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saw him again.”
    â€œYou were angry he dumped you.”
    â€œSure…”
    â€œAngry enough to…?”
    â€œJust what’re you getting at?” Her face went red. “Man, you’ve got nerve, girl. I didn’t have to let you in here. You got no right…Besides, everyone knew Carol did it.”
    The phone rang. She picked up the handset beside her. “Yeah, it just came in,” she said, turning away from me. “Same terms as usual.” She hung up.
    â€œWhat if she didn’t do it?”
    â€œWhat? Oh. Look, I don’t know what she told you.”
    â€œShe died last week.”
    She tilted her head. “That’s tough.” She pursed her lips. “Doesn’t change anything. Why would I kill him? I loved him.”
    â€œPeople do funny things when they’re hurt.” So maybe that was true. “He was leaving you for another chick.”
    â€œThat was his story. Could’ve been giving me a line.”
    I was running around in circles. “You and the cab driver were the last ones to see him alive. Did the cops talk to you?”
    â€œYeah. They wanted to know if I saw anything. Maybe another car. Someone hanging around. They asked the cabbie too.”
    â€œDid you see anything?”
    â€œI was so mad I couldn’t see straight. Freddy got out of the car, and I told the cabbie to burn rubber. Wasn’t in a state to notice anything.”
    â€œWhat about the cabbie?”
    She shook her head. “You’re wasting your time, honey. She did it.”
    Someone knocked at Jill’s door. I jumped.
    She heaved herself off the couch. “He was right about one thing,” she said. “I deserved better.” She waved at the shabby sofa and chairs. “Never got it. Just a daycare and mouths to feed. Nobody looking out for me but me.”
    It was time to take off. I still needed my job.
    I got up, wondering if Jill had told me the truth or if she was a good liar.
    When she opened the door, two big guys with tattoos stood there. “Hey, Jill, baby, whatcha got for us today?”
    She let them inside, and we all stared at each other.
    â€œI do some business on the side,” she said to me, nervous again. “Key chains.”
    I nodded. Couldn’t care less what she was dealing.
    I mumbled my goodbyes and slunk past them out the door.
    â€œHey, Jill, who’s your friend?”
    She closed the door and I headed for the elevator. I was so out of there.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    T he lawyer’s secretary had called and said the papers for the estate were ready. So after work, I changed into my knock-off designer jeans and touched up my hair and makeup. I’d never been to a lawyer’s office before.
    I took the subway downtown to King Street, then walked east a few blocks. It looked like one of those sketchy neighborhoods that artists made funky, and while it was still cheap, the developers moved in. New condos were going up behind boards. Upscale furniture stores beside shops selling cigarettes and hot dog buns.
    When I got to the street number, I stopped, surprised. It was a storefront. I’d pictured something different. Something more private up some stairs in an office building. At least the blinds were closed inside the window and you couldn’t see in. Randall Webb, Law Office was painted in small block letters on the glass.
    I opened the door and walked in. The reception desk was piled neatly with folders. Some chairs sat near the window. A door behind the desk was open, leading to another room. A man was talking on the phone in the invisible distance. I headed over.
    Once at the door, I got shy and just stood there. Randall Webb was leaning back in his leather chair behind a desk. Not what I expected. Thinning brown hair, kind of long for a lawyer pushing fifty. The sleeves of his white shirt rolled up.
    â€œLook, there’s not much more I can do,” he was saying into the phone.