I'd already learned this from Claudel, but let him go on.

"I let you think they were big-ass bikers to make myself look cool. Instead I almost got you kil ed."

"Kit, who was the man outside my condo?"

"I real y, honestly don't know He was probably some goof just passing by." A grin teased the corners of his mouth. "Maybe he was applying for a job at the place that cut your hair."

I gently punched his good shoulder. This time I believed him.

"Hey, careful with the rough stuff. I'm an invalid."

He took a sip of juice and handed me the glass.

"What about that eyebal ?"

"The police think the Vipers put it on my car to discourage further interest in their history."

A pause. On-screen, a man mouthed the news while stock prices ticked by below

"I think I'm going to look into school when I get back home. Try a few courses. See how it goes."

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Kit."

"You must think I'm about as dumb as a largemouth bass."

"Maybe a perch."

"I hope you don't give up on me."

"Never."

Embarrassed, he changed the subject.

"How's your boss?"

"Much better. He's starting to give the nurses a hard time."

"I'm with him there. And Ryan?"

"Don't push it, fish brain."

"How long do you think he'l be moonin' around here, expecting flowers and caramel clusters?" Harry stood in the doorway, a smile on her lips, a vase in her hand. Both were the same geranium red.

Leaving the hospital, I drove home, had dinner with Birdie, and began a series of household tasks. A return to normalcy by immersion in the mundane.

That was the plan and it was working.

Until the doorbel chirped.

Dumping an armload of dirty sweaters, I glanced at my watch. Eight-fifteen. Too early for Harry.

Curious, I went to check the security screen.

What the hel ?

Sergeant-Detective Luc Claudel stood in my vestibule, hands clasped behind his back, weight shifting from the heels to the bal s of his feet.

"So much for normalcy," I muttered as I buzzed him in.

"Bonsoir, Monsieur Claudel."

"Bonsoir. I apologize for disturbing you at your home, but there has been a development." His jaw tensed, as though what he had to say was pushing him to the limits of civility. "I thought that you should know"

Courtesy from Claudel? In English? What now?

Birdie did a figure eight around my ankles, but offered no conjecture.

I stepped back and gestured the detective inside. He entered and waited stiffly as I closed the door, then fol owed me to the living room sofa. Settling into the armchair opposite, I remembered my conversation with Ryan's partner, Jean Bertrand, and the thought of Ryan brought the usual stomach clutch.

God, please let him be safe!

I pushed the thought aside and waited for Claudel to speak.

He cleared his throat and looked away from me.