“Hey.” The sole human in the place, a man about my age standing behind the counter and poking at a computer, nodded at us. “How’s it going?”

Tabitha glanced around and said, as she often did, exactly what she was thinking. “I thought this place would be busy on a Saturday.”

We’d actually hoped for that. Our plan had been to ease into what we’d assumed would be a crowded retail space, split up, eavesdrop on multiple conversations, and, in a friendly manner, ask questions that were pointed but not overly intrusive. It had been an excellent plan, but now we had to go to Plan B. Which we hadn’t developed at all.

Before Tabitha could make the situation even more awkward, I jumped in with introductions that were true, though incomplete. “Minnie Hamilton,” I said, holding out my hand. “I work at the library. And this is Tabitha. My aunt.”

“Cody Sisk,” he said, as we shook hands over the counter. “Owner, mechanic, sales, janitor, bookkeeper, and HR director of Paddles & Pedals.”

Tabitha laughed. “A man of many hats.”

He glanced at a nearby rack of helmets. “Some fit better than others, but yeah.”

There was nothing like an on-the-fly metaphor to incline me toward instant friendship. I beamed at Cody, who, if my life’s path had sent me in his direction a few years ago, I might well have considered dating. His smile was natural and his expression of genial interest was appealing. He was also slim and fit and had the weathered look of someone who spent a fair amount of time outside, which made sense for the owner of a bike shop.

All in all, I was already feeling guilty about asking him questions that might not be in his best interest. But I forced myself to think about the greater good and the reality that two people had been murdered. And that the killer was still out there, somewhere.

“My aunt here,” I said, tipping my head at Tabitha, “has been thinking about getting into biking, but with what’s been going on, now she’s not so sure.”

Cody frowned. “‘What’s been going on’? Not sure what you mean.”

“Oh, you must have heard!” Tabitha clasped her hands together, gripping her fingers tight enough to leave white marks in her skin. “Those people, dying like that. It makes me scared to think about getting on a bike! What if I’m next?”

I gave Cody an apologetic glance that I’d brought my slightly wacky, overly emotional aunt into his store. “We heard about the murders of Brown Bernier and Emily Acosta. And that they were both into bicycling. It’s understandable”—sort of—“that my aunt is a little concerned.”

“Sure, I get it.” Cody nodded. “It’s horrible how both of them were killed. And my recommendation is to always bike with at least one other person. The buddy system, like in scuba diving.”