“But then there’s the cat,” he pointed out.
“What about it?”
“We didn’t see one.”
“Cats hide. It could be lurking in the shadows, plotting Burt’s untimely demise,” she said.
“There was food in the bowl. What cat goes five days without eating all its food?”
“So maybe someone’s feeding it?”
“And maybe that someone knows where Larry went,” he said.
She eyed him with what looked like a combination of respect and lust. “Impressive.”
“Yeah. I get that a lot,” he said, rubbing his knuckles on his shirt. “Let’s refill the cat dishes and go knock on some doors.”
She headed toward the kitchen then stopped. “Anti-depressants. A depressing house. Being away from his family. You don’t think he did something…”
“Like jump off a bridge?” He shrugged. “Coulda been a heart attack. Coulda been a mugging. A hit and run. An overdose. Or maybe he met a hot girl at a bar and crashed at her place for a few days.”
“What does it say about his life when the only explanations for his disappearance are that he died, had a secret drug problem, or he shacked up with a hot girl,” she said dryly.
“Maybe our pal Larry here staged his own disappearance and moved to a nice tropical island. You never know.”
Riley’s nose twitched.
“What?” he asked.
“Huh?” she asked, blinking at him.
“Your nose twitched. What are you seeing?”
She shrugged. “It’s more like a feeling. Like it feels like he had every intention of coming back. But I’m not getting anything clear. I think I burned up my psychic quota in the dead lady’s closet.”
Nick reached for her and gave her shoulders a rub. “Did you see anything when you were with Weber?”
“I had a vision in the victim’s closet. Not the murder or anything. But kind of a glimpse into her life. I didn’t barf, but I still kind of scared Kellen when I went all weak in the knees.”
He didn’t care for the idea of his girlfriend going weak in the knees around another guy.
“I think I have to build up my psychic endurance or something. I’m out of shape.”
“Don’t let your grandmother hear you say that tonight,” he warned. “She seems like the kind of lady who’ll force you into psychic boot camp in a sweat lodge in Thailand.”
Riley grimaced. “I think that’s why she’s here.”
“I’ll keep the scary lady away from you,” he promised, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “Come on, Thorn. Let’s see what the neighbors have to say.”
No one answered the door on either side of Larry’s place. But the third door opened to a short, muscle-bound guy with a mid-life crisis earring and a fresh tattoo on his overinflated bicep. He was short enough for it to be a problem with medium-height women. He either had a nice tan or some Italian or Latino genes and smelled like he’d invested in a body spray company. Nick hazarded a guess that the shiny sports car in the lot belonged to this guy.
“You selling something?” the guy asked hopefully. His gaze landed on Riley and lit up. Pretty girl radar. “You can come in or whatever.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I’m Riley, and this is Nick.”
“Come in! Come in! I’m Roy. Holy crap. Is that a lion?”
Burt regally trotted past Roy.
