"I don't know nothing about it, I'm sure," Mrs. Dugan quavered.
"This is just routine."
Fink pushed into the apartment, followed by Lennox. They went down a hall to a tiny parlor facing a narrow court. It was dark and cluttered with dismal furniture. Fink remained standing. He caught Jake's eye, looked down at a chair, then back at Lennox and shook his head slightly. Lennox remained standing. His skin began to crawl. Mrs. Dugan slumped down in a rocker.
"The Health Department had a complaint this butcher is selling bad meat," Fink repeated. "Anybody in the building buy from him?"
"There's nobody but us," Mrs. Dugan said.
"No tenants?"
She shook her head.
"Just you and your husband?"
She nodded.
"Dugan's the super?"