There was a pause. “Um, I just gave up.”

“Claudia never paid you for the work you did on her teeth?” I felt my face flame in shame. “How much does she still owe you? Did she pay any of it?”

Herrold coughed. “I’m sorry. It’s all right. I’ve already written it off. I don’t expect you to pay.”

“But I want to.”

“No, it’s nothing, really. I couldn’t possibly. I see that a lot with the girls they send over from Idylhaven. Some of them have a lot of problems. Especially those meth addicts. They’re the worst. Nasty drug, meth. They’ve got teeth falling out of their heads. Such a shame. Your sister’s problems were minor by comparison. I couldn’t possibly expect you to pay now. I’m so sorry, but I have a patient waiting. Thank you for calling. Goodbye.” I stared at the cracked screen of my cell phone. He’d hung up on me.

“That was weird,” I said to Claudia’s one-eared bunny, who’d taken up residence on the nightstand. I should have been glad to let go of the obligation, but it grated on me. I had a fear of dentists, but Herrold seemed unusually strange. Was he hiding something? For a moment I imagined that he was the lothario my sister had fallen for, not Alexander Gorevale at all. Maybe Claudia was holed up with the very man who had fixed her teeth. I shook my head and realized I had watched too many movies. Somewhere along the way my brain had dissolved. Or could I blame Martin for that?

While my brain was churning out questions, my cell phone rang. This number was one I knew. “Hello, detective,” I answered.

“I hate caller ID,” said Bruxton. “I like phones like that old one at your apartment. Can I run a couple things by you? Who does your sister know in Chicago?”

“No one that I know of. Claudia never leaves New York, or she didn’t used to.”

“Your sister spent most of May, June, July and August in Nyack, New York. She was shacked up with Alexander Gorevale. He had a house up there. He croaked in September. My partner told me you’d already talked about him.”

“True. I can’t say he’ll be missed.”

“Come on, how can you not love a guy who OD’s on Viagra?” Bruxton said. “Anyhow, it occurred to us that your sister might have decided to stay in the area, given she spent months here. That’s where we are now. Place reminds me of a fucking Edward Hopper painting.”

That made me laugh out loud. “What does this have to do with Chicago?”