Renfrew reached into her briefcase and pulled something small out. “Take a look,” she said, leaning forward and handing it to me. There were four clear plastic bags, each with a different credit card inside, made out to Claudia Moore. I turned each one over. The signature was a rough approximation of my sister’s.

“These aren’t Claudia’s.” I handed them back to Renfrew.

“The oldest credit card was issued end of October. Your sister’s prints aren’t on them, but the dead woman’s are. It looks like that woman had, let’s say, borrowed her identity. We also found this in her wallet.” Renfrew handed me another small baggie. Claudia’s driver’s license was inside. It was the real thing, not a fake. I stared at it wordlessly before handing it back. Nothing made sense anymore.

“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” said Bruxton. “The ring would be an easy thing for the person who found the body to grab up, no matter how big the rock. But why not take the cash and credit cards? And if they took the laptop, how did they smuggle it out with no one noticing?” The detectives exchanged a look. I wanted to ask about the mysterious Kaylee Quan, but Renfrew started to speak before I formed a question.

“That’s about it for information from the neighbors,” she said. “This girl kept quiet. Nobody heard anything from the apartment, but the downstairs neighbor heard footsteps sometimes so she knew someone was up there. She assumed Claudia had come home, and was glad she was being so quiet.”

“It’s New York. Nobody knows their neighbors, even in a small building,” said Bruxton. “No one’s close with your sister, and the dead woman only talked to the neighbor down the hall.” He leaned forward. “If you think about it, it makes sense. Sarah Lyons moved into the building in November, after this other woman got there. Lyons never met the real Claudia, so the fake Claudia wasn’t worried about getting caught out with her.”

“Here’s what doesn’t make sense. I met Sarah Lyons on Sunday afternoon, and she knew exactly who I was. She knew I lived in Spain. Did the impostor fill her in on that?”

Renfrew and Bruxton looked at each other again. They seemed to communicate through quick glances and ESP. “We think it’s a sure thing that the dead woman knew your sister,” said Renfrew. “She probably wanted to reduce the chances she’d slip up, so she stuck to one story, unless she was dealing with someone who knows your sister.”

“Or maybe Sarah Lyons is psychic, or just a total kook,” said Bruxton. “You can ask her yourself if you want to come down to the station with us.”

“She’s at the station?” I was astonished.