In the guest suite, my mother’s clothes were lined up by color.
Cream.
Ivory.
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Navy.
Black.
She had taken the largest room in the house after I left.
Not the guest suite.
Our room.
Sophia’s jewelry box sat open on the dresser.
Empty.
I stood there looking at the velvet compartments.
Naomi watched from the doorway.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Do you want a minute?”
“No.”
I took photos.
Then I opened the closet.
Sophia’s clothes had been pushed to the far end. My mother’s coats hung in front. Audrey’s shopping bags filled the floor.
In one bag, Detective Harris found receipts.
Pawn shop.
Designer boutique.
Wine bar.
Spa resort.
Storage facility.
The receipts were folded inside one of Leo’s burp cloths.
That detail stayed with me.
Not the amount.
Not the brand names.
That.
A burp cloth.
