Wheeler adjusted his visor. “Find anything back there, Sherlock?”

“Just the little book of names. We’ll see what that unearths. After I’m done with it, I’ll need you to sneak me back in to return it.”

“I think we need to pull over and eat.”

My stomach was growling and I hadn’t noticed. How could he hear it over the engine? “I could use a bite, although if there’s a beef jerky diner in town, I’m going to have to decline your offer.”

“Just for that, you’re eating by yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

The car lurched into a parking space at a burger joint and he shut off the engine. “I’m hungry, and seeing how I’m the one driving the car, that leaves you with little choice in the matter. You obviously have no respect for me, and I’d rather not share a meal with someone who can’t shut off the insults.”

“You’re one to talk!”

“Well, I guess that solves our problem. Maybe fire and kerosene don’t go together for a reason. I’ll sit at the bar, you find a table. We’ll eat in peace and then I’ll drive you home… or to your next shave.”

“Maybe I’m not the only one who needs a shave,” I said matter-of-factly, getting out of the car.

As he stalked inside, I received a call on my phone. “Hello?”

“It’s Reno. I have an address for the cousin. Tonight?”

When I stepped inside the diner, a blast of cold air made me shiver. “Tonight is no good. I have to work, and there’s not enough time right now for me to do all that. Don’t you dare go without me,” I said, sitting at a table with my back to the window.

He sighed. “It’s your money, but I’m gonna have a real problem if you blow me off tomorrow.”

“No, tomorrow is good. The sooner the better. Do you want to pick me up or—”

“Have you ever ridden a bike?”

Sweet Mary, no! I’d seen Reno’s bike, and after my mother’s car accident years ago, riding a motorcycle would terrify me. Nothing between me and the hard pavement but thin air.

“Why don’t you stop by, and I’ll drive?”

“And leave my bike on the human side of town?” he almost growled.

A man walked in and looked my way before approaching the counter.

“Do you want me to come pick you up?”

I knew that wouldn’t go over well. Having a woman in her sporty little Trans Am pick up the big and strong private investigator? I could almost hear male pride crumbling on the other end of the phone.

“This is problematic,” he murmured. “We don’t have a free car tomorrow. Your swinging by is no good unless you want to get me in deep tar with my Packmaster. I should have thought this out before accepting your offer.”

“So let’s do this: we meet up at Sweet Treats Bakery. I’ll zip in and say hello, and you show up with bike trouble. I’ll offer to give you a ride, and your bike will be right in front of the shop where Lexi can keep an eye on it.”