Death Before Facebook

wouldn’t wake you up.’
    “But he did, anyway. He really wanted me to see that.”
    “That’s beautiful, Neetsie. And, honestly, it helps. It gives me a better picture of Geoff than anything anyone else has said.”
    To herself she thought:
The murderer knew about that side if him. That’s how he knew Geoff would try to rescue the cat.
    Pearce looked slightly annoyed, probably thinking she’d failed to appreciate his speech at the church.
    “Neetsie and Kit, mind if I ask you something? Does Cole know you’re friends? I’m just curious.”
    “Well, I guess he’s catching on,” Kit said. “He said something about it in church today.”
    “You two don’t get along, I gather.”
    “Oh, no, we just don’t interact—on the TOWN, I mean, and other than that, we’ve barely seen each other in nearly thirty years—until today, that is. A lot of people don’t even know we used to be married.”
    Neetsie laughed. “Yeah, imagine
my
surprise. We got to be friends before I knew. Dad always referred to his ex-wife as Kathryne with an ‘e’ on the end, and this was Kit, not that, and Brazil, not Terry.”
    Skip turned to Kit. “What about Geoff? You were friends with him as well?”
    “I didn’t know him nearly as well as Neetsie,” she said, and she looked at her plate, unwilling to meet Skip’s eyes. Skip was pretty sure what that meant: She was hiding something.

CHAPTER TWELVE
     
    “LANGDON.”
    It was the 911 operator. “I’ve got a call about a burglary. I’ve got a car on the way, but the lady wants to talk to you.”
    Before Skip could answer, she switched the call.
    “Oh, God! I was afraid you wouldn’t be there.” It was a female voice, close to hysterical.
    “Who is this?”
    “Lenore Marquer.”
    “Are you all right? What’s going on?”
    “They hit my house.”
    “What?”
    “I’m so worried. I’m so afraid for my little girl.”
    “Lenore, what’s happened?”
    “Somebody ransacked my house; while I was at the grocery store.” Skip looked at her watch: Eleven-ten.
    “Okay, try to be calm just a few minutes more. Could the burglar still be there?”
    “Oh, shit!”
    “Could he?”
    She started to cry. “I don’t know.”
    “Take your little girl and go outside, far from the house—go across the street or down to the comer, and wait for me.”
    Lenore lived Uptown near the river, in the quiet, old-fashioned area near Audubon Park. It was a funny old neighborhood, run-down in one part of a block, spiffy in another. Some of the streets didn’t have sidewalks.
    Lenore’s house was one of the beat-up ones, a shotgun covered with asbestos shingles, the tiny yard overgrown with weeds and planted only with a huge palm.
    Mother and child were across the street, as ordered, both crying, both looking in need of a mom. The marked car pulled up at the same time Skip did.
    She and the other officer entered the house, guns drawn, threw open the closets, went through the whole place quickly. It was empty.
    And one of the most prodigious messes Skip had ever seen.
    When she came back out, Lenore practically hung on her skirts. “I’m so glad I got you. Jesus, I’m scared. Caitlin, this is Officer Langdon. Say hello to Officer Langdon.”
    The little girl hid her face.
    “She’s tired. I don’t know if I can face this. Do you need to look at anything?”
    “The other officer does. And then you do. To see if anything’s missing.”
    “Oh, God.”
    “You have to do it sometime. It’s probably better while I’m here.”
    “You’ll wait?”
    “I’ve been wanting to talk to you anyway.”
    “We could go around back. Would that be okay?”
    “I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
    The district officer was a young woman, barely in her twenties. She was average height and slight, but otherwise reminded Skip of herself a couple of years ago—not long ago at all. She was very new and very eager.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Susie Rountree.”
    “Skip Langdon, Homicide. Listen, I’m going to need a very thorough investigation here, and I’ll need prints. Call the crime lab and get them out here.” Seeing Rountree’s puzzled expression, she said, “This could be just a burglary—or it could be related to a homicide.”
    Rountree perked up.
    “Do as thorough a report as you can, okay?”
    Rountree looked as if she’d died and gone to heaven.
    It was all Skip could do not to wince. Was she ever that green?
    Rejoining Lenore, Skip was surprised to find her