My eyes narrowed. Since when did Weber and my ex-partner start hanging out together? And why was I the topic of conversation when they did? Weber chuckled, but the eyes, more chestnut than true brown, clamped on and wouldn’t let up. What was he trying to do, take an X-ray? I checked my watch, feeling my face flush.

He grinned. “Relax. I asked him how you were. He told me to ask for myself. So this is me asking.”

I was relaxed. Didn’t I look relaxed? I shot Weber a look. Who’d he think he was impressing? “Yeah, okay. Well, it’s been a slice . . .” I turned to break it off. I had stuff to do.

“What’s going on with the bike kid? Don’t tell me you’re working for him.”

“He’s the delivery guy here, and I’m not.” I glanced surreptitiously at his ring finger. When I found nothing on it, I took a second to let that register. The last time I’d seen Weber, he said he was separated, and I’d given him the widest berth a human person could give another. Now the ring was gone. There was only a faint band of lighter skin where it used to be.

“Do you know anything about the drowning at DuSable Marina a couple days ago?” I asked. “Timothy Ayers?”

Weber folded his arms across his chest. “Rich kid. Too much alcohol, not enough common sense. Accidental. What about it?”

“He was a friend of the bike kid’s. He thinks someone may have killed him. He wants me to find out who.”

Weber laughed, then figured out I was serious and stopped. “And you turned him down. That’s why he lit out?”

“I don’t think I’d be any use to him.”

“You’re right. You’d be spinning your wheels. The kid was tanked. He either slipped or jumped, either way nothing says he had help doing it.”

“Who was lead on it?” That information hadn’t been in the papers.

Weber’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said you couldn’t help?”

“I’m just curious.”

The slight grin he gave me told me he didn’t believe me. He slid his hands into his pockets, cocked his head. “Marta Pena.”

I knew Marta. She was good. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

We stood there and watched the street traffic whiz by.

“Where’s your wedding ring?”

Weber’s brows lifted. “Just like that?”

I didn’t answer.

“I told you I was separated.”

“Men say that all the time.”

“In my case, it was true. Divorce came through six weeks ago. The ring’s in a box in my sock drawer, if you want to see it.”

I said nothing, but I was thinking a whole lot of things.