I poured maple syrup from the sticky dispenser, my thumb pressed down on the lever controlling the spout. “To do what?”

Jung leaned farther in, his chest practically touching the tabletop. “Find a murderer.”

I put the dispenser down, looked at him. “Say what now?”

It wasn’t what I expected. I mean, this was quirky, “not in the world the rest of us live in” Jung Byson. What could he possibly have to do with a murderer? I studied him for a time, convinced he was putting me on. But I noticed that his eyes weren’t as spacey as they normally were. He seemed dialed in. He was serious.

Jung started again, louder. “I said I need—”

I waved him quiet. “I’m not deaf. I heard you. Explain yourself.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “It just happened . . . well, a couple days ago . . . whatever went down. He’s dead, I know that.”

“Who’s dead?”

Jung took another deep breath, and let it out slow. “My friend drowned, and it wasn’t an accident. I don’t care what the cops say. I need you to prove it.” Jung reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, tens and twenties mostly, a few fifties, but oddly folded, like he’d gotten them dancing for tips in a strip joint. “I’ve never hired a PI before. I can get more if this isn’t enough.”

I stared at the money, then at the confused look on Jung’s face as he shoved the bills into the center of the table next to Deek’s cheap salt and pepper shakers. “He was killed, and no one believes me. You know the spot I’m in. The priest?”

He caught me off guard and I drew back. The priest. He meant Pop. The image of his dead body flashed in my head, and my breath caught. I’d noticed his shoe first, sticking out of the confessional. I pushed back against the memory now, against the familiar ache of loss.... I could tell Jung hadn’t meant to plunge me back into the depths of grief, but the closer I looked, the more I could see a familiar pain crushing down on him like pressing stones. Yes, I knew how that felt. I leaned back and shoved my plate aside, breakfast now the furthest thing from my mind. “Go on. I’m listening.”

Chapter 3

Chapter 3