“Yeah, she’s gonna have to explain that one,” Jesse sighed, breaking my hopeful train of thought. He drummed lightly on the steering wheel of Ginger, his prized 1968 baby blue Camaro. He was such an Oklahoma boy at heart, keen to get behind the wheel of a car and take off for an adventure, even if that meant surveillance duty on the Lower East Side, or driving along Canal Street while I scanned the crowds for my sister’s face, as we had earlier in the evening. I knew that Mal Sabado lived on or near Canal, and I’d guessed that Claudia wouldn’t be far from her favorite dealer. But there had been no sight of her.

“Maybe this woman and Claudia exchanged identities,” I suggested. “My sister could be living in her apartment right now. Maybe she doesn’t even know this woman is dead.” I was angry with myself for not digging deeper at Claudia’s when I’d had the chance on Sunday afternoon. I’d had the opportunity to go through her mail. Instead, I’d fixated on a long-lost treasure, a discovery that meant nothing now that my sister was officially missing.

“Why would they swap names and apartments?” Jesse shot back. “Only reason you would was if someone was after you. Pretty far-fetched.”

What if it was like that Hitchcock movie, Strangers on a Train, two people who agree to kill for each other, creating two perfect crimes? Only instead of murder, my sister and this woman were… what exactly? It didn’t make any sense. My sister had been arrested for drug possession, shoplifting, vandalism, trespassing, and a litany of other offenses I probably didn’t know about. Who would want to swap lives with a convicted criminal? I watched for any sign of a familiar face on the street, but it was desolate. “We’re going to seem like crazy people,” I said. “The police are going to notice us. It’s already after eight. How long are they going to be in there?”

“Calm down, Tiger Lily. You’ll get your chance. Folks are just comin’ home from work. Cops might be there a spell.” I gave Jesse a sidelong look, which he chose to ignore. Sometimes he poured the Will Rogers charm on thick. “Look, we’ll grab some supper, then come back. They’re not gonna hang around here all night.” As usual, my friend was thinking with his stomach. But his suggestion gave me a sudden inspiration.

“You’re brilliant. Have you ever eaten at Jannat?”

“Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” said Jesse. “How come you move all the way to Spain and you’re still up on the new spots in New York?”

“It’s not new,” I admitted. “It’s been around a while. An old friend of Claudia’s owns it.”

“I thought her circle was all artists and writers and rodeo clowns. Restaurant owner seems too straight.”