“Good morning, ma’am, take a seat.”
“Thank you, Officer.”
“Would you like anything to drink? Tea, coffee, water?”
“No, that’s all right.”
“All right. We just want to get a few things cleared up. So, if you could just answer a few questions, we’ll send you on your way.”
“All right.”
“Just so you know, this conversation is being recorded.”
“That’s fine.”
“All right, so, am I right in assuming you are a resident of the apartment building where today’s incident took place?”
“Yes.”
“You live on the fourth floor, in the apartment immediately adjacent to the staircase?”
“Yes.”
“So, a person coming up the stairs, who was in need of assistance, would happen upon your apartment first, is that correct?”
“Yes. There is an apartment opposite mine, too, but the door to mine is closer to the stairwell.”
“I see. That would be a reasonable explanation for why the subject chose your door. Because, as I understand it, the two of you did not know each other prior to today?”
“I have never seen her before. I cannot say whether she knew me or not, though it seems unlikely.”
“Yes, certainly looks like happenstance.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I know you’ve given your statement already, but if you could repeat the sequence of events for us again, it would help put things in perspective.”
“There is nothing more to add to that, really.”
“I understand, ma’am, and I know this may feel redundant to you, but would you mind?”
“Very well.”
“Thank you. Please begin by explaining what you were doing at the time.”
“I was at home. I’m always at home, you see. I much prefer it that way. I was doing a spot of cleaning when the commotion started.”
“Do you work from your residence?”
“I am unemployed.”
“All right. And if you don’t mind me asking, how do you get by?”
“My father left a trust fund in my name. I get a monthly allowance that allows me to live quite comfortably.”
“Okay. How often would you say you leave your home?”
“I don’t.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
“Just to clarify, I am asking if you leave your residence for any purpose whatsoever. To meet a friend, to attend social occasions, to pop down to the cafe or drop by the grocery store, to check your mailbox. Absolutely anything.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay. When was the last time you left your residence before today?”
“Eight months ago.”
“Eight months?!”
“Yes. To attend my husband’s funeral.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, so you haven’t left your house in eight months.”
“No.”
“Do you get visitors, often?”
“Only the people who bring me things I need.”
“No friends? Relatives?”
“No.”
“So, just the grocer, then?”
“The grocer boy comes once a week. He also brings me my mail. My accountant visits weekly as well. She pays the bills and takes care of everything that requires travel, and brings me my monthly allowance. A hairdresser comes once a month, she takes care of all my cosmetic needs. Everyone else is discouraged. My doorman is compensated handsomely to ensure that none other than these people are allowed to visit me.”
“Okay. Let’s get back to the sequence of events. You were cleaning, you said? Which room were you in?”
“I was cleaning the bookshelf in the hall.”
“The hall that connects to the corridor through the main door?”
“Yes.”
“So you were near the door when the subject arrived.”
“Yes.”
“Are the walls in your building very thick?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m wondering if sounds from outside your apartment make their way in with ease or whether the walls block or muffle them.”
“The walls are not very thick.”
“So, a commotion in the corridor would be reasonably audible to you if you stood in the hall, as you were then?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, please continue.”
“I was cleaning the bookshelf, when I heard footsteps thundering up the stairwell. In short order, someone began to bang on the door and scream.”
“Could you describe the voice as you heard it?”
“It was feminine. Not too old. I would guess she was middle aged. She seemed greatly distressed. I couldn’t always tell what she was saying, but it was clear she needed help.”
“All right. And how did you react to this?”
“I… I didn’t.”
“You didn’t react?”
“Not exactly.”
“Could you elaborate on that, please?”
“I was shocked, unused as I am to have someone call at my house like this. I sort of froze momentarily.”
“And then?”
“Then… I resumed cleaning.”
“Excuse me?”
“I resumed cleaning the bookshelf.”
“I’m sorry, this is a bit confusing to me. How long would you say the woman was at your door?”
“About two minutes, at first, I’d suppose.”
“What do you mean, ‘At first’?”
“She came to my door twice.”
“So, after her initial plea for help, she left and then returned once again?”
