Mimi made herself laugh.
“Tell me about Leila,” I said.
Mimi took a deep breath, her bloodshot eyes fixed on some far-off spot. “She was an unusual kid. She had strange interests for a girl.” She coughed. “God, that sounded sexist. I think I’ve been hanging around Mrs. Dorsey for too long.”
“How was Leila unusual?”
“She was kind of a nerd, I guess. She and her father were both Trekkies. Serious Trekkies. They watched the shows, of course. They both collected memorabilia. They went to conventions together. They even talked about getting jobs as extras on one of the spin-offs. I think Bill was just saying that to humor her, but still.”
“That’s hardcore.”
“Very,” Mimi said. “Her sister. She lives in Hawaii, but she’s on her way out here. When the two of them were growing up, Carolyn was more like me—sporty, social. No cultlike obsessions. But Leila wanted more than anything to be a crew member on theEnterprise. It’s what made her decide to start writing.”
“Star Trekmade her want to write?”
“Yes,” Mimi said. “First it wasStar Trekfan fiction. Then she started writing novels of her own. Sci-fi. Her dad loved these novels. He read them all. I couldn’t get through a single chapter.”
I took another sip of my tea. I wanted to ask her what all this had to do with where Leila’s money came from. I was hoping I’d find out. If there was one thing I’d learned from questioning the parents of murder victims, it was that this type of overwhelming grief could take strange turns. Parents often went through their children’s entire histories in order to get to the point, if there even was a point. A lot of times, it was just a way to keep them alive for a few moments longer. “Did Leila ever publish any of the sci-fi books?” I asked.
She shook her head. “They had a very small audience. Her friends and her father. She was happy with that.” Over the blue monitor, a character with a high-pitched British accent was talking about a new baby sister. Tommy started to laugh. Mimi smiled. Her eyes sparkled. A tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away.
“Where is Leila’s dad now?” I said.
“Bill passed away ten years ago. Heart attack. Leila was justtwenty-one. She took it very, very hard. Her sister was no longer living at home, so it was the two of us for a little while. I tried to bond with her. I even suggested these damn matching tattoos.” She rubbed the flower on her arm.
“I noticed. It’s pretty.”
“It’s a sweet william. For my Bill. Our Bill.”
“That’s nice,” I said.
“I thought so,” she said.
“Must have made Leila feel better.”
“Maybe for a day,” she said. “She just wasn’t the same. She dropped out of community college, and she moved to New York. She had it in her head that she was going to publish those sci-fi books to honor her dad’s memory, and that New York was the place for her toget seenas an author. I told her she needed more of a game plan than that. She said she had her mind made up and she was an adult and could do whatever she chose. She didn’t want to hear anything I had to say.”
“That must have been frustrating.”
“It was.” She sighed. “You know that Instagram of mine that you found?”
“Yes?”
“I made it when Leila moved out to New York, so I could follow her on social media. She didn’t post very often, but at least I could see her face.”
I winced. I was sure I’d tortured my mother over the years, but not like that. “New York is so expensive,” I said. “How was she surviving?”
“I heard through mutual friends that she was staying withsome rich boy she’d met at one of those conventions. But she had a falling-out with him.”
“What about?”
“He ran with a rough crowd. Bragged about burglarizing a mansion in Southampton when he was seventeen and spending the money on drugs. He scared Leila, I think.”
“Boy, Trekkies have changed.”
“I thought the same thing,” she said. “Anyway, I guess I should have been grateful to this rich kid, because she got disgusted enough with him to move out of his place, and that’s when she called me. I helped her find a new apartment. A studio in Queens. She managed to get a job waiting tables. It paid her rent. Barely.”
“Was she happy?”
