Diesel yawned as he gazed at me reproachfully for disturbing him. He stretched in a graceful, languorous movement before he climbed off our laps.

“You could stay here tonight.” Helen Louise smiled shyly.

I was truly tempted. Helen Louise had never looked more lovely, but now was not the time to move our relationship into a more intimate phase. I think she realized that, too, as I gently declined.

She escorted us to the door, and we shared a satisfying kiss before Diesel and I headed home. “Talk to you tomorrow. Sleep well.”

“Good night. You sleep well, too.”

I felt like whistling as we walked, but I’ve never been able to carry much of a tune. Instead I smiled a lot.

As Diesel and I neared our house an unfamiliar car pulled up to the sidewalk ahead of us. I slowed my pace and kept a wary eye on it as the driver’s door opened and a dark figure stepped out.

The moment she turned to face me I recognized Kanesha Berry, and I relaxed.

“Good evening, Mr. Harris. You two out for a stroll? Seems a little chilly for it.” She stepped onto the sidewalk a few feet away as I paused.

“Coming home from dinner with a friend.”

I heard the faintest trace of humor in her voice as she replied, “And I reckon the cat was invited, too.”

“Naturally,” I said. I gestured toward the house. “Won’t you come in? I’m assuming that you’re here to talk to me.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry I couldn’t call you back sooner, but we had a couple of emergencies to deal with.” She preceded me up the walk to the front door. “I was on my way home and thought I’d stop by on the off chance you had a moment to talk.”

“You’re always welcome,” I said as I inserted my key in the lock. Diesel chirped at her, but she was still wary of him. She had her mother’s mistrust of cats, but I think Diesel was gradually winning her over.

“Come on in the kitchen. Can I offer you something to drink?”

“No, thanks, I’m fine,” she said. “I won’t keep you long, just wanted to follow up on the message you left me. Plus I have a bit of news for you.” She took the chair I pulled out for her, and I sat down across from her. Diesel padded off into the utility room.

“You go first,” I said.

She shrugged. “Okay. I managed to get hold of one important piece of information about Vera Cassity’s death from a source I have. It was definitely murder because she didn’t fall. She had two big bruises on her back. Looks like the killer hit her pretty hard to knock her down the stairs. The rest of the bruising could be accounted for by the fall, but not the ones on her back, because of the way she fell forward.”

I felt sick at my stomach. I had seen the body on the stairs—only dimly because of the poor light—but it had a certain air of unreality about it.