by Nic Joseph
“Have you ever done something like this before?” Emma asked me.
“No, I haven’t,” I said. “But I’m excited to learn more about the line. I think, if done right, the paintings could—”
I was halfway through the sentence when Patrick said something across the table to Andrew, and they both laughed. It was something about the food, and I raised my voice a little to finish the conversation with Emma. But she’d turned to answer a question from Beverly, and suddenly, I was talking to no one, finishing my sentence only because it seemed silly to stop halfway through.
“—serve as a great complement to the clothes,” I said quietly. I looked up to see that Joshua was watching me with a slight smirk on his face as if he enjoyed seeing my discomfort.
“I’m listening,” he said softly with a wink.
The rest of the dinner was filled with several more awkward moments, and I wondered why Emma had invited me. Maybe she was just feeling in a good mood the other day and regretted the invitation this morning. Maybe she hadn’t expected me to actually accept the last-minute invitation. I reached out and finished my glass of wine, smiling and nodding as one of the servers appeared to offer me some more.
By the end of dinner, I was feeling a lot better, thanks in large part to the three glasses of wine I’d consumed since I’d arrived. I wasn’t alone in my revelry—the entire table, it seemed, was talking and laughing much louder than they had only an hour or so ago.
“I’m going outside for a smoke,” I heard someone say at the far end of the table, and then Beverly stood and stepped around the table.
“I’ll join you,” I heard Meggie say, and the two women walked toward the kitchen. A moment later, I heard the sound of the patio door slide open. Emma stood and walked over to talk to the women from the catering company, who were packing up some of their bags. Patrick and Andrew were deep in conversation at my side, discussing something about real estate.
That left Joshua, who was staring at me from across the table. To avoid any more awkward conversation, I pretended to be listening to Patrick and Andrew, even though they barely seemed to notice that Joshua and I were still sitting there.
I continued to avoid the store owner’s leering gaze and then finally stood and excused myself.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, deliberately looking at Patrick and Andrew, who nodded briefly and then jumped back into their conversation.
The wine made me sway, and I paused for a minute before hurrying off toward the bathroom. As I walked, I looked down the hall and saw that there were two more closed doors, one of which had to be the master bedroom.
I was about to step into the bathroom when I heard someone speak behind me.
“Hey.”
I turned to see Meggie standing there.
“I thought you said you were doing some drawings for my sister’s apartment!”
“That’s what I thought at first,” I said. “Turns out she meant portraits of the models of Allure. For the launch.” I peered out into the living room. “You didn’t mention Emma was your sister.”
“I didn’t feel I needed to,” she snapped, and then she took a deep breath. “Sorry. Look, Patrick and I were just gossiping a little the other day. You know what I mean. Obviously, my sister has done a lot for me, so I’d appreciate if you don’t talk about—”
“Oh, of course,” I said. “I would never.”
She nodded. “Good. In fact, no need for either of us to bring up that we’ve met before. Thanks,” she said before spinning on her heel and walking away.
I stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind me.
Don’t forget why you came here tonight.
I just needed a few minutes alone with Emma to talk to her. To tell her that she shouldn’t give up ownership of her business for Ryan Asshole Hooks. I washed my hands, then opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out.
I couldn’t see anyone from the hallway, but I could still hear Patrick and Andrew talking from the dinner table. On a whim, I squared my shoulders and then took off down the hallway toward one of the closed doors. Pushing it open, I looked inside, my heart racing. It was a beautifully decorated room, with lavender accents on dark, wood furniture. I walked around for a few moments, but there were no pictures, no papers, nothing that would prove that Ryan Hooks had ever been there. I knew I was pushing my luck, so I turned and walked quickly toward the bedroom door. Stepping out and closing it behind me, I moved quickly down the hall back toward the living room. I’d almost made it back to the bathroom when Joshua appeared, moving in my direction. He frowned when he saw me.
“Doing okay?” he asked, looking curiously behind me to see where I was coming from.
I smiled. “Uh, yeah,” I said, floundering for a reason why I was at the wrong end of the hallway. I looked over to see that the bathroom door was closed again and thought quickly.
“I was looking for another bathroom,” I said with a shrug. “You know, all that white wine.”
The door opened just then, and Bev walked out. She looked at us both with a frown and then walked past us.
Joshua watched her walk away and then turned back to me.
“I’ll let you go first then,” he said, stepping back to let me go in. “Then come back out and join the party.”
• • •
I was sitting on the couch when I saw Emma walking toward me holding two glasses of wine. She held one out, and I took it as she slumped onto the couch.
“I’m exhausted,” she said, and then she turned to me with a smile. “I’m so glad you came and stayed.”
“Oh, no problem,” I said. “It’s actually been really fun.”
“How is your husband?” she asked, sitting up.
