Die For You

asked.”

“He asked you not to mention it, if asked. Gave you a hundred-dollar tip? That wasn’t a clue that something unsavory was transpiring?”

Shane shrugged.

“Did you know any of the people you let in?”

“Of course not.”

“Can you describe them? Would you recognize them again if you saw them?”

“Don’t you have a video? You know, from those surveillance cameras in the lobby?” He gave Grady a nasty, yellow smile. Grady hadn’t quite expected to fool him with his bit about the cameras; just introduce a shadow of doubt.

“That’s it,” said Jez. She’d been standing in the corner, silent, brooding. In spite of the ice, her eye was started to swell badly. She moved quickly to the table. Grady could see that she was pissed, wanted reason to put her hands on Charlie Shane. He thought he was going to have to intervene. But she backed away, moved toward the door. “Too much conversation. Let’s get the paperwork started.”

“Wait,” said Shane, lifting a hand. Jez paused at the door but didn’t turn around.

“Start with how you knew Camilla Novak,” said Jez.

Grady placed the only picture they had of Camilla, the one he’d found on the Internet, in front of him. Shane shook his head.

“We found her dead body in her apartment today,” Grady said. “She had a stamp on her hand from the Topaz Room, where we found you just a few hours ago. You were the doorman in the building of the man who more than probably killed her boyfriend and stole his identity. You knew her.”

More silence. Jez turned the knob and opened the door.

“I knew her,” he said quickly. “I knew her.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Jez closed the door and turned around.

“More than a few weeks ago-maybe closer to two months-I was covering Teaford’s shift and I heard yelling out on the street. It was after midnight. A woman, screaming.”

He released a deep breath, rubbed at his temples.

“I left my post and went out to the street and saw Miss Novak yelling at Mr. Raine.”

“What was she saying?”

“She was saying, ‘You love her, you love her. You weren’t supposed to love her.’”

“And what was Raine doing?”

“He was trying to calm her down, speaking in low tones. She screamed, ‘I betrayed him for you. I thought we were going to be together. I have blood on my hands for nothing.’ Something like that.” He waved a hand. “I don’t remember her exact words.”

His leg was still pumping and he was sweating as if he’d just spent an hour working out hard in the gym.

“Mr. Raine said, ‘Be patient. It’s almost through.’ He tried to walk away but she followed, yelling, ‘You liar, you liar. I’m going to burn it down. All of it.’ She grabbed hold of his arm. But he slapped her hard and she went reeling back. He saw me standing there then. ‘Call the police if she follows me,’ he told me. I was stunned. ‘Charlie, I know I can count on your discretion.’ He left her weeping on the street.”

“What did you do at that point?” asked Jez.

“I couldn’t just leave her there. After he went upstairs, I brought her into the lobby, gave her some ice for her mouth, asked if I could call her a taxi.”

“Where’d you get the ice?” asked Jez with a frown.

“What?” asked Shane. It must have seemed like a stupid question, apropos of nothing. But Grady knew why Jez had asked it. Lies lived in the little things, the details people threw in to make their stories sound truer.

“From a cooler I bring my meals in. I use an ice pack to keep things cold.”

She nodded, satisfied. Shane stared at the wall in front of him. “She seemed very fragile to me, unwell. I felt sorry for her. We talked awhile. I asked her what it was all about, the argument. Who had she betrayed? She said that she’d betrayed herself-over and over until she didn’t even remember who she was or what she wanted anymore. I told her that she wasn’t so different from anyone. We all betray ourselves one way or another. She said, ‘Not like this. Someone loved me, really loved me. And I betrayed him for a life I thought was in my reach.’ She wouldn’t tell me more.”

He paused a second. “She was beautiful, you know. But she seemed like a bird or a butterfly. You couldn’t catch her or touch her. Just look.”

“But you touched her, didn’t you?” Jez had returned to her corner; she was partially hidden in shadow. “A lot of people touched her. She was a call girl, right?”

He nodded reluctantly. “We made an arrangement.”

“You kept an eye on Raine, told her anything you saw suspicious or out of the ordinary, his comings and goings? And she gave herself to you in exchange?”

He gave a weak shrug. “Herself, once. Then passes to the Topaz Room. Other girls there.”

“But why would she want to know that? What was she looking for in particular?”

“She wanted to know things like how often the Raines went out, did they look happy, did he bring her flowers. She wanted to know if he stayed out late, brought any other women back to the apartment when Mrs. Raine was out of town. Things like that-jealous girlfriend things.”

“And what about Raine? Did he mention the incident again?”

Shane nodded. “On the way out to work the next morning, he gave me a hundred dollars, asked that I keep what happened the night before to myself. I agreed, of course. He said he’d continue to appreciate my discretion. And he did-with money, once tickets to a play once a nice bottle of scotch.”

“So you played them both.”

He bristled. “I obliged them both. Gave them both what they wanted.”

“Like any good doorman.”

“That’s right, sir.” But his chin dropped to his chest, shoulders lost their square.

“And this woman?” Grady tapped the photo of S.

Shane nodded. “She was one of the women I let into the apartment. There were four of them. Two women, two men. I let them in and out through the service door behind the building. They came with big empty sacks. When they left, they were all full. I didn’t ask any questions or say a word to any of them. Of course, I had no idea people had been murdered, that crimes had been committed. Until you came that night, I didn’t understand what I had done. I was afraid then. I ran.”

“Was he one of them?” Grady asked, pointing to the photograph of Ivan Ragan.

Shane shook his head. “No. Him-I’ve never seen.”

Isabel Raine had given them a lot of information-the photographs from the thumb drive in Camilla Novak’s purse, addresses, Web sites, names. She’d even drawn a few connections. Authors didn’t make bad detectives, it turned out.

“What else, Shane? What else do you have for us?”

Shane shook his head. “I am paid to be of service. And I did that for the Raines. It’s not my job to ask questions or pass judgment. I just hold open the door.”

Grady just stared at him for a minute. Shane was an oddity he didn’t quite understand. Grady couldn’t stop asking questions; finding the answers drove him. Analyzing, extrapolating meaning, finding connections-it was his job, his life. Maybe he had it all wrong.

“Camilla was a good girl, I think,” Shane said. “She made mistakes, had problems. But she wanted to be good.” He was just thinking out loud, Grady thought. Shane was tired, sinking into the depression that follows too much alcohol.

“Wanting to be good doesn’t make you good,” said Jez quietly, maybe a little sadly. She was looking down at her feet. Grady thought she should spring for a new pair of shoes.

“SO WHAT ARE we thinking here?” asked Grady. They were back at their desks on the homicide floor, facing each other. It was late, most everyone long gone for the night. They were both exhausted, but the adrenaline blast from earlier in the evening still had them edgy and wired.

Jez’s desk was a study of organization-neat stacks of folders, a few photos of her son, and nothing else. Grady’s was a field of clutter-papers waiting to be filed, a box of pens spilling its contents, a crumpled white bag