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Detective Rizzoli was back. Throughthe foyer window, Amy could see her standing at the front door and she wondered why, weeks after they last spoke, she had returned. Perhaps there were some final details to clear up before the case was officially closed, a few lastTs to cross andIs to dot.
Amy opened the door and greeted Jane with a smile. “I didn’t know you’d be coming by today. It’s so nice to see you again.”
“I thought I’d check in to see how you and your mom are doing.”
“We’re fine, thanks to you. We’re both sleeping a lot better now that it’s all over. Please, come in.”
“Your mom around?” Rizzoli asked as she stepped inside.
“She just ran out to get some groceries, but she’ll be back soon. Did you want to talk to her?”
“Yes. And to you too.”
“Let’s go into the kitchen. I was about to make a pot of tea. Would you like some?”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
They went into the kitchen, where Amy put the kettle on. It was something her mother taught her long ago: In the morningyou offer your guest coffee, in the afternoon you offer tea. Either way, you must always offer your visitor something to drink. As Amy waited for the water to boil, she saw Detective Rizzoli type out a text and then take a thoughtful look around the kitchen. It was as if she were seeing it for the first time, although this was certainly not Rizzoli’s first visit to their house. Maybe she was just admiring the stainless steel Sub-Zero refrigerator or the six-burner Viking stove, appliances that her mother was very proud of.
“She’s quite a cook, isn’t she? Your mom.”
“She makes everything from scratch. It’s a point of pride for her,” said Amy, opening up a plastic container of Julianne’s lemon bars.
“How did she learn to cook?”
“I don’t know. She’s just always done it. It’s how she paid the bills when I was a kid. Worked in restaurants, coffee shops.”
“I heard that’s how she met Dr. Antrim. At the café across from the hospital.”
Amy laughed. “I’ve heard that story a thousand times.”
“That was right after you moved to Boston?”
“I was nine years old. We lived in this horrible little apartment in Dorchester back then. Then Mom met Dad and everything changed.” Amy arranged the lemon bars on a pretty china plate and placed them on the table.Presentation is half the appeal,her mother always said.
“Where did you and your mom live before that? Before Boston?”
“A lot of different places. Worcester. Upstate New York.”
“And Vermont. That’s where you were born, isn’t it?”
“Well, I don’t rememberthatfar back.”
“Do you remember living in Maine?”
“We never lived there.” Amy spooned oolong leaves into a teapot, poured in hot water, and left it to steep.
“But you have been there.”
“Once, on vacation. Dad wanted to tour the lighthouses and it rained all week. We’ve never been back.”
They sat at the table for a moment as the kitchen clock ticked and the tea steeped. With all this small talk, it seemed they were just killing time and Detective Rizzoli must really be here to see Julianne. The tea wasn’t quite ready, but she poured it into two cups anyway, slid one to her visitor, and lifted her cup to her lips.
“Before you take a sip of that tea, I need to get a mouth swab from you,” Rizzoli said.
Amy set down her cup and frowned as Rizzoli pulled a swab out of her pocket and uncapped it. “Why? What is that for?”
“It’s just for exclusionary purposes. The knife had blood from more than one individual on it and the lab needs DNA from everyone who was in the cabin.”
