"I'm from the medical examiner's office," explained M. J. "We think your roommate-"

"I'm not talkin' to no one from the Health Department."

"I'm not from the Health Department. I'm from-"

"I went in for my shots. I'm cured, okay? So leave me alone." She started to close the door, but Leland stuck his hand out to block it.

"They wanna know 'bout Xenia. I brought 'em here."

"Why?"

" 'Cause this where she lived."

"No, dodo. Why they askin'?"

"She died of a drug OD," said M. J. "Did you know that?"

The girl glanced nervously at Leland. "Yeah. Maybe I did."

"Were you aware she was shooting up?"

A cautious shrug. "Maybe."

Adam moved forward to interject himself into the dialogue. "Could we, perhaps, come inside for a moment?" he asked. "Just to talk?" He smiled at her, a brilliant smile that showed off all those perfect white teeth of his. A smile, M. J. suspected, that few females could resist.

The girl seemed suitably impressed. Her gaze took in his clothes-shirt without a tie, casual slacks, all of it displayed on a superb frame.

"You from the Health Department too?" she asked.

"Not exactly…"

"You a cop?"

"No."

That seemed good enough for her. With a coquettish jangle of earrings, she indicated they could come in.

The place was like a Bedouin tent. Heavy drapes hung over the windows, casting the room in a purple gloom. Instead of chairs there were cushions on the floor and a single low-slung couch, its pillows embroidered with silk elephants and mirror chips. A familiar odor permeated the room-pot, thought M. J., with maybe the side-scent of patchouli. She settled on the couch next to Adam. Leland and his buddy stood off to the side, as though trying to blend into the Oriental wall hanging.

The girl-she told them her name was Fran- plopped down on a cushion and said, "Xenia and I, we didn't talk a lot, you know? So don't go thinking I can answer a whole lot of questions."

"Did you knew she was a junkie?" asked M. J.

"She liked her stuff, I guess."

"Where'd she get it from?"

"Lots of places." Fran's gaze flicked sideways, toward Leland. She licked her lips. "Mostly out of the neighborhood."

"Where?"

"I don't know. I guess she had people she'd go to, uptown. I'd have nothin' to do with it, see. I'm into natural stuff. Stuff you get off plants."

"Did she know Nicos Biagi?"

Fran laughed. "Hell. Nicos was everybody's friend."

M. J. took out the morgue photo of Jane Doe. "What about this girl? Recognize her?"

Fran paled as she realized it was a corpse she was looking at. She swallowed. "Yeah. That's one of Nicos's friends. Eliza."

"She's dead, too," said M. J. "Shot up the same stuff as Nicos and Xenia. Killed all three of them."

Fran handed back the photo and looked away.

"She was your roommate, Fran," said Adam. "She must have told you something."

"Look, she just lived here, okay? We weren't like major sisters or somethin'. She had her room, I had mine."

"What about her room? Are her things still there?"

"Naw, they already come and searched it."

"Who did?"

"Cops, who else?"

M. J. frowned at her. "What?"

"You know, those creeps with the badges and billy clubs? They come and picked it all apart for evidence."

"Did you get a name? A precinct?"

"Hell, you think I'm gonna argue when some guy's shovin' his badge in my face?"

M. J. glanced at Adam, saw his look of puzzlement. Why had the police shown up, and what had they been searching for?

That question troubled her all the way back down the six flights of stairs. She and Adam stepped out into the pale sunshine and blinked up at the Project towers. Those prison towers again, she thought. A constant reminder that this was a world not easily escaped.

Or easily penetrated. They'd spent half the day in South Lexington, and had no information to show for it, except the knowledge that the three victims had indeed been acquainted.

Perhaps that was the best they could hope for.

They sent Leland and his buddy off with twenty bucks apiece extra, and walked back to Adam's car. It was still there, courtesy of Anthony's hired guards-an additional service, they were informed, requiring an additional fee. Once they had dispensed with those boys they got into the car and sat there, silently regarding the barren strip of South Lexington.

Adam let out a breath, heavy with disappointment. "That wasn't very productive. Expensive, yes. But not productive."

"Well, it's clear they all knew each other. Which means any one of them could've been the source, passed the drug on to the others. I'd bet on Nicos."

"Why Nicos?"

"You heard what his parents said. He worked evenings at the Super E. Think about it. Since when can a part-time stockboy afford a new car?" She shook her head. "He was dealing on the side. I'm sure of it. And somehow, he managed to get his hands on a supply of Zestron-L."

They were quiet for a moment. Then Adam said, "It could still be Maeve."

She looked at him. He was staring ahead, his eyes focused on some faraway point. "What if she is the source, Adam? What then?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "I suppose there's no way around it. She'll have to be charged. Sale of a dangerous drug. Theft. Whatever the law requires. It's not in my hands any longer. Not with three people dead."

Again, they fell silent. He knows it now, she thought. Maeve is beyond salvation. The time to set her right had long passed. All those missed opportunities, the months, the years when he might have made a difference, would haunt him, as it did every parent of a wayward child.

The sound of skipping feet and rope snapping rhythmically against the pavement penetrated the silence of the car. M. J. looked out and saw Celeste jumping rope, her bird's-nest hair bouncing with each skip. The girl drew even with the car window and she jumped in place, all the time nonchalantly ignoring the occupants of the car.

"Hello there," called M. J.

The girl glanced sideways. "Hi."

"You seem to be everywhere today."

"Gotta keep myself busy." The girl panted. "That's what my mama tells me." She stopped jumping and sidled up to M. J.'s window. Curiously she peered inside. "Like your car."

"Thank you."

"Didn't tell ya nothin', did she?"

M. J. frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"No way Fran's gonna talk, y'know. Not with that Leland hangin' around."

"Everyone is. He's Jonah's man."

"Jonah?"

"You know. The main man. Can't take a step round here, 'less Jonah lets you."

"We asked for Jonah's help. He sent us Leland."

" 'Course he sent Leland. Wasn't gonna let you talk to no one without a set of his ears around." Celeste suddenly glanced over her shoulder and spotted a boy watching her from a doorway. At once she began to skip rope again, moving away up the sidewalk. M. J. thought the girl would continue on her way, but when Celeste reached the front of the car, she circled left, onto the street, and back along the other side of the car, toward Adam's window.

"Jonah, he's worried, you know," said Celeste, all the time skipping lightly on the blacktop.

"Why?" asked Adam.

"He thinks you're one of them. But that's stupid. I can tell you aren't. 'Cause you're too obvious."

"What do you mean by-" Adam didn't finish the question, as Celeste was already skipping away, toward the rear of the car. He and M. J. glanced at each other. "This kid ought to be on police payroll," he muttered.

Celeste had rounded the rear bumper and was moving on the sidewalk again, coming alongside M. J.'s window.

"Who's he afraid of?" M. J. asked the bouncing child.

"The folks who killed Nicos."