“No, it’s not,” I insisted. “His father told me enough details. The woman used different names, including Mirelle and Marianne. She was stabbed to death in their apartment in Berlin. Theo was young at the time—he was in college. His father whisked him out of the country and into rehab, and the police thought the woman died in a break-in over drugs and cash.”

“You call that enough details? I can see why you’re not a journalist.”

“And I can see why you pull this lone-wolf act. No one could stand working with you for more than five minutes. But for Caro’s sake, I’m going to try. You’re supposed to be a journalist. Dig into the story of this dead woman.”

Ben shook his head. “Caroline couldn’t believe the old man covered everything up for his son.”

“Why does no one ever focus on the woman who died?” I asked. “Everyone acts like she’s this nonentity, that her death doesn’t matter except for what it did to Theo.”

“Then you look into it.”

“I don’t even know where to start!”

“Do what you’re doing now. Ask questions. Shake some trees and see what falls out.” He shrugged. “People think journalism is about writing. It’s not. It’s about being persistent.”

I didn’t speak German or have the option of flying off to Berlin. I didn’t even have a passport. The idea that I was going to solve this cold case from my dungeon room in Queens seemed insane. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to keep researching the story Caroline wanted me to work on,” he said. “If you want to help, give me the memory card.”

“I’ll email you the spreadsheets,” I said grudgingly.

The waiter brought our bill, and Ben paid it. I didn’t object because I couldn’t pay for my Pellegrino with protein bars.

“You said before that Theo killed Caro,” I said. “But I don’t understand what he did, besides showing up at the house.”

“He was terrorizing her.”

“Caro ran down to your neighborhood,” I said, thinking out loud.

“All she had to do was give the memory card to my doorman,” Ben said.

“But she didn’t. She still had it.” Caro had gone into the park instead of Ben’s building. Why? What had drawn her there?

“Right.” Ben was stock still, as if frozen. “What are you saying?”

“Don’t you think that’s weird?” I asked. “I mean, she ran all the way south, over a mile, and then something keeps her from going a couple more yards to give you the card?”

“What are you trying to say?”

There had to be a reason Caro detoured into the park. “What if someone followed her?”

“Theo had been at the house,” Ben mused. “He could’ve waited for her.”