You Can Trust Me by Sophie McKenzie Read Free Book Online

happened—news having somehow spread.
    But then Thursday comes and, with it, the first piece of news from the postmortem. Julia’s mother calls to tell me. She sounds angry but resigned.
    Julia’s body contained lethal doses of Nembutal as well as three times the legal driving limit of alcohol.
    â€œWe have to face it, Livy,” she says. “Julia killed herself.”
    The words are too brutal. The idea is impossible.
    â€œNo,” I say. “Julia would never—”
    â€œThe postmortem is clear. There was nothing else wrong with her.”
    â€œBut—”
    â€œLivy, this isn’t helpful.” Julia’s mother is cold and hard. “The police found evidence on her computer of Web sites she’d visited going back two months, plus a brochure about Nembutal on her desk.”
    â€œBut … but all that was for an article she was researching on suicides in the fashion industry. She told me about it,” I explain. “Some young girl killed herself, and Julia was looking into a connection with the fashion industry using skinny models.”
    I suck in my breath, remembering Julia shaking her head as she told me about the pressures on some of the models she had spoken to.
    They all think they’re too fat, she’d said wearily. They skip breakfast, lunch is black coffee and a cigarette, then it’s a paper tissue for dinner. They’re worse than dancers.…
    â€œNo article was ever published,” Joanie insists. “No one commissioned her to write one.”
    â€œI know,” I say. “She was just interested.”
    â€œExactly.”
    There’s a long silence. I rack my brains, trying to work out how I can convince Joanie there is no way Julia would have killed herself.
    Then Joanie clears her throat. “She left a note, Livy.”
    My mind reels. Julia left a suicide note? No, that goes against everything I’ve ever known about her. “What does it say?”
    â€œPlease, Livy.” Julia’s mother’s voice, then her words, cut me like a knife. “It was addressed to me … well, to the family. It’s private.”
    What is she saying? I am … was … Julia’s best friend. “Please.” My voice breaks. I can’t bear the thought that Julia left a note I can’t read. “I need to know, to understand.”
    â€œIt was on the open screen, on her computer. The police found it. It just says … ‘To my family. I’m sorry, I can’t go on. Please make no fuss, no flowers, no religious service. Just remember me kindly. I love you. Julia.’ It’s very short. There’s no reason given.” Now Julia’s mother sounds hurt. Her voice trembles. “This is very hard for me.”
    â€œI know, I’m sorry.” I speak the words, but inside I’m raging. I don’t believe this … can’t believe this. There is no way Julia would write such a note.… Make no fuss. Indeed—she lived for drama; no way she wouldn’t have spoken to me.
    And then I remember her missed call and the text she sent:
    PLS CALL. I NEED TO TALK TO YOU.
    She tried to speak to me. And I ignored her.
    â€œI’ll let you know the details of the funeral,” Joanie continues briskly. “It would be helpful if you could e-mail me a list of friends, colleagues, people we should invite.”
    â€œI can help contacting people too,” I offer.
    â€œThank you, but we can manage. I’m with Robbie and Wendy.”
    My breath catches in my throat. Irrationally, I feel hurt. And on Julia’s behalf too. She would hate to think of her brother and sister-in-law organizing anything connected with her.
    â€œPlease, I’d like to help—”
    â€œThat’s very kind of you, but we have everything under control. It will be a nondenominational service, in line with Julia’s wishes about not having a religious