“Felicity Johnson.”
His animated face froze, then crumpled noticeably. “Aw, damn, something happened to her, didn’t it? I knew she’d never leave Taffy like that.”
“I’m afraid she was murdered.” Ashwini watched him for any signs of possible guilt as she delivered the news, saw only pain.
“Who’d do that?” A bewildered question. “She was no threat to anyone.”
“You remember her,” Janvier said, leaning against the door he’d closed.
“Yeah, she was sweet. Real nice.” His sallow face even more pale and his previously steady body swaying a fraction, he took a seat behind his desk. “You sure it’s her?”
“We haven’t yet been able to run DNA or find a fingerprint match,” Ashwini said more gently than she might have before witnessing his reaction, “but yes, we believe it’s her.” It was too much to hope that Felicity’s room remained untenanted, but if Seth had kept her tenancy application, then fingerprints might be a possibility.
“Most tenants in a place like this,” the super said, staring at his overflowing desk, “they get so hard, so angry with life that they just want someone to blame—I’m an easy target. But Felicity isn’t . . . wasn’t like that.” A shaky smile. “When I fixed her door after it threatened to fall off its hinges, she baked me muffins. I never had fresh-baked muffins before.”
Another glimpse of who Felicity had been, another stab of fury at the person who’d ended the life of a woman with stars in her eyes. “Who’s Taffy?”
“Oh, Taffy . . . was her cat.”
Deciding to risk it, Ashwini flipped around one of the chairs and sat with her arms along the back. “How long ago did Felicity leave?”
“Well, ’bout eight months ago she started going away for a day or two. She asked me to check in on Taffy, that’s how come I know.”
That fit with Sina’s account of when Felicity had met her mysterious rich boyfriend. “Go on.”
“Then she started staying away for longer and longer.” He swallowed, his voice hoarse. “I figured she’d give up her lease, but she didn’t, popped in and out until about six months ago.”
One more month, we’re closer by one more month, Ashwini thought on a fierce wave of exultation, but didn’t interrupt the desolate man.
“The last couple of times I saw her, maybe two weeks apart,” Seth said, his eyes bleak, “she didn’t look so good. See, the thing with Felicity was, no matter how bad it got, no matter how low she was on funds—” He broke off, started again. “I cut her a bit of slack now and then. Gave her a little extra time to get the rent to me; I knew she’d be good for it.”
He shook his head. “Anyway, the thing was, she was always happy, you know? Like a bunny or something. All peppy and shit.” His shoulders began to shake, sudden tears rolling down his face. His sobs were loud, harsh, and real, a dam that had burst without warning.
Janvier ran his hand over her hair before she could reach out to the distraught man, then moved past her to squeeze Seth’s shoulder. He returned to his previous position only when the other man began to calm.
“Sorry,” the super gasped out, lifting the bottom of his T-shirt to wipe his face. “I kept hoping that she was living the high life on a yacht in the Mediterranean or something, but I knew, I knew she wouldn’t leave Taffy.”
A meow sounded right then. A small gray cat slid through the gap in the door behind the desk on its heels. Seth’s face crumpled again at the sight of the cat, but he pulled himself together on a shuddering breath. “Come ’ere, Taffy,” he said, and the cat jumped up into his lap. “She’s as sweet as Felicity. I never was a cat guy, but then Felicity didn’t come back . . .” Shoulders slumped, he petted the purring animal.
“I’m sorry.” The words were inadequate, but they were all she had until they tracked down the person who’d hurt Felicity.
“I want to help,” Seth said, wiping the back of his hand over his eyes and lifting his head. “Felicity, I never saw her down, you know? But those last two times, it was like she was . . . fading. As if someone was stealing her spirit.” A vein pulsed along his temple. “I asked her if her boyfriend was hitting her, but she said she’d just given too much blood.”
“So,” Ashwini said, thinking through what he’d shared, “she wasn’t really living here those last months but she never took Taffy?”
“No, said her guy didn’t like cats. I told her no man was worth giving up Taffy, but she just laughed.” He petted the cat again, the repetitive action easing the tension in his body. “I couldn’t figure out why she kept the apartment, wasted her money. She knew I’d take care of Taffy if she really needed it . . . I hope she knew.”
“I think she did.” To Ashwini, Felicity’s actions said the other woman had felt safe here, and that she’d had enough misgivings about her new life to cling to that safety as long as she could. “Can you remember the exact date of the last time you saw her?”
“No, but I can find it.” Opening a big black diary scrawled with so many notations, Ashwini didn’t know how he made sense of it, he backtracked until he found the note of her visit. “No, it was shredded,” he said when Ashwini asked about the tenancy agreement. “Did you want to look at her things instead?”