THE DOOR WAS partially open with no consideration of personal safety. Decker knocked and a female voice told them to come in. The girl was about five ten and a hundred and ten pounds judging from her sticklike arms. Long blond hair, bright blue eyes, a small upturned nose, thick red lips. She wore a wife beater and board shorts and had slippers on her feet. Skimpy dress to meet the police but it was hot inside. She stuck out a hand. “Julia Kramer. You guys must be the police.”

Yes, we guys are the police. Decker shook her hand. “I’m Detective Decker and this is Detective McAdams. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.” He turned to McAdams whose mouth was slightly agape. Julia smiled, obviously used to male attention. She plopped down on her bed and sat cross-legged. “You guys can sit down if you want.”

“I’m fine standing, but thank you.” Decker looked around the room. It consisted of two beds that had been lofted on high legs for more space, two desks, two chairs, and two closets. “I’m actually here to talk about Angeline Moreau.”

“Why?” Her blue eyes narrowed. “What’s she done?”

“What makes you think she’s done anything? Has she been in trouble before?”

“Not really. I mean not in serious trouble. I mean we had this anal RA. Not anymore, thank God. We forgot our room cards and, yes, it was late. But so what? I mean it’s an art school, right. And she’s getting all amped because we’re a little tipsy. Yes, we were underage at the time. Not anymore thank you very much. But c’mon. Like the school cares?”

Decker pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed, giving her some breathing room but not much. “Does the school care?”

“As long as it’s in a red cup, everyone’s down with that. But I’m guessing you’re not here to talk about two girls getting wasted, right?”

“Right.”

“So what’s going on with Angeline?” She suddenly gasped. “Is she okay?”

“Let me answer your question with a question.” Decker pulled out a notebook. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Oh my God! She’s missing?” She covered her mouth with her hands. “What happened?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Right now we’re trying to get a timeline of her actions. When did you last see her, Julia?”

“Oh my God! I can’t believe I’m actually talking about this!” Her voice was a whisper. “Not Friday . . . maybe Thursday of last week?”

“Morning, evening?”

“Morning, I think. It could have been Wednesday.” She looked up at Decker. “She hardly lives here anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“She rented another place . . . closer to town.”

“So you know about her apartment.”