Mummy Said Goodbye. Janice Johnson Kay

      His decent mood suffered a jolt when he was half a block from home. A blue sedan sat at the curb in front of his house. No rack of lights or insignia on the door, but he knew a police car when he saw one. Two people sat in this one.

      Waiting.

      Craig drove past them without turning his head. He went straight into the garage and closed the door behind him, popped the trunk and unloaded his groceries. He was grimly putting them away when the doorbell rang.

      He knew better than to ignore it. An innocent man cooperated. Welcomed an investigation.

      On the doorstep were a man and a woman he didn’t know. The man looked Hispanic, with dark hair and the age-old eyes cops sometimes had. Craig’s fleeting impression of the woman was that she had to be a good deal younger. Short and big-breasted, she wore dark hair in a bun so severe she’d never need Botox. Not flattering. Neither was a mannish outfit of blazer, slacks and white button-down shirt that made her look stocky.