My driver pulls over to the curb steps away from the Met and unlocks my door, letting me know we’ve arrived. I tell him to stay near, that I won’t be long, and then head into the small Greek restaurant on the corner. As soon as the staff spots me, they bring me a plate of moussaka and a single glass of champagne. I look down at the casserole, and then glance around the restaurant, checking the other tables, the front entrance, and lose my appetite. I don’t touch the food. I check my phone, and when I glance up again, I see her heading to the table, hair down, heels high, smile wide in anticipation.

“Hey,” she says.

I look up, but don’t speak. I’m still not used to being cordial to her. It doesn’t feel right. It never will.

“So how long will it take?” Izzy asks as she takes the seat across from me, almost whispering now.

I tilt my face. “The food?”

“The money.” She pauses, glances over her shoulder and then looks back at me. “You transferred the funds, right? I checked my account and I still don’t see the dep—”

“Izzy. There’s no transfer.” I stare at her hard; there’s no give to my expression.

Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens. “What are you talking about? You said you got the deposit yesterday.”

“I did. I figured the least I could do was buy you something to splash against your throat. Couldn’t have done this without you.”

Which is true.

Which is why I lift the champagne flute and hand it to her.

She stares at it, but doesn’t take it, doesn’t even blink. “I don’t understand.”

I watch her, the glass still hovering in the air above my moussaka. “You forfeited your cut when you spoon-fed that bitch my motive.”

“I told you it was an accident. She was snoop—I didn’t say anything. She found the will and—”

I get up from the table and head for the door.

I never should have trusted her, but I had no choice. I needed someone in that room, someone to make sure my father used the glasses I’d already lined for his drink. I couldn’t be there that night. I had to be far away from the house, in the city. I needed my alibi to be firm and indestructible.

I needed her.

Izzy does her best to keep up with me as I shuffle across the street, cutting off an army of yellow cabs in my thigh-high boots.

Her exasperated voice hits my back. “I didn’t tell her about the will. She snuck into Simon’s desk and found it.”

I glance back at her but keep moving. “You shouldn’t have had it lying around. What are you, stupid or crazy?”

She lets out a frustrated sound. “I poured the drink. I earned my cut.”