“I’d appreciate just a few minutes of your time,” Claire said before introducing herself. “I spoke with your girlfriend, and she said you were down here. I know it’s been a rough night, but this will only take a moment.”

“A rough night?” Patrick asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what you call this?” He sighed and stepped back into the apartment, letting her inside. “This is just so completely fucked up. Where is Meggie anyway?”

“I think she’s still upstairs with her sister.” Claire stepped all the way into the room and looked around. Layout-wise, it looked a lot like the other two units, but the decor was much more colorful and crafty. They stopped in the living room near the couch, but Patrick didn’t sit, nor did he invite Claire to.

“What can I tell you?” he asked.

“How about you start with what happened when you and Meggie got home?”

He frowned. “Didn’t she already tell you?” Claire didn’t respond, and he sighed. “Oh, I get it. You want to see if our stories match up. If this isn’t the biggest crock of…” He took a deep breath and sighed. “We went to Boxer’s, came home around two thirty, walked in, saw the blood on the carpet and the wall, and went upstairs to check it out. And when we got to the top, we saw her freaking hand.” He swallowed and took a breath. “The blood on the carpet really stood out to us. I mean, that thing is always spotless. I think Emma has it cleaned every two weeks.”

Claire frowned. Meggie had used almost those exact words, which made her wonder: Had they rehearsed their story?

And more importantly, why?

She made a mental note of it and moved on. “One of the other tenants mentioned that you’ve had some run-ins with Beverly in the past,” she said.

He sighed. “One of the other tenants? You mean Emma? Look, Bev and I certainly weren’t best friends after she accused me of stealing her necklace. Which I didn’t do, if you’re wondering. I’m a lot of things, but I’m no thief. Still, I wouldn’t bash her over it. Not my style.”

“What about anyone else at the party tonight? Anyone else have any issues with Beverly? Anyone you think could’ve done this?”

He shrugged. “Maybe that creepy store owner? He kept coming on to Bev all night, and she wasn’t too happy about it.”

Claire frowned. “Okay,” she said. “And you were the last to leave?”

“Yeah, me and Meggie. Around one.”

“What can you tell me about Chris?”

“Who?”

“The artist who was at the dinner party tonight?”

“Oh, Emma’s weird friend?” he asked. “Not much.”

“You know, we found one of her shoes underneath Emma’s couch,” Claire said.