The dolls’ eyes all seemed to swivel in his direction. They’d known all along. They were enjoying this moment.

“He left me. Is that what you need to hear?”

Was that another lie? Her pain came through loud and clear, but Ted couldn’t trust even that. The assault he had prepared was blown apart.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no idea. What happened?”

“None of your damned business. He left. Cleared out. He was living in some guy’s basement in Hollis.”

“Was this before or after the giant moved in?”

“Don’t call him that,” she said. “And he doesn’t live here.”

“What? He just stops by to shave every once in a while?”

“Whatever you think you know, you don’t know the half of it.”

She lied so easily. Everything she had ever said was suspect. It was time to take what sanity he had left and get out of there.

“Thank you,” he said. “You helped me make a tough decision. I’m done.”

The dolls all seemed to be glowering at him. How could he be so heartless, so cruel?

“You should leave,” Cheryl said.

Ted stood. The risk in staying longer was that he might reveal more of what he knew without learning any more than that Cheryl was prepared to lie—about everything.

Ted cursed himself as he rode down in the elevator—Cheryl’s cash was still in his pocket. Somehow, he had missed his moment to dash it down in front of her and storm out. He wasn’t going back.

He was glad to be done with the case, and yet he had unanswered questions. He was convinced Cheryl knew—or suspected—much more than she had admitted. Her demeanor had first changed at the restaurant when he told her that Richie’s case was tied to the LBC tower. She had not known it before. And as soon as she did, she warned Ted off that path of investigation. Now she was warning him off trying to find Richie’s killer. What had changed?

There was a fire hydrant in front of Cheryl’s building. A flat-grey Ford Taurus with black steel wheels was squatting in the space, engine running. Two large men sat in the front seat. They could not have better advertised themselves as cops if they’d had a cruiser with siren and flashing lights. Duran and his partner. What was the man’s name? Casava-something?

“C’mere, Molloy,” the partner called. “How’s the widow? Still in mourning? You been consoling?”

The interview had left Ted depressed—confused and angry. He didn’t like the feeling.

“My friends call me Ted. You can call me Mr. Molloy, Chuck.”

The cop swung open the car door and jumped up onto the sidewalk, rolling his shoulders, prepared to teach Ted some manners. “Detective Kasabian, Molloy.”