Page 87 of The New Couple in 5B

“Funny how Abi’s name comes up again and again,” says Olivia.

I hear the crackle that the intercom makes and now I get it.

“He’s listening,” I say. “Right now.”

Crowe’s face goes from hard suspicion to concern. Chad puts an arm around me.

“The intercom,” I say. “Hey, Abi.”

Everyone’s looking at me and the silence expands. “Hey, Abi,” I say again, this time louder. But he doesn’t respond.

“Rosie,” says Olivia, looking concerned about my sanity.

“The intercom,” says Chad, clarifying. “It’s voice activated. He’s supposed to answer when you say ‘Hey, Abi.’”

“Wow,” says Olivia, looking toward the foyer. “That’s creepy.”

“Right?” I answer. “I think he might be listening right now. There’s a weird crackle that comes from the speaker sometimes.”

Chad’s arm tightens around me. “Rosie has a thing about privacy. She’s not a fan of the voice-activated intercom. We plan to disable it.”

“I wouldn’t be comfortable with that, either,” says Crowe, Olivia nodding her agreement.

“So,” she says, bringing us back to point. “Since this doorman’s name keeps coming up, maybe you should be paying more attention to him,” suggests Olivia again.

“I’ve spoken to him,” says Crowe, eyes on me. “He tells a different version of your encounter with the box.”

I blow out a breath. “I’m sure.”

“And he claims that he doesn’t have access to your apartment and wouldn’t have been able to return the box, as you claim.”

I don’t say anything because it’s just my word against Abi’s. And now that Xavier is gone, there’s no hope that he will be able to corroborate my version of events.

“But,” says Crowe, “I went the extra mile on this and looked into your doorman. Mr. Abi Bekiri immigrated to America from Albania with his family in 1950. Mr. Bekiri has no criminal record. He graduated high school, became a US citizen. When his father died of a heart attack, Mr. Bekiri dropped out of school to work and help his mother take care of his two siblings. He has been working at the Windermere since 1962.”

We all exchange looks. It seems impossible. What is that? More than sixty years? It’s an eon.

“He is seventy-eight years old, claims that he loves his job here and has no intention of retiring. Meanwhile, he cares for his ninety-eight-year-old mother, who is in assisted living up in Queens.”

Abi doesn’t look a day over sixty. I conjure his straight posture, unlined face, quick movements, the cool intelligence of his gaze.

“Yoga,” says Detective Crowe, as if reading my thoughts. “He has a daily yoga practice, which he claims keeps him so fit and young-looking.”

“Impressive,” says Chad. I can see him making a mental note to take up yoga.

“Meanwhile, his alibi for the day of Dana Lowan’s murder checks out. He’d been on duty since 6:00 a.m. He left at noon to spend the afternoon with his mother in Queens. It was her ninety-eighth birthday. The records at the nursing home, as well as video surveillance, confirm his visit.

“He’s a model citizen and family man, hardworking, dedicated,” Crowe concludes.

I find myself shaking my head but say nothing.

“Your movements that day are well-documented, as well, Ms. Lowan.”

Olivia’s phone is chiming and beeping. But she keeps her focus on Detective Crowe.

“Mr. Lowan on the other hand—”

I feel Chad stiffen.

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