holding her tightly, feeling her bones through the jumpsuit. The
guard left the room and clanged the heavy door shut behind her.
For a moment, the
two friends stood together without speaking, the sounds of Julia’s ragged
weeping echoing off the bare walls of the room. Maggie’s own tears had quickly
given away to a steely anger the moment she touched Julia. That anyone could have the power to reduce a person to this! Only
yesterday, Julia had been vibrant and beautiful, impish and in control. She
wasn’t the same person today, so broken and lost.
Maggie drew Julia
to the table and urged her to sit on it with her. She had nothing with which to
wipe her friend’s tears so she used her fingers to wipe them away, then held Julia’s
hands tightly in her own.
“This won’t last,
Jules. I swear it won’t last much longer.”
Julia withdrew a hand
and wiped at her tears, but more took their place. Her face was lined and
slack.
“Are you eating?”
Maggie knew it was a stupid question but she didn’t know what else to say. Julia
had no control over what was happening to her, but she could at least keep her
strength up.
Julia shook her
head. “I can’t,” she said, her voice a whimper.
Maggie rubbed a hand
up her friend’s arm. Never before had she so accurately seen a representation
of someone who was literally a shadow of her former self. The transformation
had happened so quickly and so severely Maggie was having trouble recognizing
the friend she had known so well for the last several months. If it weren’t for
the head of curls, even the graying deflated curls, she might not have
recognized her.
“This won’t
last,” Maggie said again, although her stomach twisted when she said it.
Honestly, she had no idea if the current situation would last or not. Roger had
told her at lunch that because Julia was English, she was considered a flight
risk and wouldn’t be eligible for bail. It
might very well last , she thought miserably, looking at her friend. It might, in fact, go on for months and
months.
“My attorney is
not optimistic.”
“We’ll get you
another one.”
“I don’t think it
will help.”
“Has the British
consulate been in to see you?”
“They are who
arranged for the useless attorney.”
“Is there anything
I can get for you?” Maggie felt so helpless. She felt guilty too, for the fact
that she would be able to walk out of that claustrophobic, unhappy room when it
was time.
“I didn’t kill
him, Maggie,” Julia said, her face pinched and searching. She squeezed Maggie’s
hands and Maggie resisted the urge to pull away. “I swear I didn’t kill him. I
mean, there were plenty of times that I wanted to and, honestly, even now I’m
not sorry he’s dead—”
“Jules, don’t talk,”
Maggie murmured. “The room is monitored.”
“I mean, I spent
about five minutes astounded that he was gone and then the rest of the time,
absolutely delighted.”
“Julia, shut up,”
Maggie said fiercely. “Are you saying this shit to your counsel? Or the police?”
“I don’t know,” Julia
said miserably. “I’m not used to watching my words. I am an artist. I express
myself.”
“Well, don’t. At
least not while you’re in here. It’s all very well not to like someone, but
when they fall down dead and people are pointing a finger at you don’t talk
about how much you didn’t like them. Okay?”
“They say I
poisoned him.”
“I know.”
“And that the
mushroom omelet I made is what killed him, but that’s impossible.”
“How so? It would
be really helpful to your defense if you can answer that with something
tangible.”
“I made it with
Death Trumpets, not agaricus.”
“Is there another
name for Death Trumpets that doesn’t sound quite so indicting?” Maggie asked in
frustration. “I mean, are you going around telling people you fed him Death Trumpets ?”
“Well, I did feed him Death Trumpets,” Julia
said, her eyes wide and innocent. “I ate