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melted Swiss cheese, and brown mustard—and then suddenly I realized how hungry I was. Marco ordered two microbrewed beers for us, so before we started on our food, he clinked his bottle to mine and said, “To Dave’s safe return.” We drank to that, and then Marco picked up his hamburger.
    “Don’t we have something else to celebrate?” I asked.
    Marco paused, his burger almost to his mouth. Then he put it down, sat back, and scratched his nose, as though slightly embarrassed. “There’s been a slight delay, so let’s celebrate tomorrow night instead.”
    “Okay. Tomorrow night.” I took a bite of sandwich, chewed and swallowed. “So, what caused the delay?”
    “I’ll tell you tomorrow night. How was your day?”
    He was evading my question, but I decided he must have a surprise up his sleeve, so I dropped the topic. Over dinner, I told him about my mom’s tee cart, Tara’s new career, and the Cody signing event that had been canceled.
    As we were finishing our meal, Martha called on my cell phone. “Abby,” she said, “Dave is home. I just spoke with Peg. Apparently he stopped to visit his mother in the nursing home and his cell phone doesn’t always work there.”
    I gave Marco a thumbs-up. “Wonderful! Did he say how his meeting went?”
    “I didn’t speak with him,” Martha said. “Peg said he walked in the door, told her he’d fill her in later, and went to take a shower.”
    “I’ll call him at work tomorrow, then. Thanks for letting me know.” I put my phone in my purse, feeling extremely relieved. Dave was fine. Nothing bad had happened.
     
     
    A mosquito was buzzing around my head. I kept swatting it, but the pesky bug kept coming back. I finally felt it land and smacked my forehead to kill it. The pain woke me. I sat up and realized it wasn’t a mosquito at all, but my cell phone vibrating on my dresser. Simon, Nikki’s white cat, was perched behind it, tail curled around his lean body, watching the phone jiggle across the wood surface. He gave it a push with his paw, then watched as it fell to the carpet.
    “Simon!”
    He glanced at me in that innocent way all cats have, as though to say, What? It was headed in that direction, anyway.
    As I scrambled for the phone, I glanced at my clock. Six thirty in the morning. Time for me to get up. I saw Marco’s name on my caller ID, which surprised me, since he’d had another late night of surveillance work. I wasn’t expecting to hear from him until ten o’clock or later. “Marco?”
    “Hey, Sunshine.” His voice sounded tired, but also tight. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
    “Not a problem. What’s up?”
    “Your gut feeling was right. Something happened last night.”
    My stomach knotted. My instincts were rarely wrong. “Is it Dave? Is he okay?”
    “Dave’s fine, but Ken Lipinski is dead.”
    “What!”
    “The cause of death is unknown at this point. A secretary at his office discovered him first thing this morning slumped over his desk. She called an ambulance, but by then he’d been dead for several hours. The autopsy is scheduled for nine o’clock this morning. Then we’ll know more.”
    Unbidden, my mind leaped to a horrible thought that Dave had gotten so angry he’d choked Lipinski. But no, that was impossible. Dave wasn’t a violent person. I felt guilty for even thinking it. “Let me know what you hear, okay?”
    “Will do.” Marco yawned. “I’m going to try to get a few more hours of sleep. I’ll talk to you later.”
    It wasn’t the best way to start my day, and it didn’t get any better when I found news crews parked all around the square, including in front of Bloomers, taking up valuable customer spaces. Reporters were interviewing passersby while they waited for a press conference that was scheduled for later that morning.
    “Abby, wait up!” Connor McKay called.
    I pulled my coat tighter against the brisk spring wind as he jogged toward me from the courthouse lawn. He had on a tan