“He came by, maybe an hour ago, thinking you would be here. I told him I’d check on the apartment and let him know if you came around. He told me what had happened to Claudia and I couldn’t believe it. How… unfair. How absolutely, horribly unfair.” Sarah seemed to be on the verge of tears. She was elegant as always, wearing a silver lace blouse and black trousers, but she no longer looked like an Amazonian version of Grace Kelly, but like a deflated, exhausted middle-aged woman who’d had too much cosmetic surgery.

“I just can’t believe it,” I said.

“Do you want to talk at my place?” Sarah asked. “I have some of those lovely Portuguese pastries you like from the bakery downstairs.”

I wondered what she meant. When had we discussed pastry? “I don’t have any appetite, but thanks anyway. I think I’ll just go through some of Claudia’s things.”

Company was the last thing I wanted, but I knew I was being an ingrate. Still, I’d remembered what it was about Sarah that had been bothering me, and I didn’t want to deal with it now. I called Jesse from Claudia’s landline, leaving another message. “Sarah told me that you were looking for me at Claudia’s. That’s where I am now. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

I went into the bedroom. My purse was still sitting on the bed. As I looked around the room, I knew I would have to deal with all of this stuff at some point. It made me want to get on the next plane to Spain. I opened the closet and rifled through the clothing. It would be easy enough to give away the items that Trina Greene had acquired, but some of my sister’s things were mixed in there, too. Living with Alexander Gorevale had given her a certain confidence and polish. At much as I hated to think of her being preyed upon by him, I wished that I’d seen her in that state. I’d been looking forward to seeing her on my Labor Day trip, but I’d waited too long to visit. I’d left everything until it was too late.

There was another knock on the door. It was Sarah again, this time holding a silver tray and two beautiful white china mugs. Her Hermès Birkin bag hung from the crook of one elbow.

“Make yourself at home.” My tone was grudging. Sarah had been pushy from the moment we first met, and I’d finally figured out why.

“I thought you might like some tea, Lily.” She set the tray on a chair and handed me a cup and saucer, then took one herself. “I was thinking that perhaps I could help you plan the funeral.”

“That’s all right.”