“Miss Claudia. She cousin. She good influence on sister. No more loud music. No more strange friends. Good influence.”

The detectives stared at me. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. Mr. Pete, what was the name of this cousin?”

“Claudia. Just like sister!” he answered triumphantly.

I sat down on my sister’s bed and rubbed my temples. Mr. Pete sounded crazy, or confused, but maybe he was right. The girl in the morgue looked a little like Claudia, with her dark hair, upturned nose and rosebud mouth. “Mr. Pete, who told you that this woman was our cousin?”

“She tell me.”

“She introduced herself to you?” I asked.

“October, she ask me fix kitchen sink. She say Miss Claudia visit sister Miss Lily in Spain. She cousin, she visit, stay in apartment.”

“How long did she stay in the apartment, Mr. Pete?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Two week, she say,” he answered. “Cousin engaged.”

“She told you she was getting married?” I asked.

“No, but I see ring,” Mr. Pete answered, pointing to his own empty ring finger. “Big rock.” He smiled. “Distant vision not so good, but close vision still sharp.”

“Can you describe this… cousin?” I asked, floundering for a better word.

“Height, like you, but big girl. Black hair. Round face like moon. Big, ah...” Mr. Pete tapped on his chest. “You know.”

Something wasn’t adding up. “This other woman in the apartment…” My voice faltered. “Why didn’t you think of her when the police said someone died in the apartment?”

“Cousin here October.” Mr. Pete spoke with emphasis. “November, I have surgery. Shoulder, see?” He shrugged his right arm lightly. “December, cousin gone. Sister back.”

“You saw Claudia? Did you speak with her?” I asked.

“No talk, but I see at distance.” Mr. Pete nodded his head. “Skinny-minnie, black clothes. Claudia, sister. Not big cousin.”

Bruxton and Renfrew took over, trying to shake him off his claim.

“Mr. Wu, did you see Claudia Moore on Saturday?”

“No.”

“You didn’t look at her body?” said Bruxton. “Are you sure about that?”

Mr. Pete’s expression was incredulous. “No want look. What for? So sad this happen.”

“Can you tell us what you did see on Saturday?” Renfrew asked.

“Of course. Police come to building. Tell me girl come visit, she find friend dead. In bathtub.” Mr. Pete paused, shook his head and blew his nose on a crisp white handkerchief he pulled out of his pocket. “I see girl, she crying. She tell police Miss Claudia dead. I tell police, you call sister, Miss Lily, she in Spain. I have phone number.”

“Right, that’s what you told me,” said Bruxton. “Did you know the woman who found the body?”

“December, I see her. Nice girl. Polite. She from Hong Kong. I tell from accent.”