The confused look didn’t clear.
‘Your roommate? Alexis?’
‘I don’t have a roommate,’ the girl said. ‘This is a private room.’ The suggestion that she might have a roommate had offended her. Her chin came up, and her mouth turned down at the corners. Judith took a half-step forward. She looked over the girl’s head into the room beyond. It was a standard single dorm room; one bed, a desk. The bed had pretty, matching bedlinen. The desk had a large, expensive-looking computer screen and a docking station for a laptop. There were K-pop posters on the wall, and a door that opened into a small ensuite. What there wasn’t was a second bed.
Shit.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Sophie Nguy?n.’
‘Sophie. Nguy?n.’ Judith took out her phone and made a note.
Straight away, the girl looked pissed off.
‘What about your neighbours, Sophie? Who lives in those rooms?’
‘I... I’m sorry. Who are you? Do you even have permission to be here?’
Judith flashed her badge.
‘You’re a cop?’ Sophie sounded disbelieving.
There was no uniform for homicide detectives, but there was a dress code. Detectives were supposed to maintain a professional and disciplined appearance. Judith found that she was usually able to get away with black jeans and a plain black T-shirt, as long as she kept a jacket or a blazer handy for those moments where she was under scrutiny. When she left the station, nine times out of ten it was in her leather jacket. Judith’s best friend told her that she treated the jacket like a comfort blanket. Katy said that with the jacket, Judith’s gym addiction, and the buzz cut, most of the time she looked more like a jacked, angry Sinéad O’Connor than a detective. Katy had a way with words.
‘I’m a cop. A detective.’
‘So... what... you investigate crimes and stuff? Like murders?’ Sophie took a breath, and then, in a little rush, said, ‘Or do you just, like, oppress ordinary people in their own homes?’
Judith ignored the question. ‘So your neighbours?’
‘There’s no Alexis. Not on this floor. If that’s all...’ Sophie started to close the door.
‘This is the second floor. I’m in the right place. How long have you lived here, Sophie?’
‘I’ve already answered your question, okay? Maybe you should talk to my lawyer if you want to ask me anything more.’
Judith wanted to roll her eyes. ‘Do you have a lawyer?’
The chin came up again. ‘My dad has.’
‘Your dad has a criminal lawyer on retainer?’
‘Not a criminal lawyer. For contracts and... stuff.’ Sophie let her voice trail off as her cheeks reddened. Judith could almost see her mind working. She’d wanted to be able to tell all her friends how she’d given shit to a cop, but it wasn’t quite going the way she’d wanted.
Judith put her phone away. ‘Thanks for your time.’ She started to walk away, her brain replaying her interview with Alexis in her head. There might have been an innocent explanation for the disconnected phone number, but there was no innocent explanation for the incorrect address. Alexis clearly hadn’t wanted Judith to be able to contact her. Why?
Judith was halfway down the corridor when Sophie called after her.
‘Is it about that guy?’
Judith stopped.
‘Which guy?’
‘The guy at the clinic.’
Judith walked back to the apartment.
