“I travel a lot for work, so I hardly ever saw them,” I said. “When I moved into the building, it was filled with older people on fixed incomes who’d been there forever. The woman who used to live in 5C, Mrs. Felesky, was really feisty and a lot of fun. Most of the older people in the building are like that, just not the Decarnos.” I sat back on the sofa, annoyed that the Decarnos were clinging to their rent-controlled apartment like barnacles on the hull of a boat.

“Best thing they had to say was that your sister had been quiet the past few months.” Bruxton said, glancing around the room.

“Can I get you something, detective?” asked Jesse.

“No, I’m fine,” said Bruxton.

“He’s checking for an ashtray,” said Renfrew. “Just ignore him.”

“I said I’m fine,” Bruxton muttered, his face reddening again. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he’d been interrogating me. Now, he was squirming and I was enjoying the show. He pulled a foil packet out of his wool coat and popped a couple of pieces of nicotine gum in his mouth.

“Quitting’s so hard,” Jesse said sympathetically. “I have a friend who stopped and started a dozen times before she managed to do it.” I gave him a look that said You’re talking about me, aren’t you?

“He’s not actually trying to quit,” said Renfrew. “The gum just keeps his head from exploding before he gets his next smoke.”

“Can we talk about the case?” said Bruxton. “We’re putting together a timeline. You told us saw your sister over Labor Day weekend at the beginning of September. The woman down the hall–Wendy Malahoff, do you know her?” I nodded and Bruxton continued, “She remembered your sister screaming and breaking things just before Labor Day. She said it sounded like your sister was throwing things and kicking the walls. Malahoff spoke to your sister briefly.”

“What did she say?”

“Claudia told her to go fuck herself and slammed the door in her face,” said Bruxton. “She said it was definitely Claudia Moore.”

“That sounds like my sister,” I agreed.

“There’s two solid weeks of this. Yelling, cursing, etcetera. Mrs. Decarno said a man came by on September tenth—she’s sure about the date, since she was heading out to her hematologist’s—and he tried to reason with Claudia. Your sister screamed that he’d abandoned her, then yelled ‘I hate you,’ and slammed the door in his face.”

“Did Mrs. Decarno describe the man?”

Bruxton glanced at his notebook. “She said tall and distinguished. When pressed, she added old enough to be that minx’s father. He was white, had an English accent, and he wore a dark suit. That was it.”