My voice came out louder than I’d intended and Kristen looked at me, speculation writ large on her face. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Isn’t that the guy the police are looking for? Because they think he robbed a bank and killed that guy?”

I put my spoon down. “The police can be wrong. It’s been known to happen.”

“Fair enough.” Kristen nodded. “I’ve heard the name, but I don’t know him. I think one of my sous-chefs does, though.”

“Can you send him a text? About Ryan?”

She shrugged. “Sure, but he’s working in Utah, finishing up the ski season, and he might not pay attention to a text from me until the end of April. I told him he didn’t have to be here until May first.”

Kristen had a solid core of loyal staff. She browbeat them for months, worked them mercilessly—and they loved her. Sure, she paid them well, but the reason they kept coming back and coming back was that she loved them, too. Even if how she showed it was through commands shouted at the top of her lungs.

“But you could try?” I persisted.

“What exactly do you want me to ask? If Ryan Anderson thumped Mr. Plum over the head with a candlestick in the drawing room?”

I returned to my last bite of custardy goodness. “Pretty sure that’s a reference to some board game I’ve never played.”

“Duh.” She elbowed me lightly. “For someone who’s smart, you’re pretty dumb sometimes. But I mean it. What should I ask my guy in Utah? Because I can see you’re shifting into investigative mode, even though there are professional law enforcement officers working on this.”

“They can get things wrong,” I said. “And as for what you should ask him . . . oh, I don’t know.” I sighed.

“Hey, don’t go all sad on me.” Kristen elbowed me again. “This is Sunday night. Pathetic sighs are not allowed. What we need,” she said firmly, “is a plan. So that’s what we’re going to do.”

“We?” I echoed. “But you’re . . . really pregnant. And I’m already working on a plan.” Hadn’t gotten very far, but I’d started. In my head.

“Of course, ‘we.’ ” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t think I’d let you do this by yourself, do you? Because you obviously need help.”

“Is this what friends are for?” I asked, my eyes suddenly blinking with moisture.

“Duh,” she said again.

And, after I surreptitiously wiped my eyes, we got to work. The two of us together would surely come up with something.

*   *   *

Rafe opened our front door as I hurried up the porch steps. “About time you got home,” he said. “I was going to start without you.”