It bothered me that the police still didn’t know who the woman was. She didn’t fit the description of any missing person in their databases, and so far the facial recognition software had failed to match her photo. “There has to be something in that apartment. Whoever that woman was, she must have had her own ID when she got there.” I looked at my watch; it was just after eleven. “Do you want to come with me? Renfrew made me promise not to go over on my own at night.”

“Woohoo. I’d love to escort you, ma’am.” Jesse turned to the street. “Taxi!” A yellow cab stopped, as if on cue.

“I thought you wanted exercise. It’s not that cold,” I complained as we got in.

“Sure, for somebody who used to live in Buffalo. It’s freezin’ out. I’ll get to the gym tomorrow.” Jesse pulled the door shut behind him. He gave the cabbie my old address and explained the best way to get there; the Lower East Side was more awkward than most Manhattan neighborhoods for cars to navigate. Jesse chatted with the cabbie for most of the ride. I’d never met anyone like my friend. He could get the notoriously nasty cashiers at Duane Reade to smile at him. By the time we arrived at the building, we’d heard all about the man’s family in Bangalore. “Pleasure meetin’ you,” said Jesse, and they shook hands.

“You’re unbelievable,” I told Jesse as we got out of the cab. “I think he was going to ask you to his family reunion.”

“I never yet met a man I didn’t like.” Jesse grinned. “Well, ’cept one.”

We turned to the building and I stopped in my tracks. There was a huge man looming in the tiny foyer between the outer and inner doors of the building. He was taller than Jesse, at least six foot four, with hulking shoulders and a stocky build. He was dressed all in black, with a hood over his head and a cigarette in his mouth. He looked like the same man I’d seen the night before, on the stoop. Now he was shifting from foot to foot, staring at us.

“You stand back, Tiger Lily.” Jesse put his right hand in his jacket pocket and I wondered if it was a ruse or if he had something to use as a weapon. Before I could ask, the lurker opened the outer door and stepped out.

“Hi,” he said.

Did he know me? I didn’t recognize him at all. Most of my sister’s friends were emaciated addicts; this guy looked like a linebacker. “Hi,” I answered.

“How you doin’?” asked Jesse.

“Okay.” The man’s voice was a low rumble. “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“Pretty much,” said Jesse.