AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“The drugs thing is probably kinda farfetched because Kaylin wouldn’t even smoke weed, but the escort thing? She changed the way she dressed, now that I think about it. She always used to be pink and girly, but there were all these designer bags in her room, and her closet was full of boring black shift dresses and those shoes with the red bottoms. Christian Louis…Louba…”
“Louboutin?” I supplied as Charlotte drank more wine.
“Yes, those. Kaylin always used to like fancy stuff, but she was real careful with her money. Most of the time, she bought consignment store clothes and knockoff designer purses, and if she couldn’t afford something, she used to make it. That trend for the purses with the giant flowers? She made one for each of us—her, me, and Anisha. Although Anisha wasn’t always a fan of the arts and crafts. One time, Kaylin made this costume for an audition, a corset and a mask with feathers and jewels, and there were bits of feather floating around everywhere. I had to buy Anisha a six-pack of lint rollers because she was giving Mrs. Grumpy Pants a run for her money.”
“Mrs. Grumpy Pants?”
“Our upstairs neighbour.”
I was so grateful the apartment building I lived in had great soundproofing. That was important when you had a parrot who loved to curse—loudly—and rehash a murder he’d once overheard. No kidding. Emmy had tracked down the culprit, though, so it was all good.
“So Kaylin liked to live a champagne lifestyle on a Prosecco budget?”
Charlotte snort-laughed and quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. “Yup, and she always volunteered to work the fancy parties so she could hang out with the rich folks. But the shoes were real, the Louba-whatsits. I pawned some of them to pay the rent after Kaylin disappeared, and honestly, I still feel so guilty about that, but I couldn’t afford to cover her share and I figured we could un-pawn them when she came back, but she never did.”
Fancy parties? Now, that was interesting. Very interesting. Money and secrecy went hand in hand, and if Kaylin had found herself a sugar daddy, it might explain why the cops hadn’t been able to follow her trail. What it didn’t explain was why she’d been hiding at a motel in Virginia.
“In those final weeks, she always said she was working? Did she go on any dates?”
“Uh…” Charlotte pressed her hands to her temples, thinking. “No? At least I’m almost sure she didn’t.”
“What about auditions?”
“Nuh-uh. She used to practise her songs in the bathroom before auditions—good acoustics, she said—and Mrs. Grumpy Pants always complained to the landlord. And because the lease was in my name, he’d call me, and then I’d have to call Kaylin and remind her to keep the volume down because Mrs. G was moaning again.”
“And your neighbour didn’t complain in the weeks prior to Kaylin’s disappearance?”
“Radio silence. The apartment was a dump, but the landlord lived out of state and he mostly left us alone unless Mrs. G whined about some dumb thing.”
So, no dates and no auditions. Charlotte was right—there had definitely been a change in Kaylin’s lifestyle, and now I had a new theory to work on. A mystery man we had to identify.
“How did Kaylin arrange dates? Did she hook up with men she met in bars? Or through work? Or did she use apps?”
“Oh, she used apps. Swipe left, swipe left, swipe left. Ninety percent of those assholes lie, did you know that? Say they’re thirty, and they’re fifty. Say they work in medicine, and they’re a janitor at the hospital. Say they’re single, and they have a wife and three kids.”
She sounded as if she spoke from experience. “You used to use apps as well?”
“Yup, but I met Jenson on the subway. The train broke down, and he gave me his bottle of water.” Charlotte turned toward the bar and blew him a kiss. He formed his fingers into a heart shape and grinned at her. “Isn’t he the sweetest?”
“He seems like a good guy.”
“And he can cook so well too. That’s what sealed the deal. One time, I went home with a guy who had scorch marks on the wall in his kitchen, and he offered to make me breakfast, but I was like, ‘Nope, gotta go.’ Kaylin could cook okay, though. She didn’t need a chef. Or a somma…sommlee…the wine guy.” Charlotte waved at her husband. “Honey, we need more wine.”
Jenson Peak left his spot behind the bar and strolled over to us. Everything I’d seen of him tonight suggested that he was indeed sweet. When the two of them were in the same room, he kept looking over at Charlotte with the tenderest of glances, almost as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck.
“Nah, babe. You don’t need more wine.”
She craned her neck up to look at him and nearly fell off her chair. Oops.
“Just a small glass?”
“We need to get you home.”
“What about the clean-up? The kitchen?”
“All done.”
“Aww, you’re the bestest hubby in the world.”
