“Sure.” I bit off some biscuit, chewed, and swallowed. I wondered if Lattesta was on a diet or something. He followed my every move. I dipped into his brain. He wasn’t happy that I wasn’t wearing a bra, because my boobs distracted him. He was thinking I was a bit too curvy for his taste. He was thinking he’d better not think about me that way anymore. He was missing his wife. “I figured that would take priority over the other thing,” I said, forcing my attention back to Andy.

I couldn’t tell how much Andy knew—how much Lattesta had shared—about what had happened in Rhodes, but Andy nodded. “We think,” he said, after glancing from me to Lattesta, “that Crystal died three nights ago, sometime between one a.m. and three or four a.m.”

“Sure,” I said again.

“You knew that?” Lattesta went practically on point, like a bird dog.

“It stands to reason. There’s always someone around the bar until one or two, and then normally Terry comes in to clean the floors sometime between six and eight a.m. Terry wasn’t coming so early that day because he’d been tending bar and needed to sleep late, but most people wouldn’t think of that, right?”

“Right,” Andy said after an appreciable pause.

“So,” I said, my point made, and poured myself some more coffee.

“How well do you know Tray Dawson?” Andy asked.

That was a loaded question. The accurate answer was, “Not as well as you think.” I’d once been caught in an alley with Tray Dawson and he’d been naked, but it wasn’t what people thought. (I’d been aware they’d thought quite a bit.) “He’s been dating Amelia,” I said, which was pretty safe to say. “She’s my roommate,” I reminded Lattesta, who was looking a little blank. “You met her two days ago. She’s at work right now. And of course, Tray’s a werewolf.”

Lattesta blinked. It would take a while for him to get used to people saying that with straight faces. Andy’s own expression didn’t change.

“Right,” Andy said. “Was Amelia out with Tray the night Crystal died?”

“I don’t remember. Ask her.”

“We will. Has Tray ever said anything to you about your sister-in-law?”

“I don’t recall anything. Of course, they knew each other, at least a little bit, since they were both wereanimals.”

“How long have you known about . . . werewolves? And the other wereanimals?” Andy asked, as though he just couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, for a while,” I said. “Sam first, and then others.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” Andy asked incredulously.