house was considered a crime scene because an unattended death had occurred on its premises. The ambulance had gone after the paramedics had examined Sasha, saying no heart activity, upon which Julian had shed appropriate tears. In truth, he felt them. He’d killed her, but he missed her.
The detectives and county coroner had arrived, ushering Julian from the bedroom and asking him to wait in the kitchen. Crime techs had photographed every room, the coroner examined Sasha’s body, and the detectives collected and bagged as evidence her purse, pill bottles, and the wineglasses and bottle. Sasha’s body, zipped into a black vinyl bag, was rolled out of the house on a gurney.
Julian had called Francie, and she’d come back to the house, shocked and upset. Detective Moran and Detective Garcia had interviewed her first, in his study, intentionally out of earshot. He’d hung in the kitchen, unworried. He knew everything she’d say would support his story. He’d gotten every detail right, even the two wineglasses. When the detectives were ready to interview him, he was confident.
Detective Moran conducted the questioning, and Detective Garcia took notes. They both wore lightweight sport jackets and dark polo shirts, and Detective Moran was senior, in his forties with graying hair and a salt-and-pepper mustache, bright blue eyes, and a businesslike way about him. They knew who Julian was, and regarded him with the mix of envy and admiration that men show more successful men. He’d seen it growing up, for his father. It was serving him well today, because it was clear that the detectives did not suspect foul play.
Detective Moran was saying, “So we’d like to obtain an initial statement, primarily to capture the sequence of events earlier in the day, or days, leading up to present.”
“Well, it’s only today. This morning, I met up with Sasha at the funeral of a friend of ours from high school. His name was David Hybrinski. We all grew up in Brandywine Hunt. Sadly, he died by suicide.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. Sasha had flown in from Paris this morning, rented a car, and come directly.”
“Was the funeral local?”
“Yes, at Gardens of Peace on Scattergood. I hadn’t seen Sasha since high school, but I messaged her on Facebook when I saw his obit, and she was going to be in town, so she came.”
“She must have been jet-lagged.”
“Probably.” Julian hadn’t thought of that. It worked in his favor.
“Was she employed?” Detective Moran met his eyes directly, and Julian kept his game face on, while the other detective took notes in a skinny notebook.
“She was a freelance fashion publicist. She travels. She doesn’t live here anymore.”
“What was her state of mind at the funeral?”
“It was upsetting at the graveside because there was a family fight. The father of our friend threw his boyfriend out of the funeral.”
“That’s too bad.” Detective Moran grimaced.
“It upset her.”
“Is that how you would describe her state of mind?”
“Yes. She was upset after the funeral. Shaken, I guess. Her flight to Paris wasn’t until tomorrow, and she planned to stay at my house. I asked Francie, with whom you spoke, to let her in before she left for the day.” Julian edited out the meeting with Allie at the nature preserve. The last thing he wanted to do was put the police in contact with her.
“Had Ms. Barrow stayed here before?”
“No, never. I haven’t said a word to her in decades, until today. I was doing an old friend a favor, putting her up. An old neighbor.” Julian smiled inwardly. Payback was a bitch.
“So what did you do after the funeral?”
“I had a meeting with my father at his offices.”
Detective Moran brightened. “My family and I live in a Browne development, Charleston Mews.”
Julian flashed a professional smile. “I know it well. I worked on that project, one of our best. Two hundred homes around the reservoir. Love it.”
“We do, too.”
“I’ll tell my dad.” Julian rode the goodwill. He had earned it, after all.
“Where did you go after the meeting?”
Julian tried to look sad again. “I came home.”
“What time did you get home?”
“Around six.”
“Now tell me, how did you come to find the body?”
“I went to the guest bedroom and found her. It was just awful. At first I thought she’d fallen asleep, but then I saw the pills.” Julian paused, pursing his lips as if he were maintaining emotional control. “I was going to do CPR but it was clear she was already dead. That’s when I called 911.”
“Were you aware that she used drugs?