I don’t know why I was surprised by the fact that she remembered, but I felt a wave of emotion suddenly rush over me. “He’s doing okay,” I said. “Thank you.”
“You know,” she said, “I know it might sound weird, but the day we talked in the park, I felt like we had a lot in common. There was just something about you. And honestly, I could use some good friends in my life right now.”
“You seem like you have a lot of friends,” I said, gesturing around the apartment. “Well, good close friends, at least. Those are hard to come by.”
“Friends, acquaintances, business partners,” she said, shrugging. “Sometimes it all blends together.”
I didn’t know what she meant, but I nodded. I shifted in my seat as a thought came to me.
Maybe this was my chance.
“What about the guy you were telling me about the other day?” I asked, and I tried to keep my voice as innocent as possible.
Not too excited but interested.
She smiled, a deep, full smile that reached her eyes. “It was instant with him too. It used to be that I only felt like I could be myself when I was completely alone, like I had to put on a mask if there was anyone else around. But with him, it’s not just that I can be myself. Sometimes I feel like I’m more the real me when he’s around than when I’m alone. If that doesn’t sound completely desperate.” She laughed. “Who am I kidding? Of course it does.”
I smiled. “It doesn’t,” I said softly.
She blinked a few times and then reached up and grabbed at her eye. “Oh goodness, looks like someone’s had too much wine,” she said with a sniffle and then pulled something away from her face. I was surprised to see that her eyes were red and she was holding a long, feathery strip of fake eyelashes in her hand.
“You know it’s a good party when you’ve cried your lashes off,” I said.
She laughed again. “Damn right.”
I took a deep breath. “Can I ask—why wasn’t he here tonight?”
She blinked and looked up at me. “Oh, um…he’s super busy…with work and everything,” she said. She leaned forward. “But he’s taking some time
off next month, and we’re going on a little trip.”
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To Sonoma. He has a little villa out there. We’re just going for a long weekend, but I can’t wait.”
“That sounds great,” I said with a smile.
And as I sat there watching her hold her eyelashes between her fingertips and talking to me as if we’d been friends for years, I felt a wave of guilt rush over me.
I cleared my throat.
Now or never. This might be my only opportunity to tell her that she needed to reconsider selling the business and taking Ryan up on his offer of being his assistant. I hadn’t prepared well enough and finally just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“I can tell you really love Allure,” I said.
It must have been too abrupt, because she frowned a little and tilted her head.
“Yeah, I do,” she said. “It’s brought Meggie and me closer together, so that’s been great.”
“What do you mean?”
She smiled sadly. “We’ve never had a great relationship, and it got really bad when my mom died seven years ago,” she said. “Meggie is a strong, independent woman, and I’m so proud of her. We just operate so differently. I think she finds me a little controlling, which I can be, but I’m her big sister. I’m supposed to be. Before our father died, he asked me to watch out for her, and if that means being a little bit more controlling than she likes, so be it. But in the last year or so, the clothing line has been a real common ground for us.”
“Where do you see the company in five years?”
Emma flinched, just slightly, but then the smile was back on her face. “Um, growing to have customers all across the world.”
“Maybe starting in New York?” I asked.
She frowned. “Yeah, maybe,” she said. “What’s gotten into you? Is this an interview?”
“No, nothing,” I said with a smile. “Sorry, it’s just really inspiring to see someone following her dreams, that’s all.”
She smiled, and I detected a hint of sadness behind her eyes. “I think something has gotten into you all right,” she said. “And we’ll need to get some more in you.” She stood up and walked over to the dining room table and picked up a bottle of wine. “Where’s your glass?”
• • •
The next thing I knew, I was lying on my side, and there was carpet in my mouth.
Or maybe it was hair. I pressed my tongue upward and felt the grainy thread there, tickling the roof of my mouth. It took another few moments for me to realize that I was lying on the floor. I was still in Emma’s apartment, but there was no one around me. And I was lying…
Behind the couch?
I clenched the carpet as the room spun around me again, and I wanted to cry because I should have been able to get up.
I needed help.
But I couldn’t speak, the cries somehow lost in my throat.
I heard talking, and I tried to lift my head to see who it was.
I could see two figures in the kitchen. They were moving—first just feet, then their legs, and then their entire bodies.
A man and a woman.
They were talking quietly, and I couldn’t make out any of their words. I had the distinct feeling that they didn’t know I was there.
I strained upward to see them, but it sent a sharp pain down the side of my body, and I let myself drop as sleep, or something very much like it, took over.
Chapter 18
Claire
The Night in Question
The sun was coming up by the time Claire walked out of Andrew Brighton’s apartment.
She knew she should call it a night. She was pushing her luck trying to sneak in interviews so late at night. But she’d meant it when she’d told Greg that she didn’t want to let the dust settle. People tended to stretch the truth when they had time to think about what they were going to say.
She needed gut reactions.
She needed the truth.
