My ears perked up, remembering what Melissa Ardito had said about my sister. It was the first healthy thing I’d ever heard of Claudia taking an interest in. “Did this woman go to a class in the neighborhood?” I asked.

“No, she said the ones nearby were filthy,” Sarah answered. “She found a studio she liked in Union Square. I’m afraid I don’t remember the name.”

I remembered the phone records. Renfrew had said there were calls to a gym around Union Square. That must have been the yoga studio. Had my sister ever been there, or just this woman who used her name?

“That’s all right,” said Renfrew. “You know, judging from all of the designer goods in the apartment, it sounds like this girl had some expensive tastes.”

“Yes, I think she did,” Sarah agreed. “She always seemed to come home with a shopping bag.”

“So far you’ve told us that your neighbor didn’t have a boyfriend, didn’t go out a lot, drank a little but didn’t do drugs, and she did yoga,” said Renfrew. “What were her other habits like?”

“She just seemed like a nice girl. I remember noticing that she had so many books in her apartment, yet she wasn’t much of a reader. I thought it was just an example of the Anthony Burgess axiom, that the purchase of a book is a substitute for the reading of it.”

I knew the Burgess line and was impressed that Sarah did, too. I hadn’t liked her when she’d interrupted me at Claudia’s apartment, but given the frame of mind I was in that day, I’d been in no position to form an opinion. Sarah seemed like someone who could walk into any room and strike up a conversation and sound civilized. What would she make of the real Claudia? I had a pretty good idea what my sister would think of her.

“On Sunday you told us you saw Claudia on New Year’s Eve,” said Renfrew.

“Yes, I spoke with her that afternoon, just before I went out to run some errands. She had a cold and I asked if I could get her anything. She said no. She said she was just looking forward to having a quiet night at home.”

“There was something you said, Ms. Lyons. You told us that the girl had died just like her mother had.”

Sarah dabbed her eyes again and nodded. “She had told me about her mother before the holidays. She said her father had died on Christmas Eve, and her mother had died on New Year’s Eve, and she hated the holidays.” Sarah looked at me. “I’m sorry, Lily. It must be hard to hear that someone who wasn’t your sister said those things.”