“Because that would be dumb, Pax.”

“You know what’s dumb, Carmondy?” Her voice was rising again. “Your cop knock.”

“Cop knock?” He examined his meaty fist. “I do not have a cop knock.”

“Yes, you do. It’s more cop-knocky than a regular cop’s knock. It’s like you slammed an entire ham against the door multiple times.”

Giving a dramatic gasp, he held his fist to his chest. “That’s so not true. A ham hitting the door would make a wet, fleshy sound.” His dimple flashed.

She threw up her hands, even as she made sure to keep her voice low. “Sonny probably took off through a back window when he heard that cop knock of yours.”

“Back window?” Dropping his melodramatic posture, he cocked his head with true interest. “Why not the back door?”

“There is no back door.”

“How do you know that?” There was no doubt in his tone, just curiosity, and it gave Molly a warm, mushy feeling inside to know that he trusted that she was right.

“Norah found the house floor plan online. The landlord posted them when he was advertising the place before Mother Tick rented it.”

“Huh. When did you talk to Norah?”

“I texted her while you were in the shower.” The door cracked open, and Molly prepared to chase if it was Sonny and he decided to run, but the person standing on the other side of the small opening was a woman in her fifties who, from what Molly could tell, did not look inclined toward sprinting. “Hello!”

“Can I help you?” The woman seemed a little suspicious, but not immediately hostile. Molly could work with that.

She widened her smile and gave her words a breathy, bubbly quality. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m Molly, and this is my husband, John. We’re from Denver, but we’re thinking about buying that church, and I wanted to get the opinion of someone who was really part of the neighborhood, you know?”

The woman—Mother Tick, Molly assumed—blinked several times, even as she opened the door a little wider.

“We just have a few questions about the area and the people… Would you mind?” Molly took a step closer, and Mother Tick fell back a step, swinging the door wider.

“Why would you buy that mess?” the woman asked, waving toward the dilapidated, vacant church.

“My husband’s a pastor, you see, and we both love projects.” Molly felt John’s fingers twitch when she assigned him his new career. “The building is actually wonderful, and so full of history. The structure is solid; it just needs a coat of paint or two.”

All three of them looked at the boarded-up church, which appeared to be leaning to the side.

“Anyway!” Molly said quickly in a bright voice. “What do you say? Could we ask you a few questions? It won’t take long at all, and it’ll help us so much with our decision.”

From the way Mother Tick’s mouth drew down at the corners as she studied them dubiously, Molly was sure that plan two was a bust. They were about to get the door slammed in their faces, and she knew that John would insist on trying half-assed plan four and a half next.