my light so they couldn’t see me. Like I did this afternoon when you showed up.”
“And? Who was with Chad?”
“Not his usual friends. These men, they came out of an office, not off the streets like the bums he usually brings home. They were laughing, slapping him on the back, like they were encouraging him to get louder, and I thought, that’s not very responsible of you even if you do work in an office instead of digging sewers. There’s Mrs. Lacey, with a new baby, and Mr. Dorrit, he has cancer, you got to be more considerate. But then they went into Mrs. Vishneski’s place, and, I will say this, the soundproofing in this building is good enough, once he gets inside, you don’t really hear him carrying on.”
“When did the other men leave?” I asked.
“I couldn’t tell you that, Missy. I’d gone to bed, I was asleep, I didn’t hear them. But Mr. Dorrit, he was out walking his dog, he’s got that little dachshund. He said they took out Mona Vishneski’s garbage with them, put it in the dumpster out in the alley. Those other boys would never have done such a thoughtful thing.”
No, indeed. I thanked the woman and backed away from her down the hall. She was ready to keep talking all night; she believed minding your own business got people killed, and, by gum, she was going to keep her whole building safe by reporting every detail that she could.
When I was here last week, I should have followed my first impulse, to canvass the building. Damn it, why hadn’t I? It was inexcusably sloppy detective work. I’d assumed Chad came home alone. And even after the people at Cheviot labs found roofies in his beer can, I hadn’t tried to see who might have doctored the beer.
While I’d been talking to the woman, Petra had been texting me, Tim R here, don’t no wht u want him 2 do.
On my way, I texted back. I guessed she was nervous about being left in charge and didn’t want to give him instructions on her own.
Before I left, though, I knocked on Mr. Dorrit’s door. Maybe I was doing too little, too late, but he might be able to describe Chad’s companions. The dachshund barked frenziedly, hurling itself at the door.
After a moment, I heard a slow step on the other side, saw a ghastly eye magnified at the peephole, and finally the sound of locks being turned back.
“No solicitation in this building, young lady.”
I’ve never enjoyed the “young lady” greeting, and as I age I like it less and less, but I put on my best public face: confident, friendly. “No solicitation intended. I’m a detective investigating Chad Vishneski. I hear you saw the men who came home with him last week.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
I jerked my head down the hall toward his neighbor.
“Mrs. Murdstone,” he sighed. “Always minding everyone else’s business but her own.”
“What did they look like?”
“How should I know? I barely saw them. I was just trying to keep Wood-E here from going after them. He bites strangers.” He had the dachshund in his arms, but the dog was squirming, wanting to get at me.
I tried to look even friendlier. “How many were there?” I asked.
“Two, far as I could tell.”
“Were they white? Chinese?”
“White, I guess,” he said grudgingly after a moment.
“Tall? Short?”
“About average. Taller than you, but not by much.”
“About Chad’s age?”
“Maybe some older. More like your age, I reckon. What are you, forty?”
“Lucky guess.” In the dim light, anything was possible. “You know how they always have some trick in the detective stories: the guy limped, he had a scar on his face, he wore a ring with a Celtic cross in it. Anything stand out for you?”
“A Celtic cross? I don’t think . . . Oh, I get it. You mean, did one of them have anything odd that would make you know him if you saw him again?”
He was definitely going to the head of the class after this. I nodded, my warm, empathic smile beginning to make my cheeks ache.
“Not so I could say,” he said. “Real expensive clothes—I thought that at the time. You know, soft overcoat, not a parka like the rest of us put on. That all?”
He closed the door on Wood-E’s disappointed whine—my nose apparently had looked like a tasty snack. Dorrit was sliding the dead bolt home when he changed his mind and opened the door again. “One of them, he