In Death 18 - Divided in Death

going on. I said, ‘She’s dead.’ I said, ‘Chloe’s dead,’ that she killed herself.”
    “Okay. You talked to her last night.”
    “I called when I got home. I’d been out working on a set for a play on the West Side. I knew she was having a rough time. We talked awhile, then I went over. Kept her company for a little while. I stayed till about eleven. I had an early class, and she said she was going to bed. Escape into sleep, that’s what she said. She said things like that, but I didn’t think she meant . . .” Deena reached out to grip Eve’s arm.
    “Officer Dallas. I’d never have left her alone if I’d understood what she meant. I’d never have let her do it.”
    “This isn’t your fault. You were a good friend.” And because she could see how the guilt was pricking, she didn’t correct Deena on her rank. “How was the apartment?”
    “I’m sorry?”
    “I wondered what sort of state the rooms were in last night when you were there.”
    “Oh. It was pretty neat, I guess. Chloe liked to keep things neat. Well, there were tissues everywhere. She was crying a lot at first, and tossing them around.”
    “Did you have anything to eat or drink?”
    “We had some wine. I brought over a bottle, and we went through about half of it, maybe.”
    “Ice cream?”
    “Ice cream? No, I didn’t think of it. That would’ve been good, though.”
    “Did you clean up the wineglasses?”
    “The glasses? Ah, no. I didn’t think about it. I was tired, and she’d about cried herself out. We just left everything in the living room.”
    “Not the bedroom?”
    “No, we sat on the floor in the living room, just a couple hours. Maybe if I’d stayed over with her . . .”
    “I want to ask you to look at this note.” Eve took out the pink paper in an evidence bag. “Do you know if this is Chloe’s handwriting?”
    “Yeah. Big and splashy, that’s Chloe. But she was wrong. There was life without him. There’s always more life. And for Christ’s sake, it wasn’t going to go anywhere. It was all just a fantasy.”
    “Did you ever meet Blair Bissel?”
    “No.” She took a balled-up tissue, blew her nose. “She kept him really close. I didn’t even know about him. I mean, I knew there was somebody, and I knew the somebody was married, but she wouldn’t tell me his name, or anything. Made a vow, she said. A solemn vow. It’s so like her to say that: ‘I made a solemn vow.’ That, and the fact she knew I didn’t see him as the love of her life the way she did, meant she didn’t tell me a lot of specifics about him. I didn’t know his name, or that it was the guy she worked for part-time in the gallery until after it happened. After his wife killed him, I mean, and she told me about it last night.”
    “So he never came here.”
    “Yeah, he did. At least I think he did. We had this signal, Chloe and I. If either of us had something going on and didn’t want other company—if you get me—we’d hang this pink ribbon on the doorknob. That was her idea. As far as I know, and I’m pretty sure I’d know, she wasn’t seeing anybody but the artist for the last few months. And there’d be a pink ribbon on the door about once a week.”
    “Did she usually turn off her ‘links when she was entertaining?”
    “Oh yeah. That was Chloe. She didn’t want anything from the outside world to disturb the ambiance.”
    “When you left her last night, did you hear or see anything?”
    “I went right to bed. I’d had a couple glasses of wine, and the whole emotional scene. I was wiped. I didn’t hear anything until the alarm kicked me out of bed this morning at six-thirty.”
    “What time did you leave for class?”
    “About quarter after seven. Give or take.”
    “See anything then?”
    “No, nothing. I thought about running in and checking on Chloe, but figured she’d be . . .” Her voice wavered again. “I thought she’d be asleep—and I was cutting it close anyway, so I just went straight out, and to class.”
    “I know this is a tough time for you, and appreciate you answering all the questions.” She started to rise, then sat again, as if just remembering something. “Oh, I noticed—when I reviewed the ‘link transmissions—that she was wearing a necklace when she talked to you. A heart on a chain, I think. Pretty. She kept playing with it while she talked.”
    “The locket? I think the artist gave it to her a couple months ago. She never took it off. She was really