“Mysteriouser and mysteriouser.” Carefully, she took the object out of the bag and set it on the counter below. I inched closer and stood on my tiptoes to watch the unwrapping process. “Okay,” she said, hunting through the layers of fleece blanket, “there’s a cord and a plug, so it’s something that uses electricity . . . and I can feel it’s plastic . . . and there’s a switch and it’s . . .”

She freed it from the blanket. “It’s a . . . light?”

I grinned. “Yes, indeed. A very special kind of light. One that fends off seasonal affective disorder. You know, SAD? I get it, especially after the time change in the fall, so I always eat breakfast with this little gem shining its light on me.”

“Uh, thanks?”

My grin continued unabated. “You’re not convinced. I get that, I really do. But try it. Half an hour a day. Seems silly, I know, but . . . please, just try it for a week.”

“For a week?” Chelsea looked at it dubiously. “You mean, every day?”

“What do you have to lose?”

“I suppose it can’t hurt,” she said.

“There you go.” I beamed. “And if you want to keep it for two weeks, we can work out a custody arrangement.”

She laughed, and it sounded almost like a real live laugh, not one of those fake ones. “Okay, I’ll try it. But only because I can tell you’re not going to take no for an answer.”

“My aunt gave me this for Christmas the first winter I moved north,” I said. “I put it in my closet and made excuses for not using it. She finally snuck into my bedroom one morning when I was in the shower and turned it on at breakfast. It was . . .” I smiled, remembering. “Never mind. I don’t want to oversell. But like you said, it can’t hurt. And if it helps?” I lifted one shoulder.

“All right.” She reswaddled the light in the blanket. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll try it.”

“Good.” I turned to go, then came back. “Say, any news on finding who killed Pug Mattock? Or who stole the Valeras’ family sculpture?”

“You need to talk to Detective Inwood about that, Minnie. I’m just the office manager.”

I gave her a fierce look. “Do not say ‘just’ the office manager. Do not say ‘only’ the office manager. You are worth your weight in gold and if these guys don’t know it, they need to learn it fast.”

“Oh, I know.”

I glanced up at the new voice. “Sheriff Richardson,” I said, nodding. “Good to see you.”

“Morning, Sheriff, ma’am,” Chelsea said, her shoulders suddenly squared.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Ms. Hamilton.” Sheriff Kit Richardson leaned against the now-open doorway. “How’s Eddie?”