saw Ivy standing on the sidewalk near the burned house, body tense and rigid. It filled him with a desperate desire to lift away her fear, some way, any way. When she didn’t hear him speak, he put a hand on her shoulder.
Whirling, she lost her balance and he caught her.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. What brings you here? What’s wrong?”
She leaned her head against his chest for a moment. Then she straightened. “Nothing. I’m fine. I was just…I don’t know.”
“Remembering?”
“Oh, never mind. How did you find me?”
“I figured it wouldn’t take too long before you defied the doctor’s orders and drove somewhere. I kind of guessed you’d be back here.”
She filled him in on Doug Chee’s revelation.
He whistled. “So the door was wedged closed? Kinda shoots down the notion that Cyril torched the place for the insurance money. Somebody went to a lot of trouble to try to kill the guy.”
“Or Cyril tried to kill someone and make it look like something else.”
“Either way, something didn’t go right for somebody.” He gave her a sideways look. “I take it you’re not going to leave this up to Chee and the police?”
“No. I did talk to the police this morning, though, because some jerk tried to steal my purse last night.”
His mouth dropped open. “After the game? What happened? Are you hurt?”
She related the whole story, except the part when Antonio asked her to go hiking with him. At the mention of Antonio’s name, Tim’s brow furrowed and a dark expression crossed his face.
“Good thing Antonio was there,” he said in clipped tones.
“Yeah. Anyway, I figured I’d look into a few things, that’s all. While I’m off, I mean.”
He smiled. “Well, how about I take you out for some ice cream and we can talk some more?”
“You don’t have to entertain me.”
“Believe it or not, I like hanging out with you. Usually you’re surrounded by people wearing Nomex, and I can’t get close unless I happen to be on fire or something.” The bitter thought rose before he could stop it. Even with Antonio gone, you’re still out of reach. He squelched the thought and opened the passenger-side door. “I’ll drive.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he propelled her into the seat.
On the way to the ice-cream shop, Ivy asked Tim to stop at Corner Street Bookstore. “I’ve got to ask Mr. Evans about Cyril. Madge said Cyril worked at the bookstore.”
The bookstore owner, Sergei Evans, greeted them with a smile. “Good afternoon.”
The shop featured wooden shelves crammed full of books of every description and a long ladder that rolled between them. There was a small section with new bestsellers, but most of the volumes were older, with an occasional antique sprinkled in.
“Hello, Mr. Evans,” Tim said.
The man piled his papers in a tidy stack next to the cash register and came around the counter. “Hello. Can I help you find a book?” He looked at Ivy closely as he slipped on wire-rimmed glasses. “I would say you are not the kind who would like to read about needlework or floral arranging.”
“You got that right on the money,” Tim said as he thumbed through a sports magazine. “The only needles she uses are the kind to administer an IV.”
Tim smiled at the look Ivy shot him as they followed Mr. Evans around the small shop.
He pulled a book off a high shelf and handed it to Ivy. “Perhaps a memoir by a blind man who climbed Mt. Everest?”
She took the book and read the back. “That’s interesting, but…”
He handed down another. “And maybe a story of Peary’s expedition to the North Pole?”
“That sounds great, Mr. Evans, but that’s not why we’re here,” Tim repeated. “Do you happen to know a man named Cyril?”
“Cyril?” He frowned. “A short man, rather fragile-looking?”
Tim nodded, his pulse quickening. The image matched the description Madge had given them.
“He asked me for a job several months back, but I couldn’t accommodate him. Why?”
“He’s a friend of a friend. We were told he worked here.”
“No, I didn’t hire him. I had no contact with him after that one encounter.”
Tim hid his disappointment. “Okay. Thanks anyway.”
Ivy paid for her purchases and they left the cool of the bookstore, practically running into Mitch. He jerked backward.
“Oh, hi, guys.”
“Hey, Mitch.” Tim noted the weary lines painted on his wide face and felt a tingle of alarm. “Did you have a rough shift? You look beat.”
“Shift? No. I’m off for a few days.”
Ivy clicked her tongue. “Taking time off isn’t going to get you closer to that boat you’re after. You need all the overtime you can get.”
His brow furrowed. “Who made you my mother?”
Tim blinked at Mitch’s tone. “Easy, man. She was just teasing.”
He gave a half laugh. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”
“How about we all three go get some ice cream?” Tim gestured to Ivy. “We’ve gotta keep this girl out of trouble.”
“No, I can’t.” Mitch said. “I’ve gotta run.”
Tim tried to read his expression, to see if he was telling the truth, hating the suspicion that clouded his mind. He wished he wasn’t burdened by knowing Mitch’s secret. “Where are you headed?”
“Me?” He looked momentarily disoriented. “Oh, just out for a jog. Catch you later.”
Tim and Ivy walked the rest of the block and ordered ice-cream sundaes, settling at a table by the window to enjoy their treat.
He watched her dive into the sundae, her face as eager as a little girl’s. The image tugged at his insides.
Ivy took a spoonful of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. “Do you think Mitch is acting funny?”
“Maybe.” Tim tried to focus on his black-and-tan sundae, willing her not to ask him anything else. Above all things, he did not want to lie to Ivy.
“Maybe?” She looked closer at him. “Tim? Do you have some idea of what’s bothering
