In the kitchen, Lucy planted her fists on her narrow hips. “Go ahead, Sherlock. Tell me what a rotten little brat I am for yelling at my elders.”

“Actually, I was gonna say the exact opposite,” I said, feeling myself smile. “I’m actually kind of proud of you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I said. “I mean, yeah, sure, you could bring the volume down a notch, but it shows me you’ve finally got some personal investment here. You don’t get mad like that at people you don’t care about.”

Lucy leaned against the refrigerator. “The old broads didn’t have to take me back in. They been real good to me. Like—like moms doin’ whatever work my mom left behind, if that makes any sense.”

“Perfect sense,” I said.

Lucy had boarded with Carmela and Sylvia a while back. After an especially traumatizing experience at a Detroit River freighter service pier, Lucy had decided to revisit her Upper Peninsula roots. She’d hoped kneeling by her mother’s graveside would provide the guidance and wisdom she so desperately needed to know her place in an often confusing world.

Only the quiet, lonely expanse of Upper Peninsula wilderness persisted.

And then there was the question of a certain retired and dogged sheriff’s deputy with damaged pride and one testicle who had an outstanding score to settle with her . . .

Carmela and Sylvia had welcomed Lucy back with opened arms.

“The girls just make me so fucking mad sometimes!” After a moment, Lucy gave me a glance and said, “Sorry about the yelling.”

“Welcome home, kiddo.”

“Oh, don’t get all mushy on me, Sherlock,” she said, pushing past me. I followed her back into the living room. “You ladies want an outing? I’ll give you an outing! I’m making doctor’s appointments for both of you, and there’s no way you’re wiggling out of ’em. You behave, I’ll buy ya lunch. You don’t and I’ll have you committed to an old folks’ home—or worse, have your kids take you in.”

“Oh, Jesus Lord, Madre María!” Carmela said.

“What if—” Sylvia began meekly. “What if—the doctor says I need a hip replacement?”

“Then you get a freakin’ hip replacement!” Lucy said. “They actually make spare parts for humans these days.”

“Okay, ladies, I’m heading home,” I said. “But for the love of God, the apostles and all the saints—let’s put a cap on the shouting for today, okay? Dogs eight blocks away are starting to complain.”

Sylvia leaned into Carmela and whispered, “Wha’d he say?”

“Get ’em to an audiologist, too,” I said to Lucy.

“No shit, Sherlock,” she said. She pushed me toward the door. “Go! You’re done here, dude.”

6

6

First snow of the season.