‘Did you know where she lived?’
‘Her address is in the phone book.’
‘Did you write to her first?’
‘No, I was afraid to do that. Afraid she wouldn’t want to see me.’
‘So you just came east.’
‘Yes.’
Carella looked at his notes.
‘Would you know your sister’s social security number?’ he asked.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t.’
‘The bank she worked for was Suncoast Federal, did you say? In California, I mean.’
‘Yes.’
‘And the bank she worked for here in the...’
‘I told you. I don’t know which...’
‘Yes, but when was this, would you know? When you heard from your friend that she was working for a bank here.’
‘Oh. Two years ago? Perhaps a year and a half. I couldn’t say with any accuracy.’
‘Would you know if she was still working at this bank? Immediately before her death, I mean.’
‘I have no idea.’
‘You haven’t stayed in touch with your friend?’
‘I have. But she’s living in Chicago now.’
‘Then for the past two years—a year and a half, whatever it was—you really didn’t know what your sister was doing.’
‘That’s right. We lost touch completely. That’s why I came here.’
‘And you arrived on October twenty-seventh, is that right?’ Carella said.
‘Yes. Last Thursday.’
‘Checked into this hotel, did you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Planning to stay how long?’
‘As long as was necessary. To see my sister, to ... make amends ... to ask her to come home.’
‘For Christmas.’
‘Forever.’ Inge sighed heavily and leaned over to the ashtray again, crushing out her cigarette. ‘I missed her. I loved her.’
‘When you arrived, Miss Turner, did you try to contact your sister?’
‘Yes, of course. I phoned her at once.’
‘This was on the twenty-seventh of October?’
‘Yes. My plane got in at six, a little after six, and it took a half hour to get into the city from the airport. I phoned her the moment I was in the room.’
‘And?’
‘There was no answer.’
‘Was she living alone, would you know?’
‘Yes. Well, I didn’t learn that until later. When I went to her apartment.’
‘When did you do that?’
‘Two days later. I’d been calling her repeatedly and ... well ... there was no answer, you see.’
‘So you suspected something was wrong, did you?’
‘Well, I didn’t know what to think. I mean, I’d been calling her day and night. I set my alarm one night ... this was the night after I arrived ... for three a.m., and I called her then and still got no answer. I went to her apartment the very next day.’
‘That would have been...’
‘Well, the twenty-ninth, I suppose. A Saturday, I guess I was hoping she’d be home on a Saturday.’
‘But she wasn’t, of course.’
‘No. She ... was dead by then. But I ... didn’t know that at the time. I went up to her apartment and rang the doorbell and got no answer. I found the superintendent of the building, told him who I was, and asked if he had any idea where my sister might be. He ... he said he hadn’t seen her in ...in ... three or four weeks.’
‘What did he say exactly, Miss Turner? Three weeks, or four?’
‘I think that’s exactly what he said. Three or four weeks.’
‘And he told you that she was living there alone?’
‘Yes.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘Well, I... I suppose I should have gone directly to the police, but I ... you see, I was somewhat confused. The possibility existed that she’d met someone, some man, and had moved in with him. That was a possibility.’ She paused. ‘My sister wasn’t gay,’ she said, and reached for her package of cigarettes again, and then changed her mind about lighting one.
‘When did you contact the police?’ Brown asked.
‘On Monday morning.’
Carella looked at his pocket calendar.
‘October thirty-first,’ he said.
‘Yes. Halloween,’ Inge said. ‘They told me they’d turn it over to Missing Persons and let me know if anything resulted. I gave them an old photo I had ... I still carried it in my wallet... and apparently Detective Lipman was able to match that against the ... the picture you just showed me. He called me yesterday. I went down there and ... and made identification.’
The room was silent.
‘Miss Turner,’ Carella said, ‘we realize you hadn’t seen your sister in a long time...’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘... and Los Angeles is a long way from here. But ... would you have heard anything over the years ... anything at all ... from your friend or anyone else ... about any enemies your sister may have made in this city...’
‘No.’
‘... any threatening telephone calls or letters she may have...’
‘No.’
‘... any involvement with criminals or...’
‘No.’
‘... people engaged, even tangentially, in criminal activities?’
‘No.’
‘Would you know if she owed money to anyone?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘She wasn’t doing drugs, was she?’ Brown asked.
The question nowadays was almost mandatory.
‘Not that I know of,’ Inge said. ‘In fact...’
She stopped herself mid-sentence.
‘Yes?’ Carella said.
‘Well, I was only going to say ... well, in fact, that was one of the things she objected to.’
‘What was that, Miss Turner?’
‘My friends and I did a few lines every now and then.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s common in Los Angeles.’
‘But your sister never, to your knowledge...’
‘Not in L.A., no. I don’t know what she might have got into once she came here.’ She paused, and then said, ‘L.A. is civilized.’
Neither of the detectives said anything.
‘You see,’ Inge said, ‘this whole thing is so unbelievable. I mean, you’d have to have known Lizzie to realize that... that dying this way, dying a violent death, someone shooting her ... well, it’s unimaginable. She was a very quiet, private sort of person. My friends used to speculate on whether she’d ever even been kissed, do you know what I’m saying? So when you ... when you ... when the mind tries to associate Lizzie, sweet goddamn innocent Lizzie with a ... with a gun, with someone holding a gun to the back of her head and shooting her ... it’s ... I mean, the mind can’t possibly make that connection, it can’t make that quantum leap.’