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Toni is the strongest person I know. She doesn’t cry or shout or even get moody. She is in absolute control. All the time. And, so, as she falls apart in front of us, her entire body shaking with sobs, none of us moves to help her. We are all so astounded that the three of us—Lyla, Jules, and I—simply stand mute and watch her fall.
It is Detective Sanchez who silently moves forward to lift her to her feet and gently guide her over to the sofa.
After a moment, Jules follows. “Here,” she passes him a piece of paper, “Elizabeth’s parents’ address. I don’t have any phone numbers.”
He glances at it. “Colorado?”
“From what I know, they moved about seven years ago. But they hadn’t seen Lizzie since she was a teenager.”
“Thank you.” We all wait expectantly as he shifts from foot to foot. “I’m very sorry to ask at a time like this…”
“What is it?” Jules coaxes.
“This is the number of the officer in charge of the investigation—Lieutenant Flint. As Ms. York’s roommates, any information you could provide us with would be extremely helpful. At some point in the next few days, we’ll also have to go through her belongings.”
We all look to Toni. She is sitting on the sofa, her body shuddering as she fights to regain control. Her eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, stare blankly down at the carpet.
Again, it is Jules who takes charge. “Yes, we’ll call him right away and come down whenever he needs us to.”
“Thank you.” He nods his head and puts his hat back on, his eyes softening. “We’re just obtaining information about the victim at this point.”
“Thank you.” Jules follows him to the door and shows him out.
My mind is a warren of jumbled thoughts.Lizzie is deadresounds through them all.
“Fuck.” Lyla’s voice breaks through the quiet.
As if it’s only just hitting her, Juliette places her palm on her forehead and exhales. “Oh, my God. What-”
“Calm down.”
We all turn back to Toni. Her classically beautiful face could be sculpted from stone just then—nothing, no sadness, fear or regret leaks through, and, while the traces of her tears are obvious in her red, puffy eyes, everything else about her is carefully controlled. Posture—perfect. Hands—loosely folded in her lap. Legs—crossed at the knee.
“What do we do?” Jules asks. “Should we go through her things? Take out the contracts and-”
“No. We don’t touch anything.” Toni’s voice is calm. “We are not suspects, andifthey decide to search the house, anything they find in her room might help.”
“Help?” Juliette asks, her dark eyes wide.
“The police don’t filter through dead people’s belongings unless there’s an open investigation.”
“Are you saying she was…” I can’t even voice the word.
“We’ll know more later.” She makes eye contact with each of us in turn. “Ladies, we operate in the margins. But you have to remember that everything we do istechnicallylegal.”
“Except for the sex part.”
Lyla’s joke pulls a nervous giggle from deep in my chest.
Toni ignores her comment. “Do you remember the dos and don’ts of talking to law enforcement?”
We nod in sync.
She moves towards the stairs. “I’m going to have Joan sit in with us anyway. If you’re unsure about anything,” she looks at us each in turn, “anythingat all, defer to her.”
She takes the business card from Jules and starts up the stairs, her long legs taking them two at a time. As soon as she disappears on the landing, we all turn and look at each other.
I can see my emotions—shock, anger, and relief—reflected on Lyla and Jules’s faces. None of us seems to know what to say. A long moment passes.
