“I saw her yesterday. I just assumed you knew, but it hit me this morning that she might not have mentioned it. She’s kind of evil.” I sipped my coffee. I’d forgotten how well coffee and cigarettes went together.

“Did that thought hit you the same time you got that bruise?”

“Very funny. Did you talk to her yet?”

“No, but we will.” Bruxton took a long drag. “You know, there are a couple ways we can play this.”

“What do you mean?”

Bruxton exhaled plumes of smoke and gave me a dark look. “I spend all day listening to perps and witnesses bullshitting me. Then I’ve got to deal with the DA’s office, which is worse again with its stupid fucking politics. Now I’ve got you feeding me this line of crap. If you’re going to lie to my face, put some thought into it first, okay?”

“Sorry,” I said in a small voice.

“Look, I get it. You want to protect your little sister. You’ve been doing that your whole life. There are things you won’t tell me because you never tell anyone the full story. You’d rather keep it locked up. But don’t tell me a bald-faced lie and think I’ll be fine with that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he responded. We stood silently looking at each other.

“Renfrew said you’d found something of Claudia’s?”

Bruxton nodded. “Let’s go upstairs.” He took a last drag on his cigarette. We tossed the butts on the sidewalk and walked back to the door. “You want to tell me how you really got that bruise?”

“No,” I said.

He held the door for me and we went upstairs without another word.

❖

Renfrew had been understating matters when she’d said they had something of Claudia’s. Arrayed on a table in the interrogation room was a series of objects in clear plastic bags. There was the pink iPod, a pair of diamond stud earrings, silver trinkets with an identifiable Tiffany & Co hallmark, and what I took for a two-carat princess-cut diamond ring. There was also a prescription for something called “lorazepam,” with Claudia’s name on the label. “I don’t think any of this belongs to Claudia, except the pills,” I said, picking up the baggie that contained them. The vial was dated last June. The prescribing physician was Alexander Gorevale. For a moment I felt like hunting him down and strangling him, and then I remembered he was already dead. No wonder Claudia had told her friend Rachel that she didn’t want me to find out about him.

“But these things were all sitting in her apartment just the other day, right?” asked Renfrew.

I nodded. “Where did you find them?”