First Born(19)

‘I left when she was still asleep. We studied at Butler the night before. Katie slept in later than me.’

‘Tell me about her life here. I can’t stay in New York for long and I want to give the police some help if I can. Someone out there knows who did this. They have to be stopped.’

‘Katie? Easygoing fun-loving girl. I guess you’re the same.’

We were never the same.

Not even close.

‘She made friends real quick at school. Lots of guys wanted her, you know, but she was picky. English, I guess. She was tight with Vi Roseberry – you talked with her?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Can be a piece of work sometimes to be honest but she’s cool and they were close, you know, like soulmates.’

I find it troubling that he disregards both himself and me as my sister’s soulmate. Surely I’d be first candidate and him the runner-up, not Violet Roseberry.

‘Was KT ever stalked on campus, as far as you know? Ever threatened or anything like that?’

‘Her neighbour from downstairs was a creep. Just a Class A loser. But he seemed harmless. If Katie had been stalked properly then I’d have fixed it – just look at me.’

I look at him. ‘I guess.’

‘I would never let anyone hurt her.’

‘Someone killed her, Scott.’

There’s a pause and it feels like the whole coffee house is listening to our conversation, but they’re not. They’re checking likes and follows, tracking their subscriber counts and their LinkedIn profile views.

‘But there was nothing I could do about that.’ He sighs. ‘She wasn’t easy sometimes, your sister. She travelled to all kinds of places without me, abroad, and she went out with friends. She had other guy friends. I tried to be relaxed about it, but I couldn’t protect her when she was out with some other guy, could I?’

‘I guess not.’

He fixes me with a cold stare, then looks out of the window and drains his coffee. ‘Some bullshit with her tutor, Prof Groot, old dude with a beard. I’m not in his class. It was nothing specific but she was always weird around him. Some misunderstanding but she’d never explain it to me.’

‘Professor Groot?

‘Eugene Groot, Lit Hum.’

I make a note. ‘What is Lit Hum?’

‘Literature and Humanities.’ He checks his watch. ‘I’m sorry, Molly, I gotta get to class.’

‘Is there any other detail, even something small? Something I can take to Martinez?’

‘To who?’

‘Detective Martinez, Homicide. He hasn’t talked to you yet?’

He looks uneasy. ‘No. Some other cop. Different name.’

‘Help me. We need to find out what happened.’

‘You think I don’t know that? I want this guy on Death Row by next week.’

‘Death Row? In New York?’

‘You know what I mean.’

I write my phone number down on a paper napkin. ‘Call me. With information, but also just to chat about KT. I want to keep talking about her. I want to keep her alive for a while longer.’

Scott looks at me like I’m disturbed and then he places the napkin in his pocket and puts on both rucksacks. ‘I gotta go now. I’m real sorry about your sister.’

He leaves.





Chapter 11


I’m tempted to hail a cab but I can’t afford the fare right now. I mean, I can cover it, but who knows what my expenses are going to look like in the days ahead. I walk down Broadway and realise what an incredibly long street it is. The buildings either side are single-storey. Mechanics’ shops and delis and convenience stores. A no-win, no-fee attorney’s office. I find a bus stop and try to make sense of the timetable.

‘You a tourist? Tourist, are you? You from out of town?’ The woman has her granddaughter with her and she’s dragging a shopping bag on wheels.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Sorry, I’m trying to get back to Midtown.’

She scrunches her nose, then licks her teeth. ‘Best take the subway, honey.’

‘I don’t like being underground.’

She shakes that away. ‘Oh, it ain’t nothing. Millions of people take it every day. Just don’t look at the rats. Or the perverts. Course, there’s less of both than back in my day. The subway ain’t what it used to be and I mean that in a good way – course back when Koch was mayor . . .’

‘Could I get a bus from around here?’ I interrupt.

‘A bus? A bus, I guess you could, would take you longer though, I’m just tellin’ you the truth. Traffic. Walk down two blocks and get the . . . I don’t remember the number but you’ll see it, from opposite the Albanian drugstore, it’s run by the Albanians now, nice family, used to be Dominican owners but they moved on, big green cross in the window.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t mention it, sweetheart. Have yourself a nice trip. Take care now.’

I walk down to the bus stop and figure out which route I need.

The sign says I’m still in Inwood and according to the map my best option is a bus down to Grand Central Station and then walk west from there.

I lean against a cool brick wall and a car pulls up and the driver shouts, ‘You Susan? You going to Port Authority? Susan Bryers?’ and I shake my head.