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   "Do?" He squinted and brushed a raindrop from the tip of his nose. "I lost you in the crowd. I've been looking for you. What's up?"

   "He's trying to kill me, that's what's up."

   Kegan didn't ask how I knew. He took hold of my arm and together, we headed over to talk to the cops.

       the man with the gun with the cops at the park, who'd fanned out to investigate and came back emptyhanded and looking at me as if I was the crackpot. I'd called Tyler not twice but three times, prepared to tell him I had a hot lead and he had a new suspect. Each time I called, though, I got his voice mail, and honestly, I didn't feel like leaving a message about how a guy who might be a guy who was supposed to be dead might not be because he'd just tried to kill me. I'd called Jim, too, to beg off going into the restaurant that night and yes, I did leave out the part about the guy who was supposed to be dead, but might not be and blah, blah, blah. It was Saturday night, and Bellywasher's was sure to be slammed. The last thing Jim had time to worry about was me.

   Honestly, right about then, I didn't have the energy to care about much else. I was as wrung out as the clothes that were hung on the shower curtain rod and still dripping into my bathtub. I double-checked to make sure my door was locked, pulled on the warmest pair of pajamas I could find along with my fuzzy slippers and a robe, and made myself a cup of peppermint tea. I was halfway through drinking it as I sat in the comfiest chair in the living room when I fell asleep. The tea was already cold when the phone rang and woke me up.

   "Bad news, Annie."

   It was a voice I recognized, but it sounded so clogged and stuffy, I couldn't quite place it. I blinked away my sleepiness and tried to say something intelligible. It came out sounding more like, "Huh?"

   "Bad news."

   Finally, I recognized the voice as belonging to Kegan. That coupled with what he said made me shoot up straight in my chair, my heart suddenly beating double time, just like it had as Reggie Goldman hunted me down in Lafayette Park. "What's wrong?" I asked Kegan.

   "It's because of the protest this morning, I'm afraid. I mean, I'm sorry for the trouble and all but—"

   "But what's wrong?"

   "It's not like I want you to worry or anything, Annie, it's just that I know if I don't come through like I said I would, you'll be disappointed, and I'd never want to disappoint you, but I know you must be tired and—"

   "Kegan!" I gave him the verbal equivalent of a slap across the face. "What's wrong?"

   "I've got a cold."

   "Oh."

   I guess the single word didn't disguise the fact that this was anticlimactic. Kegan sniffed. "I hate to make you come out in the middle of the night, Annie—"

   "Oh?"

   "But I've got my Smokin' Good Chicken Dip all ready, and I know there's no way I'm going to be able to drag myself out of bed tomorrow. Not when I'm feeling this bad now. I thought if you could come over and get it, you could take it over to the shower for me."

   "Oh." I wasn't exactly disappointed. More like so bone tired I was going to fall over, and I knew there was no way on earth I wanted to go out.

   Until I thought of hurting Kegan's feelings.

   And not making Fi's shower as nice as it could possibly be.

   I told Kegan I'd be right over and dragged myself out of my chair and into my bedroom. Even in my exhausted state, I knew I couldn't leave the house in my pajamas and fuzzy slippers.

       when he dragged me out in the middle of a rainy night. He sounded terrible on the phone, all sniffly and stuffy, and the last thing he needed was to be out of bed. That in itself would have been enough to convince me to go over to his place to pick up the dip, but I also knew that if I didn't, Kegan would feel as if he hadn't contributed to Fi's baby shower. I'd already rejected him. And slapped him down (figuratively speaking, of course) because of the blunder he'd made when we talked to Reggie Goldman. I didn't want him to think I was holding any of this against him, because really, I wasn't. It was only a matter of time until I got ahold of Tyler, and when I did, I knew Tyler would track down Reggie. I was actually feeling pretty positive about our investigation.

   As for the bit about hurting Kegan . . .

   I reminded myself that guilt would get me nowhere, and it would do nothing to repair the tear in Kegan's and my friendship. Helping out when the kid was feeling lousy was much more likely to work.

   I arrived at Kegan's a little after nine to find him scuffing around the apartment in flannel lounge pants that looked as if they'd been slept in and a T-shirt with a picture of a baby seal on it. The seal, I think, must once have been white. Now, shirt and seal were the same dingy shade of gray.

   Before I was even inside, he started to thank me for coming, but I didn't let him finish. The second I was through the door, I knew I had more to worry about than just a little residual emotional angst.

   Remember that peppermint tea? The results were predicable.

   "Bathroom?" I asked Kegan, and when he pointed the way, I hurried inside. I was done and already washing my hands when I saw that the medicine cabinet above the sink was open and half-emptied. No doubt, he'd been looking for cold medication. I could have kicked myself for not asking if I could pick something up for him on my way over.

   "Kegan!" My hands still damp, I opened the door and called to him so I could make the offer. He didn't answer, so I finished drying my hands and hung the towel back on the rack where I'd found it. Naturally, my gaze drifted over the products piled on the countertop next to the sink.

   Toothpaste.

   Mouthwash.

   Dental floss.

   Looked like Kegan had oral hygiene pretty much covered.

   Deodorant (all natural with no aluminum added, according to the label).

   A razor and blades.

