“Patrick?” Meggie asked. “He’s downstairs in our apartment. Emma asked me to come upstairs.”

“Okay,” Claire said. “Before I get into what happened tonight, can you tell me a little bit about your relationship with Mrs. Brighton?”

“With Bev?” Meggie asked. She spread her hands in front of her and took a quick glance at the kitchen. “I didn’t have much of one. She was more Emma’s friend, not mine.”

“But she also was handling some of the legal work for your sister’s clothing company, right? Have you been working with her on that?”

Claire tended to notice the little things, like the way people’s voices changed when they were hiding something. Meggie stayed perfectly still for the most part, but her jaw clenched as she searched for the right response.

“Yes, I’m involved in the clothing line, since I’m the one who designs the clothes,” she snapped, and then she put a hand on her chest. She lowered her voice. “I’m sorry. I’m just used to her doing things like that.”

“Like what?” Claire asked.

“Like taking credit for things that she shouldn’t.”

Claire held the woman’s eye for a moment before continuing. “Your sister owns the building, yes? How long have you lived here?”

“I moved in about two years ago,” Meggie said.

“And your boyfriend?” Claire asked. “When did he move in with you?”

“Two years ago,” Meggie repeated with a frown. “We’ve been together for four.”

Claire nodded. “Tell me about what happened when you got home. What time was it?”

“About two thirty,” she said. “Patrick and I decided to take a walk after the party and go down to Boxer’s over on Walton. We left there at about two fifteen and came back home.”

“Can anyone vouch for that?” Claire asked.

“Sure, the bartender, Kerry. She knows us, and she was there. Anyway, when we walked in, we saw the bloodstains on the wall and carpet and began walking upstairs. It was so out of place. Emma has this carpet cleaned every two weeks or something.” Meggie shuddered, looking down at her hands. “You know how you just know something bad has happened? That’s what I felt in my chest. But we kept walking up, because we knew the blood had to come from somewhere, and then we were almost up to the third floor when we saw her…” She stopped talking and then shook her head as if to get rid of the image.

“Did you see anyone else in the hallway? Or outside the building as you were walking inside?”

“No,” Meggie said, shaking her head again. “There was no one.”

“I need you to think about this carefully. The door to Beverly’s apartment. Was it open?”