way she lies. My mother had a saying about obnoxious couples: ‘They’d spoil another couple.’ Maybe that’s the case here.”
“Guess we’ll find out,” Anthony said.
The apartments were located on a sleepy stretch of Euclid Avenue —a labyrinth of beige stucco boxes stacked three stories high. Pocket patios, plenty of palm trees, the glitter of a swimming pool through wrought iron fencing—the definition of generic student apartments in a sunbelt city.
The lot was less than half-full. That was because final exams were over at the U. of A., and students were moving out, if they weren’t gone already. There were lots of units just coming empty. Alex’s Ford Focus was in a covered parking area.
“Looks like she’s home. There’s 14C.” Laura nodded toward the apartment and then looked back at the Google satellite map just to make sure.
They parked and got out—and were blasted by the heat. Tucson was a good-sized city now, with plenty of roads and buildings that attracted the sun’s rays. The city was a heat island.
Laura positioned herself to the left side of the door. Anthony knocked and stepped back so his weight was on his left leg. Hand down by his side.
They waited. Laura’s hand also hovered near her weapon. Just in case.
Anthony knocked again.
The door opened. Alex Williams looked like your typical college student, in short shorts and a skimpy top. Barefoot, hair caught up in a barrette that looked like chopsticks, glasses pushed up on the top of her head. “Hi there.”
Hard not to look at that model-perfect body.
“Can we talk to you?”
She opened the door wider. “Oh, sure. Come in!”
She showed no surprise that they were here on her doorstep. No surprise that they had found her under the name Alex Williams. She looked friendly . . . and helpful.
She led them into a neat, spare-looking living room. No knick-knacks, just the furniture the place came with. There was a MacBook Pro on the dinette table and a big textbook—geology, Laura thought.
The graduate student at work.
She motioned them to the couch and said, “Did you find out who killed Sean?”
“Not yet,” Anthony said, sitting down. It was a cheap apartment couch and he sank into it.
Laura perched on the edge beside him, hoping to avoid the quicksand.
The girl’s brows knitted together. “I was hoping the furniture wasn’t so crappy. . .” She pulled a chair from the dinette table, sat down on it, and hooked her bare feet around the legs. “ . . . . But, you know.” She shrugged. “So how can I help you?” She leaned forward, earnest and attentive and not the least bit surprised they were here.
Anthony said, “I was wondering . . . could you clear up why you called yourself Madison Neville?”
Her face turned suddenly grave. “I was worried my ex would find me. That’s why I changed back to my maiden name.”
“He wouldn’t find you under the name ‘Madison Neville?’”
“I know. Pretty dumb, huh? But I wasn’t thinking straight. I just wanted to get away from him.”
“Did you change it back officially?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know where your ex is now?”
“Nuh-uh. I have no idea.” She looked confused and sad at the same time.
Quite a show she was putting on. But Laura sensed Williams, Neville—whoever she was—didn’t give a rat’s ass whether they believed her or not. She gave Laura the impression that she knew she’d already won this round and she was not the least bit worried about what she said.
Anthony took the lead. He went over Sean’s movements—the ones Alex knew about.
“Was he interested in you?”
“Oh, he flirted with me. But I wasn’t interested.”
“Did you spend much time together?”
“No more than I did with any other guest. All that lying—it’s fun for a while, and then it gets boring.”
“Go on any hikes together?”
“Hikes?” She looked confused. “Why would I go hiking with him? ”
Laura asked if she could use the
“Guess we’ll find out,” Anthony said.
The apartments were located on a sleepy stretch of Euclid Avenue —a labyrinth of beige stucco boxes stacked three stories high. Pocket patios, plenty of palm trees, the glitter of a swimming pool through wrought iron fencing—the definition of generic student apartments in a sunbelt city.
The lot was less than half-full. That was because final exams were over at the U. of A., and students were moving out, if they weren’t gone already. There were lots of units just coming empty. Alex’s Ford Focus was in a covered parking area.
“Looks like she’s home. There’s 14C.” Laura nodded toward the apartment and then looked back at the Google satellite map just to make sure.
They parked and got out—and were blasted by the heat. Tucson was a good-sized city now, with plenty of roads and buildings that attracted the sun’s rays. The city was a heat island.
Laura positioned herself to the left side of the door. Anthony knocked and stepped back so his weight was on his left leg. Hand down by his side.
They waited. Laura’s hand also hovered near her weapon. Just in case.
Anthony knocked again.
The door opened. Alex Williams looked like your typical college student, in short shorts and a skimpy top. Barefoot, hair caught up in a barrette that looked like chopsticks, glasses pushed up on the top of her head. “Hi there.”
Hard not to look at that model-perfect body.
“Can we talk to you?”
She opened the door wider. “Oh, sure. Come in!”
She showed no surprise that they were here on her doorstep. No surprise that they had found her under the name Alex Williams. She looked friendly . . . and helpful.
She led them into a neat, spare-looking living room. No knick-knacks, just the furniture the place came with. There was a MacBook Pro on the dinette table and a big textbook—geology, Laura thought.
The graduate student at work.
She motioned them to the couch and said, “Did you find out who killed Sean?”
“Not yet,” Anthony said, sitting down. It was a cheap apartment couch and he sank into it.
Laura perched on the edge beside him, hoping to avoid the quicksand.
The girl’s brows knitted together. “I was hoping the furniture wasn’t so crappy. . .” She pulled a chair from the dinette table, sat down on it, and hooked her bare feet around the legs. “ . . . . But, you know.” She shrugged. “So how can I help you?” She leaned forward, earnest and attentive and not the least bit surprised they were here.
Anthony said, “I was wondering . . . could you clear up why you called yourself Madison Neville?”
Her face turned suddenly grave. “I was worried my ex would find me. That’s why I changed back to my maiden name.”
“He wouldn’t find you under the name ‘Madison Neville?’”
“I know. Pretty dumb, huh? But I wasn’t thinking straight. I just wanted to get away from him.”
“Did you change it back officially?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know where your ex is now?”
“Nuh-uh. I have no idea.” She looked confused and sad at the same time.
Quite a show she was putting on. But Laura sensed Williams, Neville—whoever she was—didn’t give a rat’s ass whether they believed her or not. She gave Laura the impression that she knew she’d already won this round and she was not the least bit worried about what she said.
Anthony took the lead. He went over Sean’s movements—the ones Alex knew about.
“Was he interested in you?”
“Oh, he flirted with me. But I wasn’t interested.”
“Did you spend much time together?”
“No more than I did with any other guest. All that lying—it’s fun for a while, and then it gets boring.”
“Go on any hikes together?”
“Hikes?” She looked confused. “Why would I go hiking with him? ”
Laura asked if she could use the
Similar Books
