13
Sadie Holt lived in a stucco house on a quiet cul-de-sac lined with identical mailboxes and trimmed hedges. When I pulled to a stop in front of the house, the garage door was open, and a little pink sedan was parked inside. I hoped the car was Sadie’s and that the lack of other vehicles meant the seventeen-year-old was home alone and that I had her all to myself.
I parked in the driveway, got out of the car, and walked to the door, ringing the bell. A shuffle of feet sounded inside, followed by the click of a lock. The door cracked open an inch, and one pale-blue eye blinked out at me.
“If you’re looking for my parents, they aren’t home,” she said.
“Are you Sadie?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not here to talk to your parents. I’m here to talk to you.”
“Why?”
She pulled the door open all the way and leaned against the frame. Her long blond hair hung in two loose braids over her shoulders, and she wore sweats and an oversized sweater that swallowed her tiny frame. As we stood there, staring at each other, her expression shifted a few times, going from curiosity to irritation to boredom.
“I’m Georgiana Germaine,” I said.
“I don’t care who you are.”
“Rosemary Ashford hired me to investigate her daughter’s murder.”
“Ahh, you’re the private investigator,” she said. “The one everyone in town has been talking about.”
“I am, and I’d like to ask you a few questions about Audrey.”
She groaned as if I’d asked her to scrub the floor with a toothbrush. “Why? I’m not involved with what happened to her, and besides, I don’t feel like answering your questions.”
“If you don’t want to talk to me now, fine. But you should know I’ll keep coming around until you do.”
She rolled her eyes as if she found me annoying.
“Fiiiiine, come in,” she said. “But I have somewhere to be in an hour, so make it quick.”
She stepped aside, and I entered a living room filled with mismatched furniture, a wall of crystal animals in various shapes and sizes, and a faint cinnamon smell in the air.
Sadie flopped onto a beanbag and curled her legs beneath her.
“You can sit or whatever,” she said.
I sat across from her. “If it would make you feel more comfortable, you can let your parents know I’m here.”
“They don’t need to know,” she said with a shrug. “Why are you here?”
“I’d like to know about your friendship with Audrey.”
Her jaw tightened. “We used to be close. Then we weren’t. That’s the story. Are we done?”
“Not yet. I’m going to need a little more than that.”
Sadie let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. We were friends. Then she stole from me. End of story.”
“You’re referring to the night of the party.”
“Yeah, the one where everyone assumed I’d had too much to drink and forced me to leave the party while they all stayed. Real fun night.”
“You left your purse behind.”