Claire walked down to the first floor. She would wrap up the night with one more interview. She’d go home and get some sleep, then start all over again. Later that day, they’d have more information from Dr. Ortiz about the exact time and cause of death, and they’d know what the stain on Beverly and Andrew’s carpet was. Claire would also stop by to interview the store owner, Joshua Burlap.
Then she would dig a little harder into the artist, Chris.
If there was one piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit, it was the artist.
No contact information.
No last name.
No traces of her besides the fuzzy accounts of three party guests, who all seemed to have something to hide.
Claire walked over to the first-floor apartment and knocked on the door. It had been open when she arrived, but someone had shut it in the past hour.
It took a few moments, but then the door was flung open, and a man in his late twenties with shaggy, shoulder-length brown hair stood in the doorway.
“Seriously?” he asked, something close to a pout on his face. “Do we have to do this now?”
“I’d appreciate just a few minutes of your time,” Claire said before introducing herself. “I spoke with your girlfriend, and she said you were down here. I know it’s been a rough night, but this will only take a moment.”
“A rough night?” Patrick asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what you call this?” He sighed and stepped back into the apartment, letting her inside. “This is just so completely fucked up. Where is Meggie anyway?”
“I think she’s still upstairs with her sister.” Claire stepped all the way into the room and looked around. Layout-wise, it looked a lot like the other two units, but the decor was much more colorful and crafty. They stopped in the living room near the couch, but Patrick didn’t sit, nor did he invite Claire to.
“What can I tell you?” he asked.
“How about you start with what happened when you and Meggie got home?”
He frowned. “Didn’t she already tell you?” Claire didn’t respond, and he sighed. “Oh, I get it. You want to see if our stories match up. If this isn’t the biggest crock of…” He took a deep breath and sighed. “We went to Boxer’s, came home around two thirty, walked in, saw the blood on the carpet and the wall, and went upstairs to check it out. And when we got to the top, we saw her freaking hand.” He swallowed and took a breath. “The blood on the carpet really stood out to us. I mean, that thing is always spotless. I think Emma has it cleaned every two weeks.”
Claire frowned. Meggie had used almost those exact words, which made her wonder: Had they rehearsed their story?
And more importantly, why?
She made a mental note of it and moved on. “One of the other tenants mentioned that you’ve had some run-ins with Beverly in the past,” she said.
He sighed. “One of the other tenants? You mean Emma? Look, Bev and I certainly weren’t best friends after she accused me of stealing her necklace. Which I didn’t do, if you’re wondering. I’m a lot of things, but I’m no thief. Still, I wouldn’t bash her over it. Not my style.”
“What about anyone else at the party tonight? Anyone else have any issues with Beverly? Anyone you think could’ve done this?”
He shrugged. “Maybe that creepy store owner? He kept coming on to Bev all night, and she wasn’t too happy about it.”
Claire frowned. “Okay,” she said. “And you were the last to leave?”
“Yeah, me and Meggie. Around one.”
“What can you tell me about Chris?”
“Who?”
“The artist who was at the dinner party tonight?”
“Oh, Emma’s weird friend?” he asked. “Not much.”
“You know, we found one of her shoes underneath Emma’s couch,” Claire said.
Patrick let out a laugh. “Really? That’s not a huge surprise, to be honest. She liked her beverage a little too much, if you know what I mean.”
“I have an idea, but maybe you can elaborate,” Claire said.
Patrick shrugged. “She was quiet at first, but after a few, she became very talkative. Talking about relationships and loyalty and stuff like that. It was weird and not a little awkward,” he said with a laugh. “And then she was out of it. One moment, she was bouncing off the walls; the next, she was dead asleep behind the couch. So, like I said, I’m not surprised she left one of her shoes there.”
“What time was that?” Claire asked.
“That I saw her knocked out?” he asked. “I don’t know. Maybe midnight, maybe a little after that.”
“And what time did you see her leave?”
“She must have left around twelve thirty or twelve forty-five or something, because, like I said, we left at one.”
Something about the phrasing made Claire pause. “She must have?” she said. “Did you see her leave?”
Patrick started to nod and then he paused. “Well, no, I didn’t see her walk out the door, but she was definitely gone before we left.”
He said this last part slowly and tilted his head as he looked at his own couch, which was positioned in much the same way as Emma’s upstairs.
He looked at Claire, then back at the couch, and then back at Claire again.
“Well, shit,” he said with a small chuckle. “At least I think she was.”
PART 3
the week after the night
Chapter 19
Paula
The day after
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that my cheek was wet.
Everything hurt, and I do mean everything. Places on my body that I did not know could hurt throbbed—the joints between my fingers, the bottom of my tongue. It all hurt so much.
I took a few long, slow breaths to steady myself.
I was in a bed, which was a good start. The feel of the pillow beneath my head was familiar, the smell soothing.
I was at home.
