was cut in several places. I’m going to ask you to keep that information to yourself since we haven’t released it to the press yet. Although clearly someone has.”
“Okay, I promise,” Kate said. “How was she cut? I mean, where was she cut?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“I’m pretty sure that Corbin, that my cousin Corbin, had something to do with Audrey’s death. I went down to the storage units in the basement—”
“In the basement here in this building?”
“Yes.”
“When did you do this?”
“Just this morning. Just now, before you got here.”
Kate told her what she’d found, describing the poster of the sexy girl, and the way it had been sliced down the middle, and then reframed. As she explained it, she wondered if she sounded paranoid, but the detective was interested, noticeably sitting a little taller on the edge of her seat. When Kate was done, the detective thanked her, then said she wanted to make a quick phone call. She stood, pulled out her cell phone, and walked over to the window. Whoever she called, they talked for less than a minute, the detective pocketing the phone as she walked back toward Kate.
“Audrey Marshall’s cause of death was a knife wound to the throat, but, there were also postmortem wounds, a slice from her head down the length of her body.” The detective ran her finger down her own center.
“Oh,” Kate said, her mind immediately picturing the skin folded back, a skull revealed. She tasted bile at the back of her throat.
“Why did you go to the storage unit in the first place?” Detective James asked. “Are there other reasons you suspect your cousin?”
Kate filled her lungs with one long, deep breath, then let it out. She knew she had to tell this detective everything. She began, first telling her about what she had learned from Alan Cherney, how he was able to see into Audrey Marshall’s apartment, and how he had become convinced that Corbin was dating Audrey. How he’d seen them kiss.
Kate thought the detective would want to know why Alan Cherney was spying on Audrey Marshall, but, instead, she asked: “Even if Corbin was romantically involved with Audrey, why would that make you so suspicious? There must have been something else.”
“Well, it was because he denied it. And Alan says they were involved, and so does Audrey’s friend, Jack—he seemed to think that Corbin had something to do with what happened, as well.”
“I definitely want to get back to Jack Ludovico, and hear more about that conversation, but first, is there anything else that has caused you to suspect your cousin? Obviously, you’ve been looking around . . .”
“I told you about the key that he had to Audrey Marshall’s apartment.”
“Yes.”
“There’s that. Although that could mean anything, of course. He was her neighbor, after all. And, then, there was what I found in the storage unit. The cut picture.”
“Do you have the storage unit key with you now?”
“Yes, here,” Kate said, reaching into the front pocket of her jeans, but not finding the key. She stood, searched her other pockets. Nothing.
“Did you put it back in the drawer?” Detective James asked.
“God, I must have,” Kate said, and turned to walk to the kitchen.
“That’s okay,” the detective quickly said. “We’ll find it.”
Kate sat back down. Yes, now she remembered: she’d put the key back in the drawer of the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I haven’t been sleeping, and I’ve been freaking out about what happened in this building.”
“Totally understandable,” Detective James said. She reached out and briefly placed two fingers on Kate’s knee to reassure her. Kate recognized the gesture, and the detective’s half smile, from the dozens of psychiatrists and counselors she’d had contact with in the course of her short life. She wasn’t crazy, though. Not right now. The police presence proved that. There had been a murder next door. And Corbin was somehow involved.
“Tell me more about Ludovico. Do you know how he spells his name?”
“I don’t know. The way it sounds, I guess,” Kate said. “Why?”
“Because after I talked with you last, and you told me that you’d talked with him, I tried to look him up, and didn’t find anything.”
“Didn’t he come by the police station?”
“He didn’t. Did he tell you that he had?”
Kate tried to remember. She was still frazzled by not remembering where she’d put the key, and suddenly all of her memories felt unreal to her. “He did,” she said at last. “I’m sure of it. He