“She did not leave the building. She tried knocking on the other doors. I do not think she got a response. She returned to my door and tried once again before…”
“Okay. So, the first time around, she came to your door and banged on it while screaming for help. Then she tried the doors of other apartments. None of them were occupied at the time, so naturally, she did not receive a response. She then returned to yours, drawn, possibly by the lights that were on in your apartment. And presumably, her killer arrived shortly after. At what point during these proceedings did you resume cleaning?”
“Does that matter?”
“It could.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“Please answer the question. At what point in the sequence of events did you resume cleaning.”
“During the first attempt.”
“You resumed cleaning while she was still begging you for help?”
“Yes.”
“You did not consider opening the door for her?”
“I did.”
“But you decided against it.”
“Yes.”
“May I ask your reasoning for this decision?”
“I…”
“Well?”
“I was cleaning.”
“And that forced you to abandon this woman’s plea for help?”
“Yes.”
“Was it because you thought that you would endanger yourself by admitting her?”
“No.”
“Did you think she was putting on an act to trick you into letting her in?”
“No.”
“So you didn’t make this decision out of concern for your safety?”
“I am not a coward!”
“I see. But you were cleaning, and so did not open the door.”
“Yes.”
“Do you see why this fails to register as an acceptable excuse?”
“It is not an excuse!”
“Do you think what you did was right?”
“I think what I did was necessary.”
“Cleaning your bookshelf was more necessary than helping save someone’s life?”
“You are oversimplifying the matter.”
“It seems pretty straight-forward to me.”
“I did not come here to be insulted. If I am not a suspect, I would like to go home.”
“You may go as soon as you can tell me why you felt your bookshelf warranted more attention than a human life.”
“You want to know why it was necessary?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. This is my account, in its entirety. You may think of it what you please. And this will be the end of my testimony unless I receive an official summons from a court of law.”
“That’s well and good.”
“All right.
I was born into money. Ridiculous amounts of money. Enough to ensure that I could live a lifetime without knowing what financial worries felt like. My parents knew this, and proceeded to raise me in a way that left me absolutely unable to cope with any problems on my own. I was left toothless and clawless in this most chaotic of worlds. The first inkling I had that all may not be well, was when my mother died. Suddenly, the shadows of lurking worries that had been banished all my life by the light of our fortune began to dance before my eyes. Our household was not what it used to be. Everything got shoddy and messy and spiralled more and more out of control.
I got married off to a man just as blessed in the material sense. Daddy passed soon after, leaving me to my husband’s care. Lacking any other family, I made him my world. I spent eleven years with him, devoting every waking hour to arranging our life so that we could live a long, comfortable life together. And then, just like that, he was gone. All my plans and dreams and arrangements were for nothing. My life lay in ruins.
I came to the realization that every period of perfect serenity in my life had been disturbed by someone else. People were too unpredictable. Things have a wonderfully compliant manner of letting themselves be arranged into neat little categories. People, on the other hand, are chaotic. You cannot plan for people. And so, eight months ago, I made a decision.
I would no longer allow people into my life. If I had to confine myself, I would, but I would surround myself with things under my control. I would surround myself with order. No speck of dust can rear its head in my apartment without my knowing it. In my house there is no compromise, no half measure. Everything has its place and its aesthetic.
In the last eight months, the greatest crisis I have had to face is a temporary shortage in my preferred brand of soap. Many people would kill for such serenity. And I, the same toothless, clawless worm who had changed hands like some family heirloom, had achieved this all on my own.
And then, this woman… This freak comes, shrieking like a banshee, piercing my heart with the ugliness of her screeches, chilling me to the bone. She was no victim. She was the disturbance!
What good would have come of me opening the door? How was I to explain to a hysterical woman how to acceptably sit on a diwan so as not to overly crumple my sheets? Would someone afraid for their life pause to consider the state of their footwear before traipsing their filth all over my carpets? Could I, having been let down at every turn by this most horrid of races, have been expected to be accepting of this most unwelcome intrusion into my sanctity? Am I not right in protecting myself?
Tell me, Officer, having been through what I have been, was my decision not one of necessity, rather than of cowardice?”
The officer stared at her, speechless, as he let her words sink in. Nothing more was said for a long moment.
“I think, if there is nothing more, that I shall be making my way home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
“Thank you, Officer.”
