On the other side of the threshold stood a man about a head shorter and a tad wider than Tepper. He wore a rumpled blue suit with the coat and pants slightly different hues. His white dress shirt had a curled collar where a loosely knotted red tie overlapped its edge. The man’s ruddy cheeks were covered with gray stubble that pegged him as late fifties or early sixties.

“Detective Mancini?”

“Ah, Tepper. I assume you’re securing the victim’s room.” He pushed forward, forcing the uniformed officer to retreat.

“His room?”

“Yes. In case our victim was targeted for more than a random burglary or carjacking.”

“But I was just about to get statements from two witnesses.”

Mancini raised an eyebrow. “Together?”

Tepper didn’t answer. He knew the statements should have been taken separately.

“Well, did you get a description of the assailants?”

“Two men, in shadows, who escaped in a large, dark SUV.”

“Have you called it in?”

“Yes, and asked for a check of area hospitals. One of the men might have been wounded.”

“And you got this from Miss Crestwater?”

“No, sir. From her roomer. Jesse Cooper.” Tepper motioned his head toward the living room and whispered, “Miss Crestwater was a bit shaken up.”

“Really? There may be many things that happened here, but I assure you Ethel Fiona Crestwater being shaken up isn’t one of them.” Mancini stepped to one side, clearing the way to the front door. “Tell Garcia to post outside the victim’s room while you coordinate the exterior activities.”

“I don’t know which room is the victim’s.”

“Then come with me, and we’ll ask.”

Mancini pivoted and headed for the living room with Tepper in tow.

When Ethel saw Mancini, she rose from her chair and crossed to meet him.

“Frank, I was hoping they would send you. I didn’t think it would be so fast. I see you dressed in the dark.”

“Actually, I heard the shot.” Mancini looked at Jesse Cooper as he stood from the sofa. He noted the T-shirt and boxers and the mussed brown hair in need of a cut. The young man obviously hadn’t had the chance to dress. “I live two blocks away,” Mancini said. “I can sleep through a lot of noises, but my brain recognizes a gunshot, whether I’m conscious or not.” He offered Jesse his hand. “Detective Frank Mancini, Arlington Police Department.”

Jesse found the man’s grip to be firm without trying to be dominant. “Jesse Cooper. I have a room here.”

“Right. Now here’s how this is going to work. I’m posting a man outside the victim’s room until forensics can have a look. Which one is it?”

“The one at the top of the back staircase,” Ethel said.

“And where is your room, Mr. Cooper?”

Jesse pointed up. “Right above us at the opposite end of the hall from Jonathan Finch.”

“Our victim?”