Page 27 of Wild Idol
“Was she dealing?”
“Not that I know of.” His eyes drifted away, deep in thought.
“Do you know who her supplier was?”
“She used to buy from a guy named Ronald. But that guy’s no killer.”
“Do you have a last name?”
“No. He hangs out at the clubs. Tall, skinny guy. Long blond hair. You can probably find him at Bumper, dealing tabs of molly and shitty coke.”
“Did you know Emily was stalking Sable?”
He nodded. “I’d heard some stuff.”
“It’s my understanding she broke into her house a few times.”
“Yeah, that’s what I heard. That’s part of the reason we broke up. She just kept going more and more off the deep end. I just wanted my girlfriend back, but that girl was long gone.”
“How well do you know, Alyssa?”
Matt shrugged. “I mean, she was Emily‘s best friend. We hung out quite a bit.”
“Did you ever do more than hang out?”
“What do you mean? “
I gave him a look. He knew what I meant.
Matt frowned at me. “No. I wouldn’t do something like that.” He paused. “What are you getting at?”
“Like I said, I’m just looking for people who might have had a reason to harm Emily.”
“Seems to me like she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sable must have pissed somebody off. She got into that feud with Brianna.”
“We’re aware.”
I dug into my pocket and gave him a card. “Get in touch if you hear anything.”
He nodded and said he would.
We left the apartment and walked back to the parking lot. JD and I hopped into the Porsche and drove across town to find Alyssa. She lived in a luxury midrise on Crescent Avenue.
Jack pulled into the visitors’ lot and found a place to park. We hopped out and hustled to the main entrance. I dialed random apartments at the call box until somebody buzzed us in.
We stepped into the lobby and made our way to the elevators. Alyssa lived on the sixth floor. It was a nice building, popular with young professionals. There was a rooftop pool, a sauna, a workout room, and all the amenities.
We banged on the door to #612.
After a moment, footsteps padded down the foyer. Alyssa called through the door, “Who is it?”
I flashed my badge to the peephole and made introductions.
She pulled open the door and looked at us with concerned eyes. With a sad expression, she said, “I guess you’re here about Emily.”
I nodded.
“I just talked to Margret. She told me two cops stopped by her house last night. Is she really dead?”
