Page 1 of The Star in Room 7

1

ZACH

She was in my apartment. I can smell her perfume. It’s everywhere. Sweet and cloying. I can’t look anywhere without seeing a trace of her. The meal she cooked, now cold. The dishes she left in the sink. The trail of rose petals leading toward the bedroom. My bedroom. I don’t want to go in there.

“I’m not even into girls,” I mutter, realizing, too late, that Officer Vale is standing within earshot of where I’m sitting on the sofa. Couch. That’s what they call them here. I wipe my hands over my face. “I shouldn’t have said that,” I whisper.

“You’re not out?” Vale asks casually.

He’s tall and balder than I’d expect of a guy who can’t be older than forty. He was taking notes, purposefully not crowding me while his partner was doing what I can’t bring myself to do: look around my apartment. Are they looking for evidence? Dusting for prints? My knowledge of cops and police comes from TV shows and films. There were more here earlier. Two other guys, at least. They took her away. I shouldn’t be this much of a wreck when I know they have her in custody. Right now, I have to convince myself to answer the cop’s question.

“I’m not…” I can’t deny it now, so I press my lips together and shake my head.

Vale crouches, so he’s no longer towering over me. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to anyone. It’s no one’s business but yours.”

I blink at him. He’s been kind so far. He’s the one who took my statement, and the one who’s stayed with me and tried to keep me calm. “Thank you.” I stare at my hands. “She kept calling me Chase.”

He makes a note. “Any idea why?”

I smile weakly. “That’s the name of the character I played. I’m an actor.” I’d already mentioned that, hadn’t I? The last hour or so is a blur. I can’t remember what I have and haven’t said.

He gestures at my apartment walls, which are covered in film posters. “And a movie fan, by the looks of it.”

“Yes.”

Has he seen my film? I doubt it was even a blip on his radar. I wish it hadn’t been a blip on hers, either. I shudder, stand, and pace around the tiny living space, rubbing my thumb over the back of my other hand. The walls feel like they’re closing in on me. The apartment is so stuffy. Her perfume is too strong.

“I can’t stay here.”

“Do you have anywhere else to go?” Vale asks.

I shake my head.

“You’re British?”

I force a smile. “The accent gives it away, huh?”

He chuckles and scratches his cheek. “Yup. Do you have any family nearby?”

“Not unless you count five and a half thousand miles as nearby.”

“That must be tough.”

“It was okay until…” I shudder.

“I get that. She’s on her way to the precinct with my colleagues. She can’t hurt you now. Friends?”

“Umm… A few. No one I know really well.” No one I’d be able to impose on.

“I’ve got one or two more questions. Do you feel up to answering them? I can wait, if not. Would a glass of water help?”

“No. I’m okay. What do you need to know?”

He watches me for a moment, as if trying to decide if I really am okay or not. Eventually, he asks, “How long has she been contacting you?”

“I’m not sure exactly. I think she sent letters first. Fan mail. Her perfume is familiar.” I go to the TV console, crouch down, open the drawer, and pull out a wad of letters and postcards that I’d kept separate once I realized they were being sent by one person. I was right—they reek of her perfume, too. I hand them over to Officer Vale. “There might have been more.” I rub the back of my hand against my forehead. “I didn’t take it seriously at first. I thought she was just an overenthusiastic fan.” I was so stupid.

He flicks through the pile. “That’s understandable. It would be easy to think that, especially at the start. Did you report any of these to the cops?”