Page 60 of A Seer and Present Danger

“I am. And I’m even more determined to figure out who did this. No one should die like that.”

“Good! Keep that fire burning. Let me get you home.”

* * *

Death held the menu with the tips of his fingers, almost as if it were a rare manuscript that could be damaged by his touch. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt covered in bright rocket ships that sort of resembled adult bedroom items.

“Hey, Than,” I said, looking away from the shirt. “What can I get you today?”

The Beatles were singing good day to the sunshine, and I had my order pad ready to go. I tried to think what menu item would come next alphabetically after applesauce. Artichoke dip maybe?

“The apricot jam,” he pointed at the small addition beneath the sides and extras. “Is it fresh?”

“No, it comes in one of those,” I bent my fingers to indicate the size, “little tubs with the other jams.”

“Ah. And this sauce is to be ordered with another item, I assume?”

“Yep. Toast is a popular pick. Or biscuits.”

He hummed considering. “I shall have toast. And apricot jam.”

“Got it. Can I get you coffee or tea?”

His steady (disappointed) gaze made me feel like I’d flunked a test.

“I have,” he reached for the box next to him and placed it on the table, “tea.”

“How could I forget? Right. Hot water coming up!”

He folded his hands on the table, patient, implacable, and intense. Even though he was technically vacationing, he still threw off some Big God Power vibes.

“Say, Than.” I retrieved the menu. “You’re the,” I whispered, “god of death.”

His eyebrows rose. “Yes.”

“And you’re a reserve officer for Ordinary’s police. Can’t you just tell us who killed Hugo and Kenny?”

Somehow his gaze got even more intense. “I am on vacation, Piper Themati.”

“But they’re dead.”

“Yes.”

It was like a huge door had just been slammed shut. Conversation over.

Then he tipped his head. “Fate chooses her own victims, as do many other beings. While I vacation, my interest lies elsewhere.”

“Like on books and apricot jam,” I suggested.

“Just so.”

I tucked my order pad in my pocket. I couldn’t fault him for not wanting to get mixed up in the murder. After an eternity of dishing out death, I’d want a break too.

I zipped off to place his order, brought it back to him in a jiffy and got back to work.

The diner hummed along at a steady pace but as soon as I had a chance, I checked in with Buzz.

He was leaning one hip on the counter, out of the way of the grill and prep station, drinking a cola from a glass bottle.