Claire put her pen down. “I’m just trying to get a sense of everything that happened tonight,” she said. Emma didn’t say anything else for a few moments, and Claire spoke again. “Ms. Bentley?”

“Oh, no,” she said. “No, nothing stood out. We ate, we had a nice time, and everyone went home.”

“Okay, I think that’s enough for now,” Claire said, pushing back her chair and standing up. She took a look around the kitchen, surveying the room. It was tidy, with very little evidence that there had been a dinner party there that night aside from a few large foil pans stacked on top of the trash can. Claire walked over to the door to the back porch and looked at it. Pulling a cloth from her pocket, she tried the doorknob and saw that it was locked, then checked the dead bolt.

“Did you leave your apartment at any time tonight?” she asked.

“Sorry?”

“I know you had guests coming and going. But did you leave your apartment? Either through this back door or the front?”

Emma frowned, standing up and walking closer to the back door where Claire was standing. “No,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I’m just trying to figure out how someone might have gotten into the building and attacked Mrs. Brighton.”

“I thought they said the back door was broken into.”

“It was,” Claire said. “But I’ve been doing this long enough to know that the first and most obvious answer is not always the right one. I just want to make sure there’s no other way the person who did this could’ve gotten in.”

“Wait,” Emma said, the frown on her face deepening. “Are you saying…you think someone came in through the back porch, walked through my apartment while I was sleeping, and…” She trailed off, her voice catching, and she put a hand on her stomach. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I’m not saying that happened,” Claire said. “I’m just trying to rule out all possibilities.”

Emma swallowed and then shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said. “A few people went out to smoke after dinner. When they came back in, I locked the door from the inside. I remember it.”

“One more question,” Claire said. “What was Beverly’s relationship with her husband like? Any problems you know of?”

“With Andrew?” Emma asked incredulously. “No, absolutely not. He adores her. He would never…” She shook her head.

“Is there anyone else you know who might have had a problem with Beverly?”

Emma hesitated, and Claire took a step forward.

“Any information you have is helpful, Ms. Bentley.”

“Well, she did have a little…” She shook her head and looked down at her hands. “I shouldn’t.”

“Please, Mrs. Bentley.”