“What does that mean?” Tean asked.

“It means you’re trying to get out of this date.”

“Everyone’s trying to set me up today. Why won’t anyone let me have forty or fifty years of peace before I die?”

“Go have fun, princess.” This was directed to Divorcee; the teacup Yorkie scampered five feet away, stopped, and looked back. “Go on.”

“I’m not trying to get out of a date,” Tean said.

“Ok.”

“I’m just pointing out an incontrovertible fact.”

“Here we go.”

“People suck,” Tean said, varying the tone a little in case she’d missed the point.

Hannah just sighed. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Miguel asked me if you were single today.”

“Did you tell him I’m married?” Hannah said.

“Yes.”

“Great. End of conversation.”

“I saw those reports you put together on—”

“Not work.”

“Well, I wanted to ask—”

“Nope. Work stays at work. I don’t want to think about work. Sook’s funeral is this weekend, and I don’t need anything else making me think about work.” Hannah studied the leash, which she wrapped around her hand as she asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything new from the detectives.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy.”

Hannah nodded.

“I’m sure they’re doing all they can,” Tean said.

“I know.”

“I went through her logs and reports, and I made some calls. Nobody could tell me anything out of the ordinary. And I gave all the information to the police.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know; the detectives would have looked at it on their own eventually.”

“No, I mean, you’re a good guy for doing it.”

“I’d be a better guy if I weren’t planning how to ditch this blind date.”

Hannah slapped his arm. Then she wiped one cheek. “Sorry. I told myself I wasn’t going to bring Sook up again.”

Scipio and Bear had both gotten hold of a rope, and Bear was dragging Scipio around in an uneven version of tug-of-war.

“We could talk about books,” Tean said.

“Pass.”

“If you ever read a book . . .”

“Let’s talk about the very exciting date that I’m setting you up on. Why do you think you won’t like Rand?”

“Because his name’s Rand. Why can’t Utah people name their kids anything normal?”

“You are Utah people. And you have a weird name too. Anyway, he’s a nice guy, and he’s cute. I showed him your picture, and he said you were hot.”

“That doesn’t say much for his taste,” Tean muttered.

Hannah slugged him.

Across the park, Scipio and Bear were wrestling. Bear’s owner was a young guy with a lot of muscles and who apparently owned only tank tops. A couple of times he and Tean had talked. He had a faux-tribal tattoo on his shoulder. Between the tank tops and the tattoo, he was the closest thing to a bad boy Salt Lake City seemed capable of producing.

“That guy’s straight,” Hannah said.

“Straight’s a twentieth-century term. Everybody’s on a sexual spectrum now.”