Fink led the way to the tenement doorway alongside the butcher store. Lennox had expected him to enter the store. Instead, Fink entered the house in which the store occupied the street floor front. The letter boxes were battered and unnamed. A card stuck in the glass door read DUGAN--SUPER. "It's a condemned house," Fink said. He pushed open the door and walked past a lopsided flight of stairs. He knocked on the door of the rear apartment. Lennox held his breath. There was an incredibly foul odor in the building. The door opened and a shriveled woman appeared. "Mrs. Dugan?" Fink said quietly. "The Health Department had a complaint this butcher is selling bad meat. I'm Fink from the Precinct." He slipped his wallet out, flipped it open to display the blue and gold badge pinned inside, then returned it to his back pocket. "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?" "Yes." "You buy meat from this butcher?" Her hands twitched on her knees. Fink waited patiently for her to answer. "You buy meat from this butcher?" "Yes," Mrs. Dugan whispered. "Any of it bad?" "No." Fink took out his notebook and scribbled. Lennox flexed his right arm against his chest, then looked around uneasily. "Where's Dugan?" Fink inquired. "He went up to the roof to look for leaks." The woman tapped her knee with a stained forefinger. "On account of the snow." "Uh-huh. Snow was pretty bad last night?" She nodded and tapped her knee again. "Awful. He been up there all morning. The roofs is shot." Fink put away the notebook. As he turned to leave he jerked his head at a framed photograph of a man in World War I uniform. "That Dugan?" "Yes," she said. "He lost his eye at Shatto Theory." "Tough," Fink murmured and departed. Outside in the hall the odor was sickening. "Smell that?" Fink said. "It's why the Health Department got those complaints." "Aren't you going to check the butcher?" "Is the old lady still in the apartment?" "Yes." "Uh-huh. Where's the way to the basement? Oh. Here. Come on." Fink opened a wooden door behind the flight of stairs and produced a flashlight. He started down. Lennox followed. "Why the basement?" he asked. "Didn't you see her give it away?" "Give what away?" "When she said Dugan was up on the roof. She kept pointing down with her finger."