“My thought exactly. But from her, or about her?”
Topping the stairs, Keynes strode straight inside the apartment, clearly familiar with the layout. He glanced around only briefly, then stated, “Definitely, her mother was here.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Rosa cleans when under stress. The kitchen—that’s her doing.”
“And Florence?”
“More relaxed in her housekeeping standards, prone to clutter.”
“So you dropped her off yesterday. She came upstairs to her mother. And then?”
Keynes produced his phone from his coat pocket. He hit a number while still walking around the gray-lit space.
“Rosa. Dr. Keynes. How are you? I’m fine, thanks for asking. You spent some time with Flora yesterday, didn’t you? I thought I saw your truck parked down the street. Exactly. I understand. I know. Her behavior does appear to be escalating. Yes, thank heavens she was all right. Her staying at the farm is an old argument, Rosa. You know I can’t intervene, not that it would make a difference with Florence anyway. Did you speak to Flora again last night? Maybe before bedtime? You called, but she didn’t answer. Thank you. I’ll do my best to follow up with her today. But of course. Pleasure to speak with you again. ’Bye.”
Keynes pocketed his phone, once again frowned. “Florence’s mother left her shortly after one yesterday. She hasn’t heard from Flora since.”
“That unusual?”
“Not necessarily. But the unlocked apartment is.” He walked into the bedroom, glanced at the plastered walls but didn’t seem surprised by the onslaught of articles. Instead, he headed for Flora’s phone.
“Password protected,” he observed. “So no way of checking the messages immediately. It’s possible she headed out to meet someone.”
“And left her front door open behind her?”
“No sign of forced entrance. Or signs of a struggle. Given Flora’s training, if someone had tried to grab her, she wouldn’t have gone down without a fight.”
“Unless she was ambushed. Maybe while she was sleeping.” D.D. gestured to the bed, which bore the only signs of disturbance in the whole place.
“But how would the attacker gain entrance? Flora would’ve definitely checked the locks before heading to bed.”
D.D. sighed. That was the piece of the puzzle that kept stumping her as well. She’d only just met Florence Dane yesterday, but she already knew enough to know the girl was hardly foolish about these things.
“Let’s check with the landlords,” Keynes decided. “Maybe they heard something.”
The landlords turned out to be an elderly couple, Mary and James Reichter, who’d owned the residence for the past fifty-two years and lived in the first-floor unit. They recognized Keynes from other visits, and greeted D.D. with beaming smiles that made her feel like she should’ve come bearing some kind of housewarming gift.
She and Keynes politely declined their offer of coffee, but still found themselves ushered into the front parlor, which bore an antique love seat and enough original oak trim to make D.D. salivate.
She perched tentatively on the edge of the delicate sofa, letting Keynes take the lead with the questions as he seemed to know the couple.
It took some loud, if not downright shouted, inquiries to determine the Reichters had seen Flora return home yesterday, sometime around midmorning. Her mother had already arrived by then, showing up again after lunch with some blueberry muffins to share. Excellent, excellent muffins. Rosa was an exquisite baker.
Oh yes, Flora. No, they did not remember seeing her again. But then, they’d been watching their shows in the back of the unit. So she could’ve gone out. Possible. Was anything wrong? Something they should know?
Keynes trod carefully. He had a delicate touch with the couple, D.D. observed. More neighborly than official, and yet at the same time keeping just enough reserve to have them striving to answer his questions.
Had they seen anyone else enter the building yesterday? Say, a stranger, someone they didn’t recognize?
No.
What about sounds, or commotions? Maybe a disturbance in the middle of the night?
No, sir. And they would be woken up by such a thing. Didn’t sleep so well these days.
What about new friends or acquaintances they’d recently seen with Flora? Or any inquiries about her apartment?
Well, except for the building inspector . . .
D.D. and Keynes both drew up, exchanged a glance.
“Building inspector?” D.D. spoke up.
“Day before. Or maybe the day before the day before. Time gets a little confusing,” James began, looking at his wife.
“Tuesday,” his wife provided. “The building inspector came on Tuesday. Said our place was overdue for review. All private rental units have to be inspected by the city every five years, you know. Why, it’s been ages since anyone’s visited us. Guess we really do lose track of time!”
“You showed him around the entire building? All the units?” Keynes asked.
“James showed him around the outside, the fire escape. But inside the units, well, navigating the stairs at our age . . .” Mary smiled apologetically. “We gave him keys to the units. Asked him to please knock first to alert the renters. He wasn’t gone long at all. Did his thing, then came down to tell us all looked well. We’d get our updated certificate shortly.”
“Wait,” D.D. interjected. “You have keys to all the units? Even Flora Dane’s apartment?”
James seemed insulted by her tone. “Of course. This is still our house. We are entitled to access. Plus, for the sake of maintenance or, heaven forbid, something like a fire. Our renters, they’re very busy. It’s easier if we can just go in, do what needs to be done when it needs to be done. We’ve never had any complaints or problems, not even from Flora. We respect her privacy, of course. We understand.”
The way he said the last word implied enough. That they knew Flora’s history, and were familiar with why she felt a need for extra security.
“Was Flora home for the building inspection?” D.D. asked.
“I don’t know, dear,” Mary answered.
“Did you tell her about the inspection? Mention it when you saw her again?”
“No, I don’t believe we’ve run into her since it happened.”
“What did the building inspector look like?” Keynes asked.
“Oh, he was a nice-looking young man. Dressed a little casual for my tastes—tan slacks, a blue dress shirt, but then no one wears suits anymore. He had ID. I’m not naive, you know. I did make him show it.”
“What about his size?” D.D. spoke up more softly. “Big guy? Small? Young, old?”
“Oh, he was very official-looking. Clean-shaven. Short dark hair. And big. Strong. Like a fireman. He looked like a very capable young man.” Mary smiled brightly.
A big man. A strong man. Who’d been handed over the keys to Flora’s apartment by her well-intentioned landlords. D.D. looked over at Keynes. Could tell from the expression on his face he’d just connected the same dots she had. Such as, all the best locks in the world couldn’t offer protection against a man with a key. Flora took pride in her preparations. And yet, if their suspicions were correct, her attacker had already been one step ahead.
Keynes rose to standing, offering his hand, finalizing their departure.
Out in the foyer, phone in hand, it only took D.D. a matter of minutes to confirm what both she and Keynes already knew: Boston’s Inspectional Services Department hadn’t sent anyone to this building in the past few days, let alone had anything scheduled for anytime soon. The building-inspector guise had been a ruse, a very effective means of gaining access to Flora’s keys in order to make a master copy.
“I’ll call the crime scene techs,” D.D. said quietly.
They headed back upstairs to wait in silence.
Chapter 16
I’M AWAKE.