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chatting if we'd met under, say, any circumstances other than you breaking into my car."
    His expression softened and the tension in my shoulders lessened a notch.
    "My apologies. Old habit."
    I turned to look at him directly. One hand on the door handle. Ready to bolt if not for the fact that I'd be abandoning Stella. "Old habit? What are you, a friendly retired robber?"
    This entire conversation seemed like something out of a wicked dream. In fact, this day continued on its course of the sublimely strange.
    "Let's just say, our government trained me how to enter places quietly, and besides…I didn't break in. Your car was unlocked."
    I thought about his words. Government training? Military haircut?  
    "Well, what is it you want from me?" Getting to the point was another one of my personal superpowers.
    Another disarming grin from the secret agent man in the back seat. "It's not what I want from you. It's what you need from me."
    "Great. Riddles."
    He chuckled softly, and the sound caused a few stray bumps to emerge and salute him from my forearms. Whether the chills were from fear or attraction, I couldn't quite tell yet. But one thing was certain: I needed sleep in a serious way. A man breaks into my car, and I'm getting chills from his laughter.
    He interrupted my thoughts. "Sorry. I overheard you chatting in the café today. You found a body at Mayor Mills' house."
    I turned my upper torso around to face him. He wasn't asking a question—he was making more of a statement of fact. "You heard that?"
    He nodded. "What can you tell me about the body?"
    I swallowed. Someone actually wanted to hear my story and not make me the punch line. This was the fourth person today I'd discussed the body with, but the first person who'd made me feel at ease about it. "Why should I tell you? Who are you?"
    He seemed to ponder my question carefully and then made a move to reach behind his back. I darted for my bag and tried to locate the canister of spray. I wrapped my hand around the first oblong object I found and pulled it out—thrusting it toward him.
    "Nice bone."
    My eyes cut over to the object I was holding. One of Pickles' chewed bones. Mangled and dirty. So much for my self-defense training. If he'd been reaching for a weapon, I'd be dead by now.
    Luckily, what he'd retrieved from his back pocket was a newspaper clipping.
    I dropped the chew toy on the car seat and reached for the paper.
    He spoke in a calm, deep voice. "I think I know who the body belongs to."
     
    *  *  *
     
    I pulled up to 973 Edgewood Road just after five. I'd never been so glad to see Aunt Patty's house.
    It seemed a bit like a mirage after the day I'd had. I stepped out of the car. Blue jeans and a white tank top adorned my tired body. I could almost hear Patty telling me to eat more—fatten up, men like a little something to hold on to. The memory made my heart ache for her wit.
    My mystery man had left the article with me and told me he'd meet me for breakfast at the café. I'd told him that I had to be on duty by seven thirty, and he'd asked if six a.m. was fine. I'd agreed, but early mornings weren't my thing. Of course, there'd been a time just a few weeks ago that I'd been at the hospital doing rounds with the residents at five every morning. Only then, it had seemed important and exciting.
    My booted feet clomped up the porch steps to the kitchen door, and I pulled open the screen. Before I could get inside, I heard the door screech open next door.
    "Mandy, honey, is that you?"
    Crap on a stick.
    I'd forgotten about Ms. Lanier and her boiled buttock.
    I turned and waved. "Yes, Ms. Lanier. I'll be right over. Let me just wash up."
    "All right, then. I made camp stew. Are you hungry?"
    My ears perked up at the offering of a home-cooked meal. Unfortunately, I'd never paid much attention when it came to cooking. It wasn't the first time I'd wished I had paid more mind to the things Aunt Patty had tried to teach me. Camp stew. A mixture of