This place. It’s a bookstore, you idiot. He already knew I was the owner. “Yes. This place is called Evie’s Books, Cake, and Tea. I am Evie.” Too bad I didn’t get a premonition about him. I don’t get premonitions for the vast majority of people I meet, but it would be nice to see him working at a cat litter factory instead of staying here.

He stood there, staring down at me, and I met his gaze. I didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped for a second to my breasts yet again, the creep. He was gross. Skin crawly gross. It was a power thing with him, and it was likely he didn’t like women, particularly women who didn’t cater to him or who made him feel threatened in any teeny-tiny way.

“How long have you had this place? How long have you lived here on the island with your husband?” He looked at the third finger of my left hand.

“I feel like I’m being interviewed.” I didn’t smile.

“You’re not being interviewed. I need to know about the shop owners, about the people who live here, as I’m here to protect you.”

“We’re a mellow lot. There will not be much protecting to do.” I deliberately did not answer his question. “How is Chief Allroy doing?” I knew exactly how the chief was doing. He was staying with his daughter and son-in-law in Seattle. I had gone to school with his daughter, Packy, real name Patricia, and had talked to her this morning.

He garumphed. “He is making progress, but he will be out for a while to rehabilitate. His age being a factor.”

I laughed. The chief was only sixty-five. Give me a break. “Chief Allroy is in excellent shape. He runs five miles a day. He sails his boat. He chops wood.” I let my eyes drift to his gut, then back up. He saw it.

“I noticed you didn’t answer my questions,” he said.

“I noticed that I am not required to answer your questions,” I said.

His face tightened. He didn’t like that. He liked to be obeyed. “I’ve heard things about you.”

“I’ve heard things about you, too.”

He seemed surprised, displeased. Who was this woman talking back to him? Where was the fear? The respect? Where was the ego-stroking? I bet the women on the police force in Seattle couldn’t stand him.

“If you’ll excuse me?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. I smiled at the couple behind him, waiting to pay. They had a stack of books. “Welcome!” I said, putting their books on the counter right in front of the fleshy chief, who was then forced to move his heaving gut.