“They looked like cops. Probably just taking a shortcut.”

“I guess I’m being silly, huh? Worrying about nothing.”

He kissed her on the nose. “Everything’s going smoothly.”

Kate cocked her head. “Was that a gunshot?”

He lowered his mouth to hers. She’d said she loved him. Sort of a strange admission of love, but he’d take it. “Want to tell me again that you love me?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and the crutches clattered to the floor.

“What was that?” Elsie yelled. “Something break in there? That wasn’t more gunshots, was it?”

“Kate accidentally dropped her crutches,” Dave called, kissing Kate again. “I’m not up to another notch on your cast, but it would be nice to cuddle. Maybe we could tell everyone to leave.”

Kate wanted to cuddle, too, but she didn’t think asking her father to leave without supper was a good idea. “I think it would be wise to feed them first.” She stiffened in his arms. “Do you hear police sirens?”

“Probably some cop late for dinner.”

“On our street? We don’t have any cops living on our street.” Her voice had risen to a pitch just short of a dog whistle. “Give me my crutches!”

Howie came bounding down the stairs three at a time and passed Dave on a run. “We need the bullhorn from the car! We need the tear gas!”

Dave stood at the open back door. “Couldn’t you wait until after dinner?” he asked hopefully.

Howie returned with his arms full. He stopped in the middle of the kitchen and sniffed. “Oh, man, that chicken smells great. You have stuffing?”

“Yeah,” Dave said, opening the oven door. “Looks good, huh?”

“You going to make gravy?”

“Sure. You have to have gravy with chicken and mashed potatoes.”

Slik shouted from the top of the stairs. “Howie, you got the stuff? Would you hurry it up down there?”

Howie swore under his breath. “Sometimes this job’s a pain in the butt.”

Kate felt as if she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. Howie Berk was counting his tear gas canisters while he discussed gravy with Dave, and her mother and Elsie were sitting side by side in the living room, getting skunked on sherry, speculating on the size of Slik’s gun. Kate thumped her way into the living room and tried to look calm. “How’s it going?” she asked. “Anybody need more wine?”

Elsie and Grace Finn held out their glasses.

“Looks to me like we got a drug bust going,” Elsie said. “Looks to me like we got feds upstairs.” She patted her purse. “Good thing I brought my hanky with me.”

Dave refilled Elsie’s glass. “You so much as touch your hanky, and I swear I’ll beat you senseless with Kate’s crutch.”

“Hah!” Elsie said. “You and who else?”