from Germany,” Dolly said. “Maybe we should find a lawyer for you so they don’t say you have to stay there forever.”
“Yeah. I’ll wait to see what they say in three days.”
“Okay,” Dolly said. “Let’s wait for Tuesday. Then, if they don’t let you know when you can leave, tell them you have to contact the American embassy to get a lawyer. Without a doubt the embassy will help you, Amanda.”
As I walked outside the questura , I saw the guys from downstairs coming in. After we said hello, I wavered for a moment over the police’s order that I never talk about what I saw. “I was at your apartment today and you should know that your comforter was splotched with blood, Stefano. It made me wonder if Meredith was down there before she died. It was awful.”
“Yeah,” Stefano, said. “I hope that was from our cat and not Meredith.” Stefano, Giacomo, and Marco exchanged anxious looks.
Just then, Raffaele drove up and I said good-bye to the guys. Raffaele took me to a small boutique downtown called Bubble, next door to a luxury lingerie shop. Pulsating with music, Bubble catered to students, offering trendy, cheaply made clothing, the kind that’s not meant to outlast a season. I tried on a few things but decided to wait until my mom got to town to replace my staples, which were locked in the crime scene. I settled on one necessity, grabbing a pair of cotton bikini briefs in my size from a display rack near the cash register. In the long run it probably would have been better if I’d chosen a more sedate color than red. I didn’t give it another thought, but it turned out that what was insignificant to me was a big deal to other people. Standing at the cash register as he paid, Raffaele hugged me and gave me a few kisses—our lingua franca in a scary, sad time. A few weeks later, the press would report that I bought “a saucy G-string” and that Raffaele brazenly announced: “I’m going to take you home so we can have wild sex together.”
The main event of the night was getting together with Laura and Filomena. I was living inside a vacuum—I was staying with Raffaele, I’d spent the day with the police, and I was talking to the disembodied voices of my family. I needed the ballast I knew my flatmates would give me. We sat around their friend’s kitchen table and talked while Laura and Filomena chain-smoked. It was good to download with them. We were as close to normal as possible and wasted no time in speculating about what could possibly have happened at the villa. One scenario was that Meredith had come into the house, locked the front door behind her, and then the murderer broke in to find her there. After killing her, he stole her key to unlock the front door and ran, leaving the door swinging open in the frigid November breeze. Another was that Meredith had come home alone to find the killer biding his time, waiting inside for the first person through the door. I told them about the blood in the downstairs apartment and my worries that Meredith had been chased around there.
All these possibilities left me feeling chilled.
“It’s strange to me that whoever did this only wrecked one room and didn’t steal anything. Why do you think that was?” I asked.
Laura said, “I don’t know. We just have to let the police do their job. I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”
“The police are grilling me endlessly,” I said.
Filomena said, “I know it’s hard, Amanda. You’ve just got to be patient. They’re fixated on you because you knew Meredith better than we did.”
Laura and Filomena were each consulting a lawyer about how to get out of the lease. No doubt their lawyers were also counseling them on other things, such as how to deal with the police and on our pot-smoking habit, but they didn’t mention any of that.
“Are you okay living with Raffaele? How’s it going?” Laura asked. “Filomena and I are thinking about sharing another place.”
“Would you guys mind if
“Yeah. I’ll wait to see what they say in three days.”
“Okay,” Dolly said. “Let’s wait for Tuesday. Then, if they don’t let you know when you can leave, tell them you have to contact the American embassy to get a lawyer. Without a doubt the embassy will help you, Amanda.”
As I walked outside the questura , I saw the guys from downstairs coming in. After we said hello, I wavered for a moment over the police’s order that I never talk about what I saw. “I was at your apartment today and you should know that your comforter was splotched with blood, Stefano. It made me wonder if Meredith was down there before she died. It was awful.”
“Yeah,” Stefano, said. “I hope that was from our cat and not Meredith.” Stefano, Giacomo, and Marco exchanged anxious looks.
Just then, Raffaele drove up and I said good-bye to the guys. Raffaele took me to a small boutique downtown called Bubble, next door to a luxury lingerie shop. Pulsating with music, Bubble catered to students, offering trendy, cheaply made clothing, the kind that’s not meant to outlast a season. I tried on a few things but decided to wait until my mom got to town to replace my staples, which were locked in the crime scene. I settled on one necessity, grabbing a pair of cotton bikini briefs in my size from a display rack near the cash register. In the long run it probably would have been better if I’d chosen a more sedate color than red. I didn’t give it another thought, but it turned out that what was insignificant to me was a big deal to other people. Standing at the cash register as he paid, Raffaele hugged me and gave me a few kisses—our lingua franca in a scary, sad time. A few weeks later, the press would report that I bought “a saucy G-string” and that Raffaele brazenly announced: “I’m going to take you home so we can have wild sex together.”
The main event of the night was getting together with Laura and Filomena. I was living inside a vacuum—I was staying with Raffaele, I’d spent the day with the police, and I was talking to the disembodied voices of my family. I needed the ballast I knew my flatmates would give me. We sat around their friend’s kitchen table and talked while Laura and Filomena chain-smoked. It was good to download with them. We were as close to normal as possible and wasted no time in speculating about what could possibly have happened at the villa. One scenario was that Meredith had come into the house, locked the front door behind her, and then the murderer broke in to find her there. After killing her, he stole her key to unlock the front door and ran, leaving the door swinging open in the frigid November breeze. Another was that Meredith had come home alone to find the killer biding his time, waiting inside for the first person through the door. I told them about the blood in the downstairs apartment and my worries that Meredith had been chased around there.
All these possibilities left me feeling chilled.
“It’s strange to me that whoever did this only wrecked one room and didn’t steal anything. Why do you think that was?” I asked.
Laura said, “I don’t know. We just have to let the police do their job. I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”
“The police are grilling me endlessly,” I said.
Filomena said, “I know it’s hard, Amanda. You’ve just got to be patient. They’re fixated on you because you knew Meredith better than we did.”
Laura and Filomena were each consulting a lawyer about how to get out of the lease. No doubt their lawyers were also counseling them on other things, such as how to deal with the police and on our pot-smoking habit, but they didn’t mention any of that.
“Are you okay living with Raffaele? How’s it going?” Laura asked. “Filomena and I are thinking about sharing another place.”
“Would you guys mind if
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