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He shakes his head. “Just bring the containers over here. I don’t want to dirty up any dishes.” He taps furiously at his phone. “We’re going to get our money back.”

“Is that necessary? The syrup and whipped cream couldn’t have been more than a few bucks.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

The doorbell rings. I smile at Aus. “Hold just a second, Karen. That’s probably our courier dropping off the rest of the food. It probably rolled out of the bag while he was driving.”

Aus takes a seat. “Right. Okay. Sorry for going off. I’m just a little tense this morning.”

“The food will help.” I cross toward the door, open it.

A middle-aged man dressed in a suit stands there.

A little formal for a delivery driver.

I squint at him. “Yes?”

“Are you Dorothea Storm?” he asks, his tone even.

“Who’s asking?”

He flashes a badge. “I’m with the Chicago Police Department. I was told Ms. Storm was staying here while her place was being searched.”

My heart starts thumping harder. I paste on a smile. Don’t want to look guilty.

I’m not, but at this point everything I do will be scrutinized.

“I’m Dorothea Storm. Thea for short. May I ask why you’re here?”

He hands me a manila envelope. “You’re being asked to come in for questioning regarding the investigation around the murder of Kinsley Blackwood. Next Thursday.”

I widen my eyes. “Why?”

“You’re a person of interest, ma’am.”

“I didn’t do it.”

“If you didn’t do anything, you have nothing to worry about.” He looks inside. “Is this where you’ll be staying until then?”

“My house should be free tomorrow—” I swallow. I don’t want to go back there. It’s spoiled. At least here Aus can protect me. “Yes. I’ll be staying here.”

“Great. Please don’t leave town. You’re entitled to bring counsel if you wish. If you have plans, cancel them. This is your top priority. Have a good day.” He turns and heads back to a black car parked in front of Aus’s apartment complex.

I walk back into Aus’s kitchen, the envelope in hand.

Aus is at the table, eating already. “Did they have the whipped cream?” he asks through a mouthful of pancake.

Right now, I want to tell him everything. Want to collapse into his arms in tears so he’ll tell me everything is all right.

But I don’t want to drag Aus into any more of this bullshit. He’s already done so much for me. Me, a woman he met a few days ago.

“Just a kid looking for some odd jobs for pocket change. I turned him away.”

“Damn. I have a TV to mount. He could help with that.”

“I’m sure he’ll come back.” I sit down at the table. “Better eat this breakfast before it gets cold.”

I take a bite of pancake. I can’t taste anything, and it’s not because we didn’t get the whipped cream or extra syrup.