Her eyes filled. “Shithead.”
“Sounds like,” Peabody agreed.
“I told him how she hadn’t been home, and he’s all that’s not his problem. I told him to get fucked, and I called the condo she’d booked at the beach. That’s when I found out they hadn’t shown, and she hadn’t canceled, either. She’d’ve canceled, and she’d have come home so we could bitch about the shithead, so I could let her cry on my shoulder.”
“You’re good friends.”
Cleo managed a smile for Peabody. “Really tight, yes. Lucky. I wanted this apartment, but I needed a roommate so I could afford it. It’s really close to work, it’s a nice place, good neighborhood. She answered the ad, and we clicked. We really clicked. Like I said, I work most nights, but when we have a day off, or I have a night off, we’d hit the vids, or a club. Stoner’s for a drink. Then he wound her in—he’s got a way. She’d go down there four nights a week, sometimes five. She’d bus tables or serve drinks—for free.”
“And stay the night?” Eve asked.
“Nope. Never. He’d take her up—he lives over the bar—for a quickie sometimes, but no sleepovers. His rule, right? She’d head over there about eight and be home about midnight.”
“Four or five nights a week.”
“Yeah. I’m going to say I didn’t like it. He was using her, but all that dazzle.” To illustrate, she did jazz hands by the sides of her face. “The trip was her idea, and she made all the arrangements. She was really excited about it, then he dumps her like that? Shithead.”
“Was the night he dumped her one of her usual nights?”
“Sure, yeah.”
“Did he ever walk back here with her?”
Cleo snorted. “No.” After pressing her fingers to her eyes, she rubbed her face, hard. “I’m going to say we came the closest we ever have to a serious fight when I said he treated her like crap, and started pointing out how.”
She dropped her hands. “I backed off because things were going to blow. You don’t want to blow up with a friend over some asshole guy. She just had to get through it and over it.”
Now she smiled, just a little. “She’s the most sensible person I know, but she had it stuck that she was going to be the one to change him. Things were going to be different with her. Do you know what I mean?”
Peabody nodded. “Yeah. Most of us have been there.”
“Maybe he did something to her. I mean, I don’t see how, but—”
“We’ll talk to him,” Eve said. “Did she ever mention being uneasy about the walk home? About anyone bothering her?”
“No. And she’s careful. A lot tougher than she looks. Teeg found some weak spot, because it wasn’t really like her to get walked over like that. She wouldn’t take off, either. She wouldn’t. I had to tag her mom, just to be sure she didn’t go home. To be sure. Now her family’s half crazy, too. They haven’t seen or heard from her. She’d never do that. I called her boss, too, and nobody’s heard from her.”
“Okay. Can we see her room?”
“Oh, sure.”
The two bedrooms faced each other down the short hallway that ended with the shared bathroom. Cleo gestured to the room on the right.
Eve saw neat, organized, and again female in the quiet pastels, the mountain range of fluffy and fancy pillows on a bed covered with a pale blue spread. Thin curtains in a peachy tone framed the single window—for decor, Eve decided. The table, painted the same blue as the spread, stood in front of the window and held a mini data and communication unit, what Eve took to be a family photo—all smiling faces and a tree loaded with lights and ornaments—and a small, slender vase swirling with pastel tones.
An oval mirror, framed in pale green, stood over a pale blue dresser with drawers painted to alternate the peach and green. Atop ranged a trio of fancy bottles, a faceted glass box, and a slim tray holding little candles.
No sign, Eve thought, of packing for a trip, outfits considered, tossed aside.
“Would you say this is how her room typically looks?”
“Oh, absolutely. If a hurricane blew through, M.K. would have everything back in its place within an hour.”
With a quick laugh, Cleo pointed across the hall to a room with bold, bright colors and cheerful disorder.
“I’m the hurricane. M.K.—sorry, Mary Kate and her sister, Tara, helped decorate my room, and the rest of the place. They’ve got vision, and Mary Kate needs order and, well, pretty, like she needs to breathe.”