“His name was Curt. Trina said he was creepy but he had a lot of money.” Mavis made a snorting noise. “That was how Trina got you to open up to her. She’d tell you stuff about herself, bad stuff, like she was your girlfriend, and you’d reciprocate. Sneaky-smart, you know? She remembered everything, and she’d use it against you long after you forgot what you told her.”

I wondered what Trina had done to Mavis, but knew it was none of my business. “Did Alec Gorevale know Trina Greene?”

“No way. He was gone a couple of years before she showed up. Trina was hired by Zelda.”

And I’d run out of questions Mavis could answer. “Thanks for talking with me.”

“No problem. How’s your brother doing, by the way?”

“My brother? We don’t have a brother.” For a moment, I had a sense of déjà vu. This was how it had gone with Mr. Pete, when he’d tried to tell me about the cousin in Claudia’s apartment. “Did Claudia tell you we did?”

“Sure. He’s in trouble all the time, but he’s a sweet kid. What’s his name, starts with an R… Ridley.”

“Oh, our, ah, step-brother. Right. He’s fine.” I knew that Claudia liked Ridley, and he’d been drawn to her, but it had never occurred to me that they’d become that close. “Thanks again, Mavis. I appreciate it.”

“It’s nice to meet you. You’re not nearly as scary as Claudia said.”

“Scary?”

Mavis nodded. “She’s in awe of you.”

“No, I think she pretty much hates me.”

“She does hate you a bit, but only because she wants to be you.” Mavis picked up her tweezers. “Good luck.”

I closed the door quietly and turned to the stairs with a lump in my throat. Hearing Claudia’s twisted feelings about me from a stranger made my internal compass go haywire. I’d never been the scary one; that was Claudia with her tough look and wild life.

At the bottom of the servants’ stairs I peered down the corridor that led to the grand foyer. Jesse and I had passed an office on our way into the building, and I was sure I knew which door it was. The problem was that it was just off the main foyer. How long would my luck hold? I decided to test it and made for the door. Of course it was locked. The knob rattled under my hand but wouldn’t budge. I cursed under my breath and kicked it.

“Who are you?” asked a voice behind me.

“What?” I spun around. There was a skeletal woman in her late twenties with long blond hair and a bubblegum-pink velour tracksuit with “Juicy” sprawling across her chest. “Oh, hi. I didn’t hear you there,” I hedged.

“You visiting someone?”

“Claudia Moore.”