“How did he know my specialty is animals?” I asked at the same time.

“Sniffed both out, probably.” Trick considered his empty beer. “Van, you better go take over for Jules. I’ll meet you both down there with a six pack, okay?”

“Yes,” Van said. “Because beer and babysitting always go well together.”

“The best!” I gave her two thumbs up. She returned them, but with much less enthusiasm.

We reconvened downstairs in Juliet’s apartment. Van bobbed her niece on her knee while I picked up toys and discarded clothes. Juliet was a very tidy person. She was also a single mother of an almost two-year-old, worked evenings at the bar—Juliet, not the child—and was in the final stages of getting her license to practice counseling. There was only so much one person could do, and children were filth wizards.

Kids could trash a tidy house in under two seconds, and I felt like Savannah was particularly skilled at this. If creating filth was an Olympic event, she’d be taking home the gold. Everything was sticky and it looked like a clothes hamper had exploded. Savannah had her fist in her mouth, babbling away as she chewed, content on her auntie’s lap. I waved one of the socks at her. “You are terrible to your mother.” I paused to blow a raspberry on her cheek. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

“They’re cute so we don’t murder and eat them,” Van said with a big smile as she made faces at her niece.

Once the clutter was picked up, I sat. It wouldn’t make any sense to do any real cleaning until Savannah was unconscious. Otherwise, she’d just trash the place again. But tidying gave me something to do while we waited for Trick, and sitting still right now was beyond me. Even though I knew the second Van put Savvy down, all of my work would be undone.

Filth. Wizard.

Trick slipped into the apartment, the promised six pack in hand. Once he’d handed us our drinks, he stashed the rest in the fridge before lowering himself into a chair. We sipped our beers, Van expertly keeping hers out of Savannah’s grasping hands, Trick sitting across from us, picking at the label on his, deep in thought.

Van pointed her beer hand at him. “Spill.”

Trick flopped back into his chair. “I’m trying to decide how much of this is my story to tell.”

“Ooooh,” Van said, cooing to her niece as she bounced her knee. “That sounds juicy.”

Trick ran a hand over his mouth. “It is, and I’m realizing how much I probably should have talked to you guys first. I owe Declan and both of you huge apologies. I was incredibly thoughtless. So, I’m sorry. I just…I guess I’ve known him so long and I’m so used to it, I didn’t think about it.”

“I’m now concerned that our new roommate is a serial killer,” I said, jokingly. I mean, Trick would never invite anyone into our home that would actually hurt us. “Are we going to be the topic of a future true crime podcast? Do I need to ask the pigeons to watch him?”