Friday, January 1: ten days after the murder
6:00 p.m.
I didn’t want to alert her that I was coming, so I showed up at Katrina’s house with no advance notice. I figured she’d be home. She hadn’t been out much lately. Not that I blamed her. She’d basically had her job taken away and has a murder charge hanging over her head.
I was right. Her car was in the driveway, and her lights were on. She answered the door right away. I knew she wasn’t feeling great, but I was shocked at how terrible she looked. She’d lost weight, and she had been thin to begin with. Her sweatpants hung off her, and her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her bangs were too long, and dark circles under her eyes aged her by at least five years. She didn’t look thrilled to see me, which made me sad. At the same time, I felt a surge of anger. If she’d just confided in me in the first place, maybe we could’ve avoided a lot of this mess.
“Hey,” she said listlessly. “What’s up?”
“I need to talk to you,” I said, moving past her.
“Well then come on in,” she said sarcastically to my back.
Fred jumped down from his window perch and raced over to me, rubbing against my leg. I bent to pet him, giving me a moment to get myself together. Finally I rose and turned to face her. She stood against the door, arms crossed over her chest, watching me as one would an animal they were wary of. She didn’t ask me to sit.
“So what’s going on?” she asked finally.
I took a deep breath. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me. Because I’m really trying to help you.”
She winced a little at that, probably remembering the last time we had something to ask her. “Go on.”
“Katrina. You know I love you like a sister. And I know you didn’t hurt anyone. But you have to tell me. Were you having an affair with Virgil?”
By the range of emotions that raced across her face, I could tell that whatever she’d been expecting from me, it wasn’t that. Her reaction was so shocked, I realized it couldn’t be true. I’d known her a long time and she wasn’t that good of an actor.
“Was I … having an affair … with Virgil?” she repeated, as if tasting the words, finding them disgusting, and trying to spit them out. She looked like she didn’t know whether to laugh or come after me. “Maddie. Did you seriously just ask me that question?”
I stood my ground. “What am I supposed to think? You guys were calling each other all the time. You admitted you were at his house that night, although you never actually said why, aside from some story about checking on a cat that makes no sense. June had serious problems, and they clearly weren’t acting like a married couple. So”—I lifted my arms, palms up—“what would you think?”
“What would I think?” Katrina walked slowly around her kitchen. “I’m not sure. But I certainly wouldn’t jump to conclusions, especially ones like that, and run around accusing someone—my friend—without gathering the right information. But I guess you and I are different.”
The way she was looking at me made me want to crawl into a hole, but I kept my gaze on her. “Then why were you at Virgil’s house that night, if you weren’t seeing him? Because I know you weren’t murdering him.”
“Well,” she said, “thanks for the vote of confidence.” She yanked her door open, eyes flashing with anger. “I think you should leave.”
“Katrina, come on. Talk to me.”
“You don’t want to talk, Maddie. You just want to point fingers. Listen, I would appreciate it if you just stayed out of it. I know I asked for help, but I changed my mind. I don’t want your help. I’ll take my chances with the lawyer. And I’ll pay your grandfather back every cent for that as soon as I can, believe me. But in the meantime, just forget about all of it. Now please leave.”
That wasn’t what I was expecting. “You can’t—you need our help. I know you didn’t kill Virgil. The police aren’t interested in looking at anyone else. Just tell me what was going on, Katrina. Whatever it was, we can figure it out.”
“I asked you to leave.” Her eyes were so cold. “Now.”
I walked slowly to the door and turned around to try one more time, but she slammed it in my face. I had to take a step back so it wouldn’t hit me. I could hear her throw the deadbolt in place on the other side.
I waited a moment, my face burning despite the cold, then walked slowly toward my car. I’d been so sure I’d found at least one of the answers, but now I mostly just felt like a jerk. And like I’d lost one of my best and oldest friends.