like. She did something she rarely did, and sliced that page out with the razor blade she kept with her art supplies. She crumpled the page into a tight ball and threw it out.
She got off the bed and went to the computer, searching for any new information on the murder, but could find nothing. She even went to Reddit and tried to find out something there, but she could barely comprehend the Web site, let alone figure out how to navigate it.
She checked her e-mails. No response from Corbin, even after telling him that the police had searched his apartment.
At seven o’clock, after changing into a summery dress and a cardigan, Kate walked out of her apartment, down the stairs to the lobby, then up the stairs to the other side of the building. She wondered if maybe Carol Valentine or her husband would know something about the Audrey Marshall investigation. She assumed it would be part of the evening’s conversation.
As she rounded the corner onto the Valentines’ hallway—decorated on this side in a wallpaper of black and silver—Alan Cherney was coming out of his apartment, locking the door behind him. He turned, and Kate noticed he was holding a bottle of wine. She wondered briefly where he was going before realizing that he was probably invited to the Valentines’ apartment as well.
“I’m crashing your welcome party,” he said as she approached him.
“I didn’t bring anything,” Kate said, her eyes on the wine bottle. “I didn’t even think of it.”
“Here.” Alan held the bottle out toward Kate. “I’ve already blown my first impression on them, months ago. You bring it.”
“No, no,” Kate said.
“They only invited me because I ran into Carol in the lobby this afternoon, and I told her that I’d gotten to know you a little.”
“Is it going to be a big party? I thought it was just me having one or two drinks.”
“No, it’ll just be you, and maybe Mrs. Anderby who lives downstairs. And now me. I think it’s kind of a Bury Street tradition. All new tenants get invited to the Valentines’. I’m only bringing wine so I don’t come empty-handed, but they’ll serve martinis, and you’ll be expected to drink one.”
“Really?”
“They did when Quinn and I were invited over.”
“We should go in, don’t you think?”
“We should.”
Alan knocked and the door was opened by Mr. Valentine. He was a short man with beautiful white hair. Whether he’d always been short, or it was a function of his extreme old age, was hard to tell. He wore suit pants and a pale blue cashmere V-neck, and he beckoned them in with a long, thin silver spoon. “Olive or a twist?” he asked.
Kate, confused, thinking he’d said “Oliver Twist,” turned toward Alan.
“I’ll have a twist, please,” he said to Mr. Valentine, then turned to Kate, and asked, “Do you want an olive or a twist of lemon in your martini?”
“Oh, an olive, please,” Kate said, as Mr. Valentine turned and departed, just as Carol appeared. She was still wearing the wraparound white sweater she’d been wearing that morning, but her gray hair, which Kate had only ever seen up, was down, swept back off her forehead, and stiffly held in place by some sort of hair product.
“Come in, you two. Kate, what a lovely dress. Please excuse Bill. He doesn’t talk until he’s had his first martini of the night, and then you can never shut him up.”
They followed Carol into the elegant living room, the furniture mostly white and the walls papered in pale gold. Alan, as they followed, whispered to Kate: “She said the exact same words last time I was here.” As he whispered, their bodies bumped together, and Kate found herself glad that he had come as well.
In the living room, Bill Valentine was at a sidebar stirring a pitcher of martinis with the long spoon he’d held when he greeted them. Weaving between his legs was Sanders the cat, who stopped and stared at the new guests.
“Oh, Sanders,” Kate said.
“Is he in here?” Carol said, spotting him. “I’m sure he’s already tried to get into your apartment. You don’t have to let him, you know, if you don’t want to. He thinks the entire building is his house, and everyone’s his staff.”
“I haven’t met the woman who owns him,” Kate said.
Alan and Carol both said “Florence Halperin” at the same time.
“No one sees her,” Carol continued. “As far as I know, she doesn’t leave her apartment. Her groceries are delivered.”