Could be. All I knew about cars was that I had to put gas in mine every so often to make it go—and take it to my mechanic friend Darren every once in a while. Though this was something I often forgot to do for my own vehicle, the bookmobile followed a rigorous maintenance schedule. Why I was willing to do that for the library’s vehicle but not my own I wasn’t sure. But then again, now that I was engaged and about to be married, maybe I could get Rafe to take over car maintenance. I made a mental note to bring that up soon.

“Pug and his wife, Sylvia, didn’t have any children,” I said, “but there’s a large extended family on the Mattock side. He had a bunch of siblings and there are nieces and nephews all over the place.”

Rafe aimed his fork at a particularly large piece of chicken. “There are a few Mattocks around town.”

“Might be related. But most of them live downstate. Pug said that’s one of the reasons he wanted to move north full time, to get away from all the relatives.”

I smiled, remembering. His direct quote had been “I love my family, but getting them to call ahead before showing up on our doorstep is harder than sneezing with your eyes open.”

My eyes suddenly started misting. Poor Pug. Poor Sylvia. They’d had so many plans. So many things they’d planned to do together, so many places they’d planned to go. And now they wouldn’t be able to do any of it because someone had fired a bullet into Pug’s heart, ending his life with a—

“Here.” Rafe handed me his paper napkin.

Dutifully, I took it. Wiped my eyes, blew my nose. Blew again. “Thanks,” I said, wadding the napkin up into a ball. “I didn’t expect to do that. It’s not as if Pug was a close friend or anything.”

“But he was still a friend.” Rafe got up and stood behind my chair. He leaned down and hugged me from behind, kissing the top of my head and letting his warmth, his strength, his love, flow into me.

I sniffed one more time and felt myself relax against him. “Love you,” I whispered.

“Back at you,” he said into my hair.

“Mrr.”

Rafe gave me another squeezing hug and stood. We looked at Eddie, who was sitting in a statuesque manner in the doorway between the dining room and kitchen.

“What did he say?” Rafe asked.

“And what makes you think I know?”

“You’ve known him longer.”

While this was true, I wasn’t sure how much help it was. “He’s a cat. Mostly he’s asking for one of three things. For treats, to go outside, or to have the kibble in his bowl mounded properly.”

“Mrr!”