I didn’t need the reminder. I steered the conversation back to where it started. Or at least to where I wanted it to start. “Which doesn’t explain what Tyler was doing here.”

Eve could roll her eyes with the best of them. “Annie, are you forgetting? We keep tripping over him when we’re investigating our cases.”

“But he wasn’t here to talk about Greg’s murder. If he was, he would have asked to see Jim because Jim is the emergency contact for Très Bonne Cuisine. Or he would have talked to me if he wanted to know what I may have noticed at the shop last night. Or because he wanted to gloat about something he’d noticed that I hadn’t. Or just to tell me to keep my nose out of places where it doesn’t belong. He didn’t do any of that. He didn’t even order lunch, or a Pepsi from the bar. All he did was talk to you.”

“Why, yes, I suppose you’re right.” Eve tried her best, but it wasn’t good enough. A smile broke across her expression. “Tyler and Kaitlin have postponed their wedding,” she said.

This was a surprise, and while I processed it, I thought about everything it might mean. The implication hit like a Metro train. “Oh, no!” I backed away, both my hands out to keep the idea at bay. “You and Tyler… that doesn’t mean that the two of you… you can’t be serious.”

“You are such a worrywart!” Even though it didn’t need it, Eve smoothed a hand over the pink blouse that matched the stilettos that added three inches to her already towering height. “ Tyler stopped in. Just as a courtesy. He said he didn’t want me to hear the news through the grapevine. He said he thought he owed me that. You know, as a friend.”

“Uh-huh.” I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped back, my weight against one sensible, flat-soled shoe. “You and Tyler were never friends.”

Eve’s lips thinned. “Which doesn’t mean he can’t stop by for a chat now and then,” she said before she gave me that look only a best friend can get away with-the one that pinned me to the floor, demanded the truth, and pretty much screamed You ain’t getting away with nothing, girlfriend. “Is that why Peter is here to see you?”

“Now, now, ladies.” He really didn’t have to step between us, but Jim did anyway and I was grateful. This wasn’t a discussion I wanted to have with Eve in Belly-washer’s, not with Jim standing by and Peter in the wings. “We’ll talk about all this later, why don’t we. When there aren’t any customers about. For now…” He looked around, scrambling to find something for Eve to do. “If you could check with Damien and see if the crab cakes are ready for table five, that would be a godsend.”

Of course she agreed. But not before she raised her perfectly arched eyebrows in a look that promised we had a lot to talk about.

We did.

As soon as I could sort through what the hell was going on.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” I told Jim the moment Eve was gone. It wasn’t as if I felt obliged to provide some sort of excuse, I just wanted to be up front with him. “I’m not especially happy to see him.”

“Of course I know that, Annie.” His smile came and went. “And I’m sorry if I came across like some antediluvian throwback. You have every right to talk to anyone you like. More right to talk to him than others, I suppose.” Again, he looked Peter’s way. “He’s not what I expected.”

“Really?” I looked that way, too, and while I was at it, I elbowed Jim in the ribs. “You thought he would have cloven hooves, horns, and a tail, right?”

Jim grinned. “I didn’t think he’d be that nice looking. I mean-” Like most guys, he was embarrassed to admit he even noticed what other guys looked like. But then, Peter’s hard to ignore. Not that he’s drop-dead gorgeous or anything. He’s not. He’s not as tall as Jim. He’s not as broad in the shoulders. I suppose he’s technically not more than average looking, but somehow, for Peter, that’s more than enough.

He’s got dark hair and a great smile. He’s got a rugged, square chin that I used to think indicated strength of character, and a kind of swagger that has less to do with his opinion of himself than it does with self-preservation. When you teach chemistry to hormone-driven teenagers, you’d better be all about attitude. Or they’ll eat you alive.

“He’s a fine-looking bloke,” Jim finally said, because really, there was no way out of it. “You must have made a handsome couple.”

“Handsome is as handsome does.” Just so he didn’t forget it, I stood on tiptoe and planted a kiss on Jim’s cheek. “What Peter did to me… no way does that qualify as handsome.”

“Neither would me marching over there and dragging you away from him. Not if I wasn’t telling the truth. I really do have business to discuss with you.”

Jim pulled a key chain out of his pocket and handed it to me. It held three keys and had a little corkscrew on the end of it. I recognized it as the extra set of keys Monsieur Lavoie kept at Bellywasher’s as a backup. “I need you to go over to Monsieur’s.”

I thought about the shop and the blood on the floor and how it wasn’t supposed to be cleaned up until the next day, and my stomach flipped like it hadn’t flipped in a long time. Well, at least not since a couple minutes before when I ran into Peter. “Of course, if there’s something you need…,” I said, and I didn’t sound convincing, even to me. “But I doubt the cops will let me in. They’re probably still processing the crime scene.”

“Oh, no, not to the shop.” Jim gave me a quick, apologetic smile. “It’s his home where I’d like you to go. I think we should pick up the mail, maybe turn on a light or two. You know, make the place looked lived in so that no one notices he’s gone and gets it into their heads that this might be a good time for a burglary.”

“Of course. I should have thought of that myself.”

“I’d go on my own, but there’s a bride coming in just a bit for a consultation on a wedding luncheon next month.” He glanced up at the clock that hung above the bar. “The lunch hour is just about over. Take Eve with you, why don’t you. That’s better than you going off alone.”

Grateful for the distraction and glad to have a legitimate excuse to tell Peter we’d have to catch up another time, I went into the kitchen to find her.

“This is perfect, Annie.” She practically purred when I told her we were going out. “A chance to dish the dirt on Tyler and Peter and investigate, all at the same time.”

It was exactly what I had been thinking.

Except for the Peter part, of course.

The Peter part I still wasn’t ready to talk about. At least until I could think it over and figure out what the heck had just happened.

Of course, that didn’t prevent Eve from trying to get every little morsel of info out of me. She talked all the way to Cherrydale, a stone’s throw from the Clarendon neighborhood where Très Bonne Cuisine is located. She was still talking when we maneuvered our way around a dark sedan just pulling away from the curb. We parked in Monsieur’s driveway.

I’d been to the house a couple of times before, and this time, just like then, I was impressed by the charming 1920s bungalow. Monsieur had owned it for little more than a year, and he’d renovated it from top to bottom. I knew that though it was small, it was packed with every modern convenience, from a media room to the kind of sleek and well-stocked kitchen most food lovers only dream of.

I also knew that if I was going to find out where Monsieur was and why we hadn’t been able to find him, this was the perfect place to start.

“Wait.” I put a hand on Eve’s arm and stopped her when she was about to pop out of the car. “Let’s take a couple minutes and just look at the place. Anything seem weird to you?”

She stared at the house. “Not a thing. You?”

“No.” I hated to admit it, but facts were facts. My hopes dashed, I pushed open the car door. “I was hoping we’d see something glaring. You know-”