“Yes?” Rachel opened the door a little more, and Saga could already see her posture had relaxed from when she first answered.
Avery reached into her coat and produced the black book once more to flash her credentials. “Beg your pardon. Detective Inspector Hemlock, I’m with special investigations. I’ve been looking into Miss LaRosa’s death. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”
It was brief, and likely a trick of the light, but from the corner of her eye, Saga could have sworn Avery had merely held up a notebook. A black leather notebook. Perhaps a few scribbled notes, but nothing more. But the way Rachel acknowledged it with such recognition,respecteven, it couldn’t have been.
“I’m sorry, I’m confused. I thought Val was in a car accident.” Rachel glanced back and forth between the two of them, lingering on Saga quizzically. Saga didn’t blame her. Between her pink hair combined with apersonal style somewhere between glam punk and cozy, her appearance didn’t really communicate any sense of authority, let alone “law enforcement.” Perhaps she should have asked Avery if she could have changed into something more official looking.
Avery gave a meaningful look around the hallway, as if suspicious of nosy neighbors. “Would you mind if we stepped inside?”
Rachel needed no further prodding and immediately stepped back to make room. “Of course.”
Saga followed after Avery, walking through the small entrance to a sitting room illuminated by a tall window on the opposite wall with a grand view of the city. It was beautiful. Impeccably decorated, albeit a bit more monochrome than she cared for. Yet for all its aesthetic, something about it simply felt off. No, not off.Wrong.It was possible the feeling stemmed from the abundant use of pure white, which often reminded her of the hospital. Or perhaps it was a nagging notion that it seemed far too posh for a nurse’s salary. Or her judgment might simply have been clouded by the knowledge that this place very well could hold answers to the mysteries around Valentina LaRosa’s death.
It was at that moment Saga realized she’d not been paying attention to Rachel and Avery, and she raised her pencil and pad to hear the tail end of Avery’s explanation.
“A few key pieces of evidence don’t quite align with the coroner’s initial assessment.”
Rachel’s face crumpled. “What sort of evidence?”
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to share those details.”
“Right, of course,” Rachel acknowledged, her voice sounding weaker. She surveyed around the room helplessly as she stepped farther inside. “Do you need to search the apartment…or…um…”
“We would like to ask you a few questions first, if it is not too much trouble.” Again, Avery’s voice was gentle.
Rachel considered the room again as if it might give her advice on what to do before she sank into a large armchair. “Sure…”
Avery casually took the love seat across from her, giving Saga a look that indicated she shouldn’t follow.
Saga realized that from her position she was out of Rachel’s direct eyeline. It felt vaguely voyeuristic staying where she was.
“How long have you known Miss LaRosa?”
“About four years,” Rachel answered, her arms now around a decorative cushion with tassels. “We’ve been sort of living together for the past two.”
“Sort ofliving together?”
“Val specialized in end-of-life care. A lot of her patients required twenty-four-hour attention. So, unless it was her day off, she’d usually spend most of her days and nights with them.”
“And how long had she been staying with her patients even on her nights off?”
Rachel’s fingers had been playing with one of the terra-cotta tassels in a soothing gesture, but now they froze. Her lower lip quivered before she stammered, “H-how did you…”
“She’d recently been somewhere sunny, but your complexion shows no signs of such a holiday. The doorman mentioned she’d been gone for a few weeks. She also at one point had your name tattooed over her heart.” Avery said this part slowly, watching the other woman very closely. “But it appeared to have been recently modified, and in a hurry. Circumstances would suggest some kind of schism.”
“She changed it?” Rachel asked incredulously.
“It now reads, ‘Rache ist süß.’”
A sardonic laugh escaped the willowy girl. It was a strange, strangled sound, half choked by what might have been a sob fighting its way up her throat. Her eyes were glassy, and her fingertips trembled as they rested over her lips.
Avery spoke her next question very carefully. “Does that mean something to you?”
“Yes, it means something,” Rachel blurted. “It means she was still as immature, impulsive, and reactionary as the day we met. It’s like all senseof logic was poured so intensely into her work that there wasn’t any left for any other part of her life.” She shifted in her seat, leaning forward over the pillow that was now in her lap. “You want to know why she got that tattoo in the first place?”
It was then Saga realized that Rachel had failed to look at her once since they’d sat down—like she’d forgotten she was in an interview and not merely talking to a concerned stranger.
“On our one-year anniversary, we were walking back from dinner, and she saw a parlor open late—she wanted to do something grand to commemorate it.Ideclined—I thought maybe we shouldn’t celebrate with something that could very easily outlast our relationship.” She sighed deeply, losing some of her fire and frustration. “We’d fought that night.” Then, with even more resignation, she added, “We fought a lot of nights.”
