“You’ve got to admit that you were in a very strange mood after you read that crime scene for me.”
“Maybe, but I didn’t try to seduce you. You’re the one who grabbed me and kissed me, remember? It’s not my fault my sunglasses fell off. I warned you.”
“I overreacted,” Mack said. “I’ll be prepared next time.”
“Forget it. There isn’t going to be a next time.”
He’d heard enough, Luke thought. He walked into the kitchen. Sophy was at the counter, cheeks flushed, arms crossed as she faced Rivington.
The cop was sitting in one of the chairs at the old oak breakfasttable. He looked frustrated but determined. His pistol was back in the holster.
“Don’t let me interrupt the conversation.” Luke held up a hand. “I’m just here for the coffee.”
“It’s ready.” Sophy swung around, grabbed the glass pot off the warming plate, and poured three cups. She picked up one and then waved at the other two mugs. “Help yourself. This is a self-service restaurant.”
“Thanks.” Luke went forward and selected a mug. He held up the sack of dog food. “Got a bowl Bruce can use?”
“Certainly.”
“Sure,” he muttered. “Anything for Bruce.”
Sophy glanced at him, frowning, as she opened a cupboard. “What?”
“Nothing.”
She took down a bowl. He poured kibble into it and set it on the floor. When he straightened he noticed there was a pot of oatmeal bubbling on the stove. It had been a long time since he’d had oatmeal for breakfast. It sounded good.
Without a word, Mack got to his feet, crossed the kitchen, and picked up the last mug of coffee. He returned to the table.
A scratching sound made everyone glance at the door.
“That will be Bruce,” Sophy said. “His feet will be muddy. I’ll get a towel.”
She put down her mug, opened a cupboard, and took out a couple of well-worn towels. She spread them on the floor and opened the door.
Bruce trotted over the threshold, saw Luke, and started forward.
“Stop right there,” Sophy ordered.
Luke watched, intrigued, as Bruce abruptly halted and gave Sophy an inquiring look.
“Good dog.” She crouched and wiped all four paws, fluffed his fur a few times, and then stood. “You’re free to go.”
Bruce licked her hand and hurried toward Luke. They exchanged their customary greeting and then Bruce went directly to the bowl of kibble.
Mack eyed Luke. “I assume you’re the reason Sophy isn’t available to consult for me. Who are you? Cop? The Feds?”
“Neither,” Luke said. “Private.”
Sophy took a carton of cream out of the refrigerator and shut the door. When she turned around Luke saw the amused look in her eyes, but she did not say anything.
“What kind of case are you working?” Mack asked, not bothering to hide his dismissive attitude.
“Missing persons. I heard you say something about chasing a killer?”
Mack grunted. “That’s my take on it but I can’t convince the captain. The ME says it looks like a heart attack or stroke. The victim is male. Early forties. Dressed in running gear. On the surface it looks like the guy went out for a jog and dropped dead. But there was no ID on the body. No phone. No keys. Nothing. They’re running fingerprints now.”
“What makes you think the victim was murdered?” Sophy asked. “There must be something that made you uneasy.”
