"Sure not, Mrs. Ebbermann. Does Shirley have a key to your apartment?"
"Yes. I gave her her own key, a pretty one, with her initials on it, for her seventh birthday, so she wouldn't have to push the buzzer when she came home from school."
"Where's your husband?" I asked taking a look at Ramirez' notebook to get her address.
"Shirley's father? Somewhere in Boston. We've been separated for two years. But I wish he were here!"
"Would you give me the key to your apartment, Mrs. Ebbermann? We'd like to take a look around."
She gave me a key. "But she's not there. I told you, that's the first place I looked."
"I know," I said. "We just want to look around. We won't disturb anything."
Then His Grace and I got out of there as fast as we could.
I keyed open the front door of the apartment building, and we went inside. Neither of us said anything. There was no need to. We knew what must have happened, we could see it unfolding as plainly as if we'd watched it happen.