I give her a level look. I’m trying to stay calm, but it’s hard. Those men with the tanker truck are tromping back and forth across the yard. One has gone into my garden, crushing the horseradish leaves and the freshly planted garlic I plan to harvest in the spring.

“He travels a lot. To be honest, I’m sorry, I’m not sure. A few days? He checks in with me. Usually.”

“Can you maybe check your messages? See if you have one from him?”

“Is he all right?” I demand. “Was there an accident? Is he missing?”

“No, not that we know of,” she says. “Why? Do you expect him to be missing?”

Déjà vu.

I have no idea how to answer her that won’t sound suspicious, but I give it my best. “Of course not. But when two detectives show up at my door and start asking questions, what am I supposed to think it’s about?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Detective Anderson gives a pointed look toward the carriage house. Without looking at me, she asks, “How long has your tenant been living with you? A few months, you say?”

“Yes.” I want to shout again at the men tramping through my garden, but I hold back.

“Was he a friend of your husband’s?” This comes from Detective Phipps.

I shake my head. “Christian and I went to high school together. He needed a place to stay, and we needed some work done on the apartment, so we’re … it’s all working out for us.”

“I bet. That sounds convenient,” Anderson says.

My shoulders square. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at?”

“Not getting at anything.” Her smile is meant to reassure me, but it doesn’t. She pulls a card from her wallet. “If your husband gets in touch with you, would you let me know when he’ll be home? I have a few questions for him about an ongoing investigation. That’s all.”

“What kind of investigation?”

She looks again at the carriage house. Christian has now come out to look at the men with the tanker truck. She waves at him. After a second, he waves back.

“You’re not here for Christian?”

She faces me with a small frown. “Should I be?”

“I don’t know,” I say after a moment. “I guess it depends on what you’re investigating.”

We stare at each other in silence, until she smiles.

“We’ll be in touch. Hope your plumbing issue gets fixed. Have a great day.”

The pair of them take their leave before I can say anything more, not that I had anything to say. I head for the men in the backyard. Christian has gone back inside.

“I told you to stop. I don’t want you messing around back here.” I turn on the guy in my garden. “Get out of there, you’re ruining it.”

He looks apologetic, but it’s the other guy who speaks.

“Sorry. A Ken Jordan called us, said you were having issues with the plumbing backing up, slow flushing, slow draining. He asked us to come out and pump the tank, but also to inspect it. But if you really want us to leave—”