Free Shallow Graves by Jeremiah Healy

took out my ID folder, letting her mouth what she read on it.
    “What’s this for?“
    “The death of Mau Tim Dani.“
    The face behind the makeup seemed to cave in, crumbling the caked-on powder. “I don’t wanna talk about that.“
    “Ms. Fagan, it won’t take long. We can talk here at your convenience, or in a conference room with lawyers and a stenographer. Up to you.“
    She thought it over, maybe struggling to remember if that’s what happened on L.A. Law. “Let me get a robe, awright?“
    Fagan walked, then trotted behind the set, returning wrapped in a short terry cloth, sash undone. And now wearing the sunglasses, something she probably thought of in front of the mirror, to hide her emotions from me.
    I pulled up a couple of folded folding chairs and unfolded them. When we were settled, I said, “You and Mau Tim were friends.“
    “Yeah.“
    “You lived in the same apartment house.“
    “Yeah. You know the answers to all these, how come you gotta ask them?“
    Defiant, not flirty. “I’m trying to make this as easy for you as I can.“
    “Big of you.“
    “Also, when I get information from one person, I check it with another. That way, I can tell when somebody’s lying to me, setting themselves up for peijury down the line.“
    Peijury seemed to soak in. Fagan said, “Ask.“
    “You were having a party for Mau Tim that night.“
    “Right.“
    “Do you know where she was before the party that day?“
    “Up in her bathroom, taking a shower.“
    “Before that.“
    “I dunno. On a shoot somewheres, probably.“
    “Where?“
    “I dunno. She did quite a lot of shoots.“
    Quite a lot. “George Yulin said she wasn’t working that day. Called in, but wasn’t on a job.“
    “Then I dunno.“
    “How did you and Mau Tim come to live in the same building?“
    “She was living there, there was this other apartment open, so she says do I want it and I says yeah.“
    “I understand her family owns the building.“
    Fagan stopped. Then, “Far as I know. I just give Ooch the rent money, he sends it in.“
    “The super.“
    “Yeah.“
    “You pay him in cash?“
    “That’s the deal. What the fuck does this have to do with Mau Tim?“
    “Okay. That night—the night she was killed, when did you last see her?“
    “I didn’t.“
    “Didn’t see her?“
    “No.“
    “Did you talk with her?“
    “I called Mau when I got in. She said she’d be coming down for the party later, was there anything I needed.“
    “When was this?“
    “When I got home.“
    “When was that?“
    “I dunno. It was a nice warm day out, so I walked.“
    “Approximately.“
    “I dunno. Five, five-thirty, maybe.“
    “What did you tell her?“
    “Tell her?“
    I began to empathize with Chris the photographer. “When she asked you if you needed anything, what did you tell her?“
    “Oh, I says no, it’s your fucking birthday, for chrissakes.“
    “What did she say?“
    Another stop. “Not much. She had to call some people, maybe.“
    “Who?“
    “I dunno.“
    I didn’t see Holt giving me a look at the telephone company’s local line records when he did get them. “What did you do after you hung up with Mau Tim?“
    “I took a shower, trimmed my nails, turned on the stereo. What the fuck—“
    “Did you talk to her after that?“
    “No.“
    “Did you hear anything from her apartment?“
    “We’re like a floor apart. You can’t hear nothing except the water.“
    “The water?“
    “The water in the pipes. Mau Tim took a shower, I’d hear it in my kitchen pipes.“
    “And did you hear that?“
    “Sure. I was in my kitchen, I can hear the water through the pipes.“
    “That night?“
    “Yeah, that night.“
    “When?“
    Fagan huffed. “I dunno what fucking time. Look, I don’t keep looking at my watch, you know?“
    “Okay. At some point, you hear the water in the pipes.“
    “Right. I’m in my kitchen, getting things ready for the party, and I hear the water and then Oz comes