“And you didn’t recognize him from his stay?” Mia asked Greg after declining several offers of cookies, tea, ice cream, and, inexplicably, fish. So far, the interrogation had proven mostly useless, a repetition of what they’d already been told.

“Not enough to place a name to the face,” Greg said. “He looked familiar, right?”

“Yup.” Brandon nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. “Familiar.”

“But, like I said, just one of those visiting types.” Greg leaned forward a little, the skin around his eyes crinkling with an inside joke. “You know those artists.”

Mia straightened. “He wasn’t an artist.”

Greg leaned back. “Oh,” he said, glancing at Brandon, who was watching Mia. “My mistake. I just assumed.”

“He was a reporter,” Mia said, slowly. But Greg just nodded, accepting it without protest.

“We’ve been gone for a few long stretches in recent months.” Greg shrugged. “Don’t even get to church as often as I’d like to, if I’m being honest.”

Izzy wasn’t sure what that had to do with the dead reporter, but Mia hummed like it meant something.

“And you called Sammy right away? When you found the body.”

“Mainland cops first, right?” Greg looked at Brandon for confirmation.

“Yup.” The boy’s eyes were dark and flinty.

“Then Sammy,” Greg continued, his hands relaxed, resting on his belly. “He took it from there.”

“Did anyone else see or handle the body?” Izzy asked.

Greg smacked his lips. “Can’t say they did. But can’t swear against it, either.”

Mia smiled her thanks as she stood up, and Izzy followed. “If you think of anything else . . .”

“We’ll be sure to tell you ladies.” Greg huffed to his feet. “Won’t we, Brandon?”

There was enough of a nudge in his voice that Izzy stopped, then glanced between the two.

Brandon shuffled back, shoulders rounded and protective. “It’s nothing.”

“Sometimes what seems like nothing can actually help us solve the case,” Mia said gently, and Izzy could almost see the Thanks, Sherlock sitting in the twist of his lips.

“Listen, it’s not a big deal,” Brandon said, Greg watching him patiently. “When we were leaving the doc’s place, though.”

“Yes?” Mia prompted.

“He . . . He called someone.” Brandon shrugged. “Didn’t say a name. Didn’t even overhear anything really. I only even know about it because I had stopped to tie my shoe.”

“Sammy told the person about the body?” Izzy clarified.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Brandon said, his arms coming up again to cross over his chest. “Like I said, it’s nothing.”

The downward slant of his jaw, his rounded shoulders, his eyes on the floor—he wasn’t giving them anything else. Mia apparently read it, too, because she stood without protest.

“Okay, thank you, Brandon,” Mia said, and left her card with Greg. “Anything else, no matter how small.”