Chapter Twelve
When he returned to check on her, the building superintendent helped Taz identify about a dozen tenants who had been wandering the hallways at eight that morning; women with laundry, men rushing to join the race to an office cubical. Armed with her list, Taz started knocking on doors beginning with apartment 1502.
Mrs. Renfrew was a sweet old bird who would have been cast as the perfect Mrs. Santa Clause. “Ow-o-o, the police.” Her voice was tinged with excitement as she eyed the ID wallet through wire-rimmed spectacles. “Come in, please. I’ve just made chocolate chip cookies.”
“Thanks, but no. I just need to ask a couple of questions.”
Renfrew was hearing none of it. “Nonsense. Into the kitchen with you and I’ll get a plate.”
Taz jacked a corner of her mouth. Be easier
