Three-Day Town

go to his studio to walk his dogs and then it was snowing too hard to get back, but I’m sure he’ll bring it with him when he comes. What time is it? He swore he’d be here by eleven so we could have brunch with the Tiempo people, although they may cancel because of the snow. He’ll be so pissed if they do because he was hoping they’d run an in-depth interview about his new paintings and—”

Elliott held up a hand to stop her chatter and herded her toward the front door. “It’s well past eleven and he’s probably sitting on your swing at this very minute, wondering where you are.”

“Oh. Right.”

I followed them to the door and reminded Elliott that he’d left his jacket on a chair in the dining room.

“I’ll be right back if Marclay has my coat,” he said.

I left the door on the latch and fetched a wet cloth from the kitchen to begin wiping surfaces that had been dusted for fingerprints, including the cat that Luna had forgotten to take. Dwight came down the hall from the second bathroom with a bath mat in his hand. “I’m going to put this over that bloodstain till we can get it cleaned,” he said.

The chenille mat had interlocking circles of blue and green and didn’t exactly go with anything in the room, but yes, I was glad to have the blood covered.

CHAPTER

9

The citizen of Gotham and his wife dodge the servant question at the start by taking an apartment instead of a whole house…. A maid looks after the sweeping and cleaning, messenger boys and the telephone do the errands, and the janitor fights off agents, gas men, and beggars. One does not have to think about light or fuel or ice or ashes.

—

The New New York

, 1909

SIGRID HARALD— SUNDAY MORNING (CONTINUED)

Once the others had gotten past the obvious raunchy remarks and readjusted their theories in light of the ME’s report, Sigrid said, “Not a word of this to anyone unless it appears to be common knowledge. Until we learn more about the whole situation, Lundigren is a ‘he.’ Understood?”

Her words were meant for the whole team, but it was Urbanska who flushed bright red, aware that her impulsive tongue had spoken out of turn more than once.

“Understood, ma’am.”

The street in front of the apartment building had not been plowed when they arrived, but employees from the buildings along here seemed to be keeping the sidewalk shoveled and blown fairly clean as snow continued to fall. The pure white drifts turned New York’s gritty streets into a New Year’s greeting card, and even Sigrid, who seldom paid much attention to nature, found herself caught up in the beauty of bare tree limbs etched in white against the dark brick or stone of the buildings.

Hentz nosed the car in as close to the curb as possible. Last night’s rain meant that ice had formed beneath the snow, but they managed to get to the sidewalk without falling, although Sigrid and Elaine Albee both grasped the nearest arms when their booted feet almost slipped out from under them. The front door was locked, and Sigrid was surprised by the elevator man, who opened the door for them in his neat brown uniform.

“Weren’t you on duty last night?”

There were shadows under Sidney Jackson’s almond-shaped eyes and his face seemed pale and tired beneath its faint golden skin. “The day man walked off the job this morning so I got called back in. I couldn’t believe it when Mrs. Wall told me Phil got killed last night.”

The elevator was small, but the six of them managed to squeeze in.

“Vlad—he’s a porter and he got called in, too. He says Denise flipped out and they took her to Bellevue. She gonna be okay? How’d Phil die anyhow? Somebody cut him?”

“Why do you say that?” Hentz asked.

“I’m back and forth to the sixth floor all night and I didn’t hear anybody say anything about a gunshot. Jani took over for me around eleven so I could get home before the snow got too deep, and he told Vlad the same thing. So what did happen?”

Ignoring his question, Sigrid asked, “Did you see Lundigren last night around ten?”

“No, but he would’ve used the back elevator or the back stairs.”

“How well did you know him?”

“Good as anybody, I guess. Friendly enough, but he doesn’t hang out with us. He’s a hard worker an’ he keeps at it. Building this old, something’s always breaking down and the boiler needs watching like a baby—that’s why they called Vlad in. He knows boilers. But Phil, he’s right on top of things. He’ll get on you bad if he thinks you’re slacking off or not being a good representative for the building.” He gestured over his shoulder to the open elevator car. “He makes us keep the cage polished and we can’t let stuff pile up in the corners because Denise, she vacuums it out every day.”

The detectives noted that nothing in Sidney Jackson’s words gave any indication that he knew the victim’s true sex.

“Mrs. Lundigren is on the payroll?” asked Lowry.

He shrugged. “She helps Phil out with stuff like that. She’s okay as long as you don’t talk to her. She wants you to act like you don’t know she’s there. She cleans for Mr. Lacour and Mrs. Wall, and that reminds me: Mrs. Wall said for me tell her when you get here.”

“Who’s she?” asked Hentz.

“Chair of the co-op board.” A loud buzz interrupted him. “Gotta go.”