“Would you like anything to drink? Tea, coffee, water?”
“No, that’s all right.”
“All right. We just want to get a few things cleared up. So, if you could just answer a few questions, we’ll send you on your way.”
“All right.”
“Just so you know, this conversation is being recorded.”
“That’s fine.”
“All right, so, am I right in assuming you are a resident of the apartment building where today’s incident took place?”
“Yes.”
“You live on the fourth floor, in the apartment immediately adjacent to the staircase?”
“Yes.”
“So, a person coming up the stairs, who was in need of assistance, would happen upon your apartment first, is that correct?”
“Yes. There is an apartment opposite mine, too, but the door to mine is closer to the stairwell.”
“I see. That would be a reasonable explanation for why the subject chose your door. Because, as I understand it, the two of you did not know each other prior to today?”
“I have never seen her before. I cannot say whether she knew me or not, though it seems unlikely.”
“Yes, certainly looks like happenstance.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I know you’ve given your statement already, but if you could repeat the sequence of events for us again, it would help put things in perspective.”
“There is nothing more to add to that, really.”
“I understand, ma’am, and I know this may feel redundant to you, but would you mind?”
“Very well.”
“Thank you. Please begin by explaining what you were doing at the time.”
“I was at home. I’m always at home, you see. I much prefer it that way. I was doing a spot of cleaning when the commotion started.”
“Do you work from your residence?”
“I am unemployed.”
“All right. And if you don’t mind me asking, how do you get by?”
“My father left a trust fund in my name. I get a monthly allowance that allows me to live quite comfortably.”
“Okay. How often would you say you leave your home?”
“I don’t.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
“Just to clarify, I am asking if you leave your residence for any purpose whatsoever. To meet a friend, to attend social occasions, to pop down to the cafe or drop by the grocery store, to check your mailbox. Absolutely anything.”
“I don’t.”
“Okay. When was the last time you left your residence before today?”
“Eight months ago.”
“Eight months?!”
“Yes. To attend my husband’s funeral.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, so you haven’t left your house in eight months.”
“No.”
“Do you get visitors, often?”
“Only the people who bring me things I need.”
“No friends? Relatives?”
“No.”
“So, just the grocer, then?”
“The grocer boy comes once a week. He also brings me my mail. My accountant visits weekly as well. She pays the bills and takes care of everything that requires travel, and brings me my monthly allowance. A hairdresser comes once a month, she takes care of all my cosmetic needs. Everyone else is discouraged. My doorman is compensated handsomely to ensure that none other than these people are allowed to visit me.”
“Okay. Let’s get back to the sequence of events. You were cleaning, you said? Which room were you in?”
“I was cleaning the bookshelf in the hall.”
“The hall that connects to the corridor through the main door?”
“Yes.”
“So you were near the door when the subject arrived.”
“Yes.”
“Are the walls in your building very thick?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’m wondering if sounds from outside your apartment make their way in with ease or whether the walls block or muffle them.”
“The walls are not very thick.”
“So, a commotion in the corridor would be reasonably audible to you if you stood in the hall, as you were then?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, please continue.”
“I was cleaning the bookshelf, when I heard footsteps thundering up the stairwell. In short order, someone began to bang on the door and scream.”
“Could you describe the voice as you heard it?”
“It was feminine. Not too old. I would guess she was middle aged. She seemed greatly distressed. I couldn’t always tell what she was saying, but it was clear she needed help.”
“All right. And how did you react to this?”
“I… I didn’t.”
“You didn’t react?”
“Not exactly.”
“Could you elaborate on that, please?”
“I was shocked, unused as I am to have someone call at my house like this. I sort of froze momentarily.”
“And then?”
“Then… I resumed cleaning.”
“Excuse me?”
“I resumed cleaning the bookshelf.”
“I’m sorry, this is a bit confusing to me. How long would you say the woman was at your door?”
“About two minutes, at first, I’d suppose.”
“What do you mean, ‘At first’?”
“She came to my door twice.”
“So, after her initial plea for help, she left and then returned once again?”
