Mr. Pete pulled me into a tight hug when he saw me. “Miss Lily! So sad time. But so good see you.” The superintendent of my old building was a delicate, sparrow-boned Chinese man two inches shorter—and ten pounds lighter—than me. His face looked older than it had when I’d last seen him, more lined and more tired. He had to be seventy by now.

“It’s good to see you, too, Mr. Pete.” His habit of referring to everyone by their first name, with a Mr. or Miss attached, was one I’d always found endearing.

“So sorry about sister. So sad.” He didn’t seem to notice that two police detectives were lurking in the hall behind me, and I wondered if his eyesight was failing.

“Thank you. How have you been?”

“Good, good, can’t complain. Miss you in building. Such pretty girl! Like Miss Ava Gardner! You find husband yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“You move back here. Marry nice friend from Oh-cla-hoo-maa.” Jesse had spent a lot of time at my apartment, and he’d been a favorite of Mr. Pete’s. Without Jesse I might never have learned that seeing the movie Oklahoma! had made Mr. Pete want to leave Hong Kong for America. Mr. Pete still hadn’t made it south of Atlantic City.

“Excuse me,” said Renfrew. “Peter Wu, we wanted to ask you to come upstairs with us.”

Mr. Pete glanced over my shoulder. “Ah, you police. You here Saturday. Detective Norah.” Then he rattled off her badge number.

Renfrew was impressed. “Don’t think I know it that well myself.” She shook Mr. Pete’s hand.

“Other one not show badge.” Mr. Pete peered at Bruxton like a bouncer at one of the clubs in my old neighborhood would a man trying to talk his way in. Bruxton’s hard, thin lips twitched slightly, as if crushing a smile.

“We want you to come up and tell us about the girl who lived in 5B,” said Renfrew.

“Miss Claudia? Yes, of course,” said Mr. Pete. He collected his keys and the four of us trooped up the stairs together. I’d stuck the yellow vines of police tape back in place over the door of 5B before I’d left yesterday, but now all the tendrils were trailing to the ground.

“Evidence of a break-and-enter?” Bruxton said.

“I came here yesterday, just after my flight got in,” I admitted. I’d already told Renfrew this and she hadn’t reacted. “It’s my apartment. The lease is in my name and I pay the rent.”

“Really? You pay the rent?” Bruxton demanded.

“Miss Lily send check every month. From Spain. Never, ever late,” said Mr. Pete. “She best tenant ever.”

“Why are you paying for your sister to live in your apartment?”