Blanche (Chapter 3)

The morning of March 7, 2024

I spotted them the second I turned onto our — or I guess now I should say my — private drive. There were three of them, two women and one man, leaning against the side of the police car. All with coffees in hand and sunglasses on. The man and the red headed woman wore police uniforms I’d often see around town. The blonde woman was dressed in slacks and a tightly tucked in blouse.

It’s important to me that you know I don’t typically call pants “slacks,” but the style reminded me of pants that, once upon a time, could only have been described by that name. I don’t make the rules.

Without realizing, I had slowed to a crawl. They all looked over, eyeing my white Range Rover, as it inched closer to them at a reluctant roll.

My mind raced to Aleksandra and Milena. “Has something happened to my girls?” I wondered frantically. But surely that couldn’t be it. I had just dropped them off at school less than ten minutes ago and these cops looked like they’d been here at least that long. With that fear slightly eased, I took a deep breath, wishing I had put a bra on before I left the house this morning.

With my arms crossed — not out of rudeness but as a makeshift bra — I climbed down towards them. “Good morning… can I help you?” trying my best to sound like a stand-up citizen. I don’t know what it is about police officers but the second I see one I automatically feel like I’ve done something wrong.

“Are you Blanche Ilić?” the women asked in unison.

“Yes, I am.”

“My name is Blake, Officer Blake,” the redhead shared. “This is Officer Singh” pointing at the male officer. “And, this is Detective Laney,” eyeing the one in the slacks.

I tried to make eye contact with each of them. Criminals don’t make eye contact, right? God, I didn’t know what I was guilty of but their stares made me feel like I was about to find out. “Nice to meet you all. How can I help you?”

“Can we come inside to discuss something sensitive with you?” Detective Laney requested.

“Ok,” my stomach churned. “Come on in.”

I walked the trio through the front door. It felt too casual, even inappropriate, to walk them through the garage where they’d be expected to hurdle over the bikes, scooters, and helmets strewn about. Sash was always more of the disciplinarian so things had gotten a little lax since he moved out.

I stood in the foyer as Midnight came barreling towards me, her paws on my chest and tongue scrapping my face.

“Hi girl, down. Get down please,” I urged our oversized pup. I swear, there’s no way this dog was just a lab. She must be some kind of Great Dane and lab mix. Only a year old and she practically towers over us all. “Sorry, she just gets so excited when I get back from taking the girls to school.”

“No problem. Ma’am, we have something we need to share with you. It might be best if you sit down,” Detective Laney gestured towards the study.

I followed her direction and stepped into my least favorite room of the house. Full of Chicago Cubs memorabilia, candid family photos, and the framed very first invoice ever paid to Deadbolt, all displayed on his oversized marble desk. I had considered lighting fire to this entire room when I served the divorce papers but, even in my more dire state, I still knew that would be less than ideal for my girls. Instead, I’d just ignore it until I’m finally numb enough to redo the whole space. Or until I sell the house. Whatever happens first.

Not able to bring myself to sit in his chair — the one he sat in fourteen years ago getting Deadbolt off the ground, in our first NYC apartment — I parked myself in a less melancholy chair. Midnight was instantly by my side. Gigantic paw on my foot, heavy head on my lap.

The officers and detective all scattered around the room, standing.

Officer Blake exhaled, “Mrs. Ilić, I am so sorry to have to tell you this. But your husband, Sasha Ilić, was found dead at his office early this morning. His body was discovered by someone on the janitorial staff.”

Have you ever had one of those nightmares where you know something awful is chasing you? You know you need to run like hell. But when you try to start sprinting, your legs become fatally heavy, as if someone filled them with cement. You are trapped. No matter how hard you try to run, you can’t.

That is exactly how it felt in that moment.

“What? Sash is not my husband anymore. Wait, what?”

“I’m so sorry ma’am. This is incredibly difficult information to process,” Officer Blake continued. She said more words but I couldn’t make any of them out.

All I could see was his face that very first night, peering over the counter at me. His dark buzzed hair, strategically clearing the path for his sharp, almond shaped green eyes. Those remarkable eyes starred back at me in my mind.

“Ma’am?” Officer Singh reached out to touch my shoulder. “I’m so sorry for your loss. We are just beginning our investigation but it appears that his wounds were not self inflicted. We have reason to believe someone may have killed your husband.”

“He’s not my husband anymore,” was all I could muster.

“Mrs. Ilić…”

“You can call me Blanche. Wait, you think he was murdered?”

“Alright. Blanche, then. I know this is a lot to process. Are you able to share with us where you were last night?” Detective Laney asked.

“Wait what?”

“Where you were last night. Do you remember what you were doing last night?” she asked again.

“I was here. Home. I was home. I made dinner for Aleksandra and Milena. It was bath night and then I put them to bed.”

“What did you do after they went to bed?”

“I haven’t been sleeping well since the divorce, so I took some melatonin before trying to read some ridiculous book about dragons my best friend Jazz insisted I buy. I didn’t get very far before I fell asleep for the night.”

Detective Laney continued, “Is there any way to confirm that you were in, in your home, for the whole night?”

“No. Nobody else was here. Well wait, yes. The security system. The house is monitored 24/7.”

"So there would be camera footage,” Laney confirmed.

“Yes. That and more. Security was Sash’s whole life. Deadbolt was his whole life. This house has every feature it offers. After he sold Deadbolt two years ago and we moved out here from the city, he installed it all himself, making sure it was done impeccably.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Officer Singh said as he signaled to the others it was time to leave. “We will be in touch as the investigation unfolds. Here’s my card and here is Detective Laney’s, as well. Please contact us if you hear of or think of anything that might be helpful in this case. Again, we are so sorry for your loss.”

Moments later I heard the front door softly open. “The front door is open,” the house alerted me — anything but soft. Then, “the front door is closed.”

Soon their car was reversing away.

“How will I ever be able to tell the girls,” I whispered. Every other thought had vanished from my mind. So, I did was I always do when I can’t think. I pulled out my phone and called Jazz.