We talk a little more and learn that she’s a lawyer for a downtown firm, and he’s a waiter at a tony restaurant that I’m sure is a far cry from the Mill Wood, our best Shelton eatery.

“Headwaiter,” Kristen says.

I nod. I see the distinction, and even more so, I see Kristen’s need to shore up her husband’s career. I know that my partner will make some snide comment when they leave.

“You arrived early this morning,” I say. “About what time?”

“That’s right,” Kristen says. “We couldn’t make it earlier on Friday. Too many things going on, so we left at ten p.m. Arrived at the cabin well after midnight. Honestly, I’m not sure of the exact time.”

“I was beat,” Connor interjects. “I can’t say for sure what time we got there. I crashed immediately. Zonked out.”

Kristen gives her husband an annoyed look. “We both have demanding jobs, and yeah, you crashed hard.”

“Did you notice anything unusual at the cabins?” Montrose asks. “You go there all the time, right?”

Connor answers. “Been there, yes. All about the same. Same octopus art on the walls. Same beach.”

“Did you see or talk to the occupants of either cabin?” Montrose goes on.

Kristen takes this one. “I did. Connor slept most of the morning. I chatted with the lady next door a little. She seemed sweet. Had her hands full with those kids.”

“So, Connor,” I say, “you were there all morning? I thought you were both out on a hike or something.”

Connor rubs the back of his head.

“I get migraines,” he says. “I took some meds and was literally out like a light. Kris went out alone.”

She gives her husband a look. “It’s been happening more and more. I tell him to go see another specialist, but what do I know? I only practice law. Not medicine.”

And there you have it. Kristen Moss is one of those lawyers who find a way to work their job into every conversation.

“Where did you go?” I ask Kristen.

“Where didn’t I go?” she answers with a question. “I drove over to Cushman and hiked around part of the lake. Probably got too much sun. Nothing major, though. I use copious amounts of sunscreen.”

“What about you, Connor?”

“Put on my noise-canceling headphones and slept. I was sick. Too much to drink the night before. Migraine today. That’s about it.”

“Did you hear anything?” Montrose asks.

“No,” he says. “Headphones are top of the line.”

Of course they are, I think.

Kristen pushes back from the table and gives her husband a look so that he’ll follow suit. He does. She slides her business card in my direction.

“Connor’s cell number is on the back side if you need to reach him. I’ve also included my private line at the firm.”

Did she mention she was a lawyer?

“Well,” Montrose says, “that was a big nothing burger.”