“I’m just going out. I’m sorry. Don’t worry about the money. It’s all settled.” He was retreating, trying to close the door.

I stepped inside and smiled at him, pretending I hadn’t noticed his hands were shaking. “It’s really important, and it will just take a minute. So, how do you know my sister?”

“She was my patient.”

“And you… filled her cavities?” I prompted.

“Yes.” The dog whined at his feet.

“Did you get to know her at all?”

“Just a little. She was a nice girl,” he said. In the back of my mind, a bell went off. Was?

“Trina Greene has been living in my sister’s apartment for the past few months. How do you know Trina?”

“Trina?” There was something in the way he said it, a wistfulness that underscored the name, that connected the dots in my brain. The man is front of me was, with the exception of his teeth, exactly how I’d envision a troll, which must have made him a perfect mark for Trina’s charms. “Trina’s still in New York?” he asked hopefully.

“Trina’s been impersonating my sister since October. What I want to know is, where’s my sister?”

“Why… don’t you… ask Trina?” There were little droplets of perspiration on Herrold’s temple.

“I’m asking you.”

“Why would I… why would I do anything to her?” The little white dog cocked her head from side to side and put her two front paws on his foot.

“I didn’t say you did.” I was more anxious by the second. “Is that Brenda Collins’s dog, by any chance?”

“Br—Brenda?” His lips quivered.

“The woman who died in the fire.”

“What do you… want?”

“I want to know what happened. What did you do?”

“Nothing… I… nothing. Go away!” He turned and lumbered towards the back of the house. He stopped at the doorway, gave a little shudder, and went inside. The little dog yelped and went in after him. I ran down the hallway, unwilling to let him dodge me now, and charged through the doorway, stopping dead in the center of the room. Herrold was standing behind a desk, holding a gun and pointing it at me.

“What the hell are you doing?” I was more angry than scared. “Is that a real gun?”

Herrold ignored my question. “You said Trina’s at your sister’s apartment?” Sweat was trickling down his face now and the gun was shaking in his hand.

“Yes.”

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.” He spun an old Rolodex on his desk with his left hand. I took a step back and he cocked the gun. “I told you not to move!”