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gestured toward the door and then the top of the building as he talked.
    I didn’t stop walking until Jeff moved to open the door.
    “Percival in that much of a state, or did you miss me?” he asked as he pulled on the heavy steel handle, and I returned his smile. He was cute, and probably not too used to being turned down.
    “I’ll never tell.” I stopped just inside the door, shooting a glance at the elevator. Hopefully Landers was occupied, if he was around.
    “Then I choose to believe the latter,” he said. “Nothing wrong with a Wednesday morning ego boost.”
    My smile widened into a grin. “I am here on business.” Every word true. I leaned on the wall and feigned innocence. “There are still police cars all over the place. What’s that about?”
    He raised his eyebrows and lowered his voice. “Someone died.”
    I popped my mouth into an O and widened my eyes. “How awful! Who was it?”
    “Dr. Maynard. Great man. Nice. Really smart. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt him.”
    “Hurt him? Surely they don’t suspect…” I let it trail off and he nodded. Bingo. I arranged my face into an appropriately sorrowful expression.
    My brain flashed through what I could safely ask without looking too interested. It’s a tricky line, getting someone to talk about something sensitive. “What kind of doctor was he? Did he work at one of the hospitals?”
    “A long time ago, I think,” he said. “But he had his own office for the whole time I’ve known him. Retired to pursue his passions, he said.”
    Kyle’s jealous wife theory flashed through my head, but I couldn’t start picking at the good doctor’s personal life without making Jeff wonder why I wanted to know.
    “That’s so sad.”
    “It is. I heard building management last night, trying to convince the cops he’d had a heart attack. Don’t want to upset the other residents. Might affect their income or something. But the detective said there were marks on the doc’s neck.”
    Jackpot. No one else would have that yet as long as the coroner’s office didn’t put out a press release before the end of the day.
    “How wretched.” I shook my head. “On both counts. A man is dead, and people who knew him are worried about money.”
    “They liked the doc fine, but the dollar is king, for sure.”
    “The police going to be around much longer?”
    “I hope not. People get stopped out there and then bitch to me for twenty minutes about freedom and why the cops have a right to stop them from entering the building. I like this job because folks are mostly pleasant. I get to chit chat with them about their lives as they come and go.”
    I nodded, looking him over again. “What did you do before this? Or have you always dreamed of being a doorman?”
    “I have not.” He chuckled, turning to push the door open for a petite woman with silver hair and a fox stole. At eleven in the morning on a warm October day. “Mrs. Eason, you look lovely, as always.” Jeff smiled. “Anything exciting happening today?”
    She shook her head, a disapproving eye on the RPD officer twenty or so feet away. “I’m afraid not, Jeffrey.” Her voice quavered as she pulled the stole a millimeter tighter. “I’m on my way to Blythe and Rogers to start arrangements for David’s services.”
    I shrank back into the ficus decorating the corner, mouth shut and ears open, eyes on Mrs. Eason. Chanel blouse, Stuart Weitzman shoes, Louis Vuitton bag—she was a walking Saks billboard.
    “I don’t understand why this whole business has to be so unpleasant,” she said, shooting another something-I-stepped-in look at Officer Surly. “Why can’t they go away and let him rest in peace? Do you know, they won’t even let me set a date for his funeral until they’re through with this nonsense?”
    “I’m pretty sure they think someone killed him, ma’am.”
    Jeff’s eyes flicked to me as he spoke, and I cast mine down and tried to blend in with the papered