The Aura by Carrie Bedford

different view?”
    I decided to say what had been on my mind ever since the moment of walking into Rebecca’s apartment.
    “Well, I suppose I do.” My voice shook and I took a gulp of coffee. “It just seems unlikely that she fell. She was a dancer in college and had amazing balance. You could still see it in the way she walked. She had great poise.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Accidents happen,” he said. “You’d be amazed at the range of accidental deaths I’ve seen. The most unlikely people dying in the most incredible circumstances.”
    ’I suppose so,” I said. I felt disheartened but decided to keep asking questions. “What time did she die? She was supposed to be meeting her boyfriend, don’t forget. Maybe he was there when it happened?”
    “Initial estimate of time of death is around six on Sunday evening,” he said.
    That was more than forty-eight hours before Nick and I found her. I shivered.
    “Tell me more about this boyfriend,” he said. “You never met him?”
    “No. All she told me was that his name is Edward and that he travels a lot. That’s it. Maybe he’ll contact the police when he realizes Rebecca’s not answering his calls or texts? I mean, he must get worried at some point and then he’ll reach out to someone. Perhaps he’ll ask Nick?”
    Clarke played with the lid on his cup, bending back the piece of plastic that covered the opening until it broke off in his hand. He looked at it before answering.
    “This boyfriend seems to be a bit of a mystery. You said that his shaving cream and aftershave were removed from the bathroom cabinet? If he moved out, he may not expect to hear from her, or be in touch with her in any way.”
    “Oh, right. I hadn’t thought of that.”
    I paused, unsure whether to share another idea I’d had. “I was wondering about Rebecca’s apartment,” I said finally. “It’s in a very expensive part of London. I know she had a good job, but I was thinking it might be out of her pay range. I mean, we’re only three years or so out of college. I’m certainly not making that kind of money. So maybe the boyfriend was paying for it and you could perhaps trace him through a rent check or something.” I tailed off, feeling embarrassed that I was making suggestions to a professional.
    Clarke nodded, with a hint of smile. “Good thinking, Miss Benedict. I’d thought the same thing. I’ll follow up on that.”
    In the long silence that followed, Clarke shifted in his chair and stuck his legs out in front of him, leaning back as though he was in a comfortable armchair at home.
    “Yesterday you said something about looking out for Rebecca,” he said. “Can you tell me more? Why did you feel you needed to look out for her?”
    I really have to learn to keep my mouth closed, I thought. There was no way I was going to try explain the aura to Inspector Clarke.
    “It was that she seemed vulnerable, you know? The boyfriend seemed to have her on a short string. She set her schedule around when he was home.”
    Clarke’s expression indicated that he had expected more but he nodded.
    “Ok.”
    The ensuing silence was broken only by the pattering of rain on the windows. I drank more of my coffee, starting to feel a slight buzz that was so much better than the dog-tired fatigue I’d started the day with. But the increased energy also took the edge off the numbness I’d been feeling since finding Rebecca’s body. I took another gulp of coffee to hide my sudden emotion. I’d never see her again. We wouldn’t go to the play we’d planned to see. We wouldn’t drive around in my Dad’s Fiat 500 and flirt with Italian waiters. I wouldn’t take her to my favorite museum in Florence or up the Campanile. None of that would happen now.
    Clarke handed me a clean and pressed white handkerchief even before I realized I needed it. I blotted the tears from under my eyes.
    “You must be a good listener,” he said, in an apparent non sequitur. I raised an eyebrow,