Page 72 of The New Couple in 5B

The mechanism of the elevator climbing up the shaft can be heard through the doors.

“Just one more thing,” says Crowe. “We have access to Dana’s phone records. Did you know that she and your husband were communicating no less than three times a day?”

I stay quiet. This does not jibe with what I know about Chad’s relationship to Dana. Is it true?

“They were cousins,” says Olivia flatly. “There was a relationship.”

I marvel at how quickly she comes up with explanations for things. It’s light speed.

“She was blackmailing him, wasn’t she?” says Detective Crowe. “That’s what he said, right?”

Did Chad say that? She was threatening to reveal something about him unless he sold the apartment and gave her the money. I guess that’s blackmail? But he swore he didn’t know what she was planning to tell me. And now she’s dead. My skin starts to tingle.

“Please make an appointment with my assistant.” Olivia’s voice is stern, even over the speakerphone. “We can settle all your questions at that time. The Lowans are witnesses, not suspects. They have suffered a personal tragedy.”

The elevator comes, the door opening with its well-oiled clack. George peers out, looking nervous. Maybe he expects me to be led away in cuffs.

“I’m here for you,” Detective Crowe says to me. There’s something sincere there, I think. But maybe he’s just manipulating me. “If you’re in trouble.”

I shake my head, back away from him. “I’m not. We’re not.”

He keeps his eyes on me as George shuts the door, and then they’re gone.

Olivia dresses me down, lectures me about throwing away my rights, eventually softens and acknowledges that honest people have a hard time turning the police away.

“Was she blackmailing him?” I ask.

She blows out a breath.

“I mean, shewasthreatening him, trying to strong-arm him into selling the apartment. But what did she really have to tell you? That he posed nude, that he had ex-girlfriends? You knew all of that. And it couldn’t come as much of a surprise that Chad would take off his clothes for money, right?”

“True,” I concede. “But why were they talking so much?”

“She was harassing him. She was unstable. He was trying to reason with her.”

I can tell by the way she says it that she doesn’t know that to be true exactly. Olivia is creating a narrative, weaving an explanation for all those calls. That’s what she does, create a story about why her clients are not guilty. She’s good at it.

“You know your husband, Rosie. You’re solid and he’s a good guy—a bit of a ham but that’s an occupational hazard, right?”

She’s right. I do know him, heart and soul. The reality of the situation starts to dawn. SomeonekilledDana,murderedher, very soon before we arrived to see her. Her words ring back:Don’t tell anyone in the building that you’re meeting me.Was she afraid of someone in this building? I didn’t tell anyone here that I was meeting her. Abi might have deduced because of the box. And maybe Xavier, if he noticed it. Maybe I should just take the service elevator to his back door and knock.

Abi’s words ring back:I think you’ll find that news travels fast here.Did Abi have something to do with Dana’s death? Or Xavier? DidChad?

No. No, that’s ridiculous.

Isn’t it?

The silence on the line expands, both of us lost in thought.

“Dana didn’t kill herself,” I say. “Someonekilled her. Who? Why?”

“We have no way of knowing. It could be about anything, and most likely nothing to do with you. We’ll make the appointment with Detective Crowe. We’ll share what we know and cooperate. But neither of you did anything wrong. And they have no reason to believe you did. Otherwise, they’d have come with a warrant.”

She’s so solid, so reasonable. And her words make sense—we don’t know Dana, at all. Any number of people could have wanted her dead, for any reason. It doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with us or the Windermere. Finally, I thank Olivia and we end the call.

I’m buzzing with anxiety, though. My creative thread is lost; Dana was murdered. Another violent death connected to the Windermere.

My call to Max goes unanswered—again. After fretting about him, and all the rest of it for a while longer, I decide to take the train out to Brooklyn.