“That’s probably a good thing.” She didn’t know how to think any different. “And you are sweet.” She opened the door that led to her office. “Would you like to protect me as I ascend the stairs, or are we good?”

“I also like your sense of humor,” he drawled. “It’s always unexpected.”

She partially turned. “The best humor is.”

He snorted. “All right. I’m going to check out my offices and see who’s in working on a Saturday and what we have on the books, and then I’ll come upstairs and work with you. Deal?”

“That sounds like a good plan.” She turned and walked up the stairs, feeling lighter for some reason. Nobody thought she was funny. Except Huck.

Dr. Joseph Keyes was waiting at the top of the stairs, leaning against the display case. He straightened and drew a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.

She stilled and then took inventory of the floor.

Nester poked his head through the doorway. “You have a visitor. He asked to wait in your office, and I said no.”

“Thank you,” Laurel said, noting that Nester was wearing his gun in a shoulder holster. Was he at the ready because of the shooting the night before, or did he have a dislike for the doctor? “What can I do for you, Dr. Keyes?”

Nester didn’t show any sign of leaving but instead stood in the doorway, watching the doctor.

The doctor cleared his throat. “I would like a chance to speak with you alone.”

“Why?” Laurel asked.

He rounded his back slightly, lowering his chin much like a challenged gorilla. Apparently the doctor wasn’t accustomed to people questioning him. “I know this is awkward, but I was hoping to ask you out.” He held out the flowers, which looked like a variety of daisies in plastic paper. From the grocery store?

“No, I don’t think so.” There were kinder words to use, but she wasn’t up to par. Her wrist hurt and the case was not coming together as she’d hoped.

Nester cleared his throat. “We executed a warrant, and your credit card receipts came through this morning, Dr. Keyes. I’m confused why you didn’t tell the FBI that you had an alibi for the murder of Christine Franklin.”

Dr. Keyes turned the color of a fresh burn. “I . . . for goodness sake.”

“What is the alibi?” Laurel asked.

“It isn’t what you think,” the doctor protested, pulling the flowers back toward his chest.

Laurel nodded for Nester to continue.

“The good doctor spent about ten thousand dollars in the last few days with the North Side Escort service. Man, you must be taking some serious pills.” Nester shook his head.

“It’s not true—” the doctor protested.