“Nothing happened to Melodie, and nothing will,” Eve interrupted. “Go on, Melodie.”
“She just asked me to keep it, not to tell about what was going on, not to tell anyone that she gave it to me. It’s private, it’s a diary. It wouldn’t be right for strangers to read her private thoughts. She could trust me because we’re best friends. And I took it back to her last night, just like she asked. Now she’ll be mad at me because I told.”
“No, she won’t.” Angela said it absently, staring at Eve’s face. “It’s going to be all right, don’t worry.” She rose, standing Melodie on her feet. “I’m proud that you told the truth, because that was the right thing to do, and the hard thing to do. You go on, get yourself a cherry fizzy. I’ll be right there.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been mean to you.”
“I’m sorry, too, sweetie. Go get us both a big fizzy.”
Sniffling, Melodie nodded, and left the room, dragging her heels.
“I don’t know why you’d need a child’s diary. I don’t understand how that could possibly pertain to your investigation.”
“It’s an element that requires attention.”
“You’re not going to tell me what I need or want to know about this, and my daughter needs my attention. But I want you to tell me if I should keep Melodie away from the Straffos. I want you to tell me if her being with Rayleen and the family is dangerous to her.”
“I don’t believe she’s in any danger, but you may feel more comfortable, for the time being, restricting that contact.” Better, all around, Eve thought, and made sure Angela understood it. “It’s important that neither you nor Melodie speak of this conversation or the diary to the Straffos, or to anyone else.”
“I think Melodie and I are going away for the rest of the weekend, maybe take a long weekend trip.” Angela let out an unsteady breath. “She can start school on Tuesday.”
“That sounds like a nice idea,” Eve said. “I’m no authority on kids, Ms. Miles-Branch, but my impression is you’ve got a good one there.”
“I’ve got a very good one there. Thank you.”
Eve gave Peabody a chance to speak as they rode down from the Miles-Branch apartment. When she remained silent, Eve waited until they were in the car.
“Thoughts? Comments? Questions?”
“I guess I’m compiling them.” Peabody puffed out her cheeks. “I have to say, on the surface, it seems pretty innocent, and fairly typical, for a kid to hide her diary, or ask a trusted friend to hold it for her if she’s afraid somebody—an adult, an authority figure—is going to put eyes on it. Girls, especially girls, are hypersensitive about that kind of thing.”
“And under the surface?”
“Which is where
you’re looking, and I get that. From that point of view, the fact that there is a diary, that Rayleen went to some trouble to get it out of the house before we searched, adds a certain weight to your theory.”
And Eve heard the doubt. “But from where you’re sitting, it’s still typical girl stuff.”
“It’s pretty hard for me to see it differently. Sorry, Dallas, she is a girl.”
“What if she were sixteen, or twenty-six?”
“Dallas, you know there’s a world of difference.”
“That’s what I’m trying to decide,” Eve said, and swung toward the curb in front of the Straffos’ building.
It was Allika who opened the door. She looked pinched and heavy-eyed, like someone who’d slept poorly several nights running. She wasn’t yet dressed for the day, and wore a long gray robe.
“Please,” she said, “can’t you leave us alone?”
“We need to speak with you, Mrs. Straffo. We’d prefer to do it inside, where it’s private and you can be comfortable.”
“Why do the police feel being interrogated in your own home is comfortable?”
“I said speak with you, not interrogate you. Is there a reason you’re hesitant to hold a conversation with us?”
Allika closed her eyes a moment. “I’ll need to contact my husband.”