin used to go with him. I went as well, once, and yeuch…so many bugs. Anyhow, Juan had a near-death experience on the subway one night, and after that, he decided to give up all of his material possessions and go hike the Camino de Santiago. He gave Kaylin a real good deal on the car.”
“I’m surprised she found anywhere to park it.”
Emmy had a parking garage—of course she did—but two women had almost come to blows over a metered parking space on the street outside this morning. Plus the drivers here were terrifying. If I lived in NYC, I wouldn’t have a car.
“She left it at Mrs. Farquarson’s place.”
“Who’s Mrs. Farquarson?”
“She lived two blocks away. And she was, like, ninety years old. Kaylin saved Mrs. F’s dog from being run over when it slipped out of its collar, and Mrs. F let her use the garage as a thank you. I think Mrs. F’s husband was some big shot on Wall Street, and when he passed, she stayed in their brownstone alone. Oh, yeah! There was a note. Kaylin left her a note.”
This was new. “What did the note say?”
“Not much, only that she’d be away for a few weeks. Kaylin got real quiet. Secretive, you know? I should have asked more questions or…or given her more hugs. Both. I should have done both.”
“What do you mean by ‘secretive’?”
“I don’t know, just not as chatty as she used to be. Before, I’d ask her where she was going in the evening, and she’d tell me all about her modelling job or the party she was staffing or the audition she had or her next date, but in those later months, she’d just shrug and say ‘work.’ I mean—and you’re gonna think this is crazy—I began to wonder if she’d gotten involved in something shady.”
Interviewing suspects under the influence was definitely the way to go. Who needed truth serum when a bottle of good vino would do the job perfectly?
“Shady? Can you expand on that?”
“Like, working for an escort agency? Or, uh, running drugs? When I said that to Anisha, she just put on her lawyer voice and told me I didn’t hear anything and I didn’t see anything.” A giggle. “Anisha has a stick up her ass, but don’t tell her I said that.”
I mimed zipping up my mouth and throwing away the key. “My lips are sealed.”