“She did not leave the building. She tried knocking on the other doors. I do not think she got a response. She returned to my door and tried once again before…”
“Okay. So, the first time around, she came to your door and banged on it while screaming for help. Then she tried the doors of other apartments. None of them were occupied at the time, so naturally, she did not receive a response. She then returned to yours, drawn, possibly by the lights that were on in your apartment. And presumably, her killer arrived shortly after. At what point during these proceedings did you resume cleaning?”
“Does that matter?”
“It could.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“Please answer the question. At what point in the sequence of events did you resume cleaning.”
“During the first attempt.”
“You resumed cleaning while she was still begging you for help?”
“Yes.”
“You did not consider opening the door for her?”
“I did.”
“But you decided against it.”
“Yes.”
“May I ask your reasoning for this decision?”
“I…”
“Well?”
“I was cleaning.”
“And that forced you to abandon this woman’s plea for help?”
“Yes.”
“Was it because you thought that you would endanger yourself by admitting her?”
“No.”
“Did you think she was putting on an act to trick you into letting her in?”
“No.”
“So you didn’t make this decision out of concern for your safety?”
“I am not a coward!”
“I see. But you were cleaning, and so did not open the door.”
“Yes.”
“Do you see why this fails to register as an acceptable excuse?”
“It is not an excuse!”
“Do you think what you did was right?”
“I think what I did was necessary.”
“Cleaning your bookshelf was more necessary than helping save someone’s life?”
“You are oversimplifying the matter.”
“It seems pretty straight-forward to me.”
“I did not come here to be insulted. If I am not a suspect, I would like to go home.”
“You may go as soon as you can tell me why you felt your bookshelf warranted more attention than a human life.”
“You want to know why it was necessary?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. This is my account, in its entirety. You may think of it what you please. And this will be the end of my testimony unless I receive an official summons from a court of law.”
“That’s well and good.”
“All right.
I was born into money. Ridiculous amounts of money. Enough to ensure that I could live a lifetime without knowing what financial worries felt like. My parents knew this, and proceeded to raise me in a way that left me absolutely unable to cope with any problems on my own. I was left toothless and clawless in this most chaotic of worlds. The first inkling I had that all may not be well, was when my mother died. Suddenly, the shadows of lurking worries that had been banished all my life by the light of our fortune began to dance before my eyes. Our household was not what it used to be. Everything got shoddy and messy and spiralled more and more out of control.
I got married off to a man just as blessed in the material sense. Daddy passed soon after, leaving me to my husband’s care. Lacking any other family, I made him my world. I spent eleven years with him, devoting every waking hour to arranging our life so that we could live a long, comfortable life together. And then, just like that, he was gone. All my plans and dreams and arrangements were for nothing. My life lay in ruins.
I came to the realization that every period of perfect serenity in my life had been disturbed by someone else. People were too unpredictable. Things have a wonderfully compliant manner of letting themselves be arranged into neat little categories. People, on the other hand, are chaotic. You cannot plan for people. And so, eight months ago, I made a decision.
I would no longer allow people into my life. If I had to confine myself, I would, but I would surround myself with things under my control. I would surround myself with order. No speck of dust can rear its head in my apartment without my knowing it. In my house there is no compromise, no half measure. Everything has its place and its aesthetic.
In the last eight months, the greatest crisis I have had to face is a temporary shortage in my preferred brand of soap. Many people would kill for such serenity. And I, the same toothless, clawless worm who had changed hands like some family heirloom, had achieved this all on my own.
And then, this woman… This freak comes, shrieking like a banshee, piercing my heart with the ugliness of her screeches, chilling me to the bone. She was no victim. She was the disturbance!
What good would have come of me opening the door? How was I to explain to a hysterical woman how to acceptably sit on a diwan so as not to overly crumple my sheets? Would someone afraid for their life pause to consider the state of their footwear before traipsing their filth all over my carpets? Could I, having been let down at every turn by this most horrid of races, have been expected to be accepting of this most unwelcome intrusion into my sanctity? Am I not right in protecting myself?
Tell me, Officer, having been through what I have been, was my decision not one of necessity, rather than of cowardice?”
The officer stared at her, speechless, as he let her words sink in. Nothing more was said for a long moment.
“I think, if there is nothing more, that I shall be making my way home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
