She stood and started for the door.

I followed, wanting to keep her talking.

Once outside, Claudette lit the cigarette, slid it into her mouth, and turned, surprised to see me standing beside her.

She held the cigarette case out to me.“Care to join?”

“No, thank you.”

“Then why have you accompanied me?”

“I’m a little impatient, I suppose.I’d like to know more about what your sister’s letter said.”

“In short, there were no apologies, no regrets.With Marlon gone, she was sad and depressed.She felt alone, and while she expressed interest in us patching things up and leaving the past behind, she was angry and disappointed with how I’d refused to relent after all these years.I could tell.”

“How did the letter end?”

“She asked if there was anything she could do to make things right between us.She told me she loved me and always had.”

“Did you write her back?”

“I did not.”

Though stoic since she’d first walked through the door, Claudette was beginning to crack, the armor she’d been shielding herself with chipping away.I could hear it in her voice, see it in her expression, and in her eyes, which were pooling with tears.

“You regret not writing her back,” I said.“I can tell.”

“I regret nothing.”

“There’s no reason not to admit it to me.I’m not here to judge you.I’m here to listen.”

“To what?The sound of an old woman yammering on about things she cannot change?”

Things she cannot change.

She could have been referring to her refusal to make things right with her sister.But I believed there was something more, a deep-seated guilt, a guilt that drove her to me today.If she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have bothered.

“Why are you here, Claudette?”I asked.“What made you decide to hire me?”

“I already told you.I want you to find the person who murdered my sister.”She slid the cigarette case inside her bag.“Name your price.”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“When I take on a client, I want to feel confident they are being transparent with me.”

“Are you implying I’m not?”

“I’m implying there’s something you aren’t telling me,” I said.

Claudette shook her head and flicked the butt of her cigarette on the ground, snuffing it out with the heel of her red-bottom Louboutin shoe.“I’m not making an effort to keep things from you.”

“But you are.”

“It’s more complicated than you know.”

“Complicated how?”