Spencer heard voices and laughter coming from the living room.

“Ah, shit. That’s Rick and Denise, Chris’s neighbors from upstairs. They must’ve smelled Chris’s steaks and come down. They do that quite a lot.”

“I don’t give a shit what they do. You know what’s happening tomorrow. I don’t wanna meet them. Tell Chris to get rid of them.”

“Look, Yo-Yo, I hear you, but listen. We can’t suddenly start acting weird, can we? This time tomorrow, the cops are going to be looking for witnesses. Chris has never sent his neighbors away. If he starts now, they’re most likely going to guess something isn’t right.”

The Yo-Yo stared at him with eyes colder than the grave.

“Dom would want us to play this clever,” continued Spencer. “Tell you what. I’ll get them out on the fire escape with me and Abby. I’ll keep them out there.”

The Yo-Yo considered it for a moment. He didn’t want them to see his face. Besides which, he was goddamn hungry and the thought of no one ear hustling him was attractive.

“How about this, Spencer. They eat out there, away from me. But when I’m finished with my chow, they’re fucking gone, ’cause if they ain’t, I’m gonna go to work on someone.”

“Leave it to me, I said.”

Denise turned to Abby and asked if she’d enjoyed her little vacation. Denise, like her husband, was only a few years from retirement and the first time Spencer had met her he’d thought this woman had the air of a straitlaced Sunday school teacher. Now he wondered where he’d gotten that from. She was warm, and she was up for helping a neighbor out without even needing to know why. Spencer suspected he’d been wrong about a lot of people.

He and Abby let the others do most of the talking while forcing Chris’s beautiful cuisine down their dry throats. They sat at the end of the fire escape nearest the stairs. Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer could just see the Yo-Yo’s feet on the coffee table. He reckoned the Yo-Yo would be about a quarter of the way through his food. He glanced around at Abby, eyes asking if she was ready. She nodded.

They were just putting their plates quietly on the floor when Spencer saw Abby’s eyeline change to the doorway behind him. He knew the Yo-Yo was there. He carried on putting his plate down but then held his hand out to Rick, who was next to the refrigerator.

“Hey, throw me a beer, will you?”

Rick obliged, and by the time the cold Coors landed in Spencer’s palm, the Yo-Yo had gone back to his food.