   And—

   "Hair color?" I had the box in my hands before I could stop myself and realized a moment later that for the first time since being hunted in Lafayette Park, I had a smile on my face. It looked as if for all his talk about nature and a chemical-free world, Kegan made exceptions. He was just as vain as the rest of us. And prematurely gray, to boot.

   Still grinning and glad that I had this new bit of insight into Kegan's personality, I put the hair color back exactly where I'd found it and walked out of the bathroom. I glanced to my left down the short hallway that led into the living room, but Kegan wasn't where I'd left him.

   "Kegan?" I called to him, but he still didn't answer. I looked to my right. The apartment wasn't big, and I found myself looking right into his bedroom. For the second time that night, I was surprised by what I saw.

   "There you are!" Before I even had time to process this new information, Kegan was right behind me in the hallway, and I jumped at the sound of his voice. "I was in the kitchen," he said, stabbing his thumb over his shoulder to point the way. His nose was red, and he sniffled. "The dip is all set and ready to go."

   "Right. Of course!" I followed him to the kitchen, got the casserole dish, and reminded him that if he wasn't feeling well, he'd better take good care of himself. At the last minute, I remembered the cold medication.

   "Don't need it." There was a plastic bag of what looked like pot on the kitchen counter, and Kegan pointed to it. "Eucalyptus," he said, appeasing my law-abiding heart with that one word. "This tea has spearmint and chamomile in it, too. A friend of mine grows the herbs himself and mixes this stuff up. It can't cure a cold, but it sure helps me feel better, and it helps me sleep, too. You know what they say, Annie, when you have a cold, you need plenty of rest. I'll bring some tea to Bellywasher's next week one day. Just in case you picked up my germs. I just wish I could be there to help with the shower tomorrow, but Fi and the girls don't need this cold, that's for sure.

   "Not a problem." I pulled the car keys out of my pocket and headed for the door. "Feel better."

   "Thanks." He closed the door behind me, and out in the hallway, I wondered at the facets of a person's personality. It looked like there were surprises in every relationship, even one I thought was as simple as Kegan's and mine.

   The hair color was one of them. And the other? What I'd caught a glimpse of in the bedroom: laundry, folded and stacked on Kegan's bed in orderly piles.

   Who would have thought anybody who started out so neat could always end up so rumpled?

       everything together for Fi's baby shower. Overnight, Bellywasher's sprouted blue balloons that bobbed from the backs of chairs and the top of the sandalwood screen that separated the entrance from the main part of the restaurant. They even rose from the antlers of the deer head (fake, thank goodness!) that hung behind the bar. There were blue and white flower arrangements on every table and a huge It's a Boy! sign above the buffet table where Margaret, Agatha, and Jorge were putting the finishing touches just as I walked in.

   "Good thing I have a lot of neighbors who are good sports." Jim gave me a quick kiss on the cheek as he zipped by with a tray of fresh fruit. "I didn't know who else to invite. Between them and our students who all brought little gifts . . ." He looked over to the pile of brightly wrapped presents on the bar. "Call me crazy, but I'm glad we're able to do this for Fi."

   "You're crazy." As long as he was standing right there (and not spouting bad poetry for a change), I took advantage of the situation. I gave him a peck on the cheek, too, and told him, "I wouldn't have you any other way."

   I'd rushed out that morning and picked up a little boy's outfit from a local specialty shop, and I added my gift to the pile before I went into the kitchen to hand Kegan's dip to Marc, who had volunteered to come in to help. With that taken care of and the food and drinks in the capable hands of our students, there was nothing for me to do but sit back and relax. It wasn't a position I was used to being in—not at home, not at the bank, and certainly not at Bellywasher's— and after I'd convinced myself to get over the strange, antsy feeling that always enveloped me when I didn't have enough to keep me busy, I decided to go with the flow and try to enjoy it. After all I'd been through lately, I deserved a little R & R, and with that in mind, I went out to the bar to sample the mimosas I heard were on the party menu.

   I was just in time to be intercepted by Jorge. "Games," he said.

   "Games?" I waited for more.

   For all his talk about opening a restaurant of his own, Jorge was flustered by the rush of preparations. He straightened the flowers in the closest vase and shuffled from foot to foot, anxious to get on to the hundred and one other little details that needed to be handled before our guests arrived. "My wife," he said. "Last night she told me that women always play games at showers. You know, things like pin the diaper on the baby or having guests stuff balloons under their shirts and pretend to be pregnant. You know, fun stuff like that. Who knew? Guys don't go to showers. I had no idea."

   "You want to play games? Sure. I don't think Jim would mind."

   "I knew you'd be a good sport about it." Jorge smiled with relief. "We'll need five or six, I think. You know, to fill the time."

   "Need?" He'd already turned around to take care of a last-minute check on the table settings, so when I called out my question, Jorge stopped.

   "Yeah, need," he said over his shoulder. "We forgot all the about planning games. We're putting you in charge."

   With all the work our students had already done, how could I complain?

   Of course, that didn't mean I even knew where to begin. I had just decided on a computer search when Jim came sprinting toward me. "Fi loves chocolate, and I've got all that fresh fruit cut up and ready to serve. I just had a brainstorm. Have you seen the chocolate fountain?"

   Since I didn't know we owned a chocolate fountain, I wasn't much help. "Have you tried the supply closet?"

   He winced. I wished him well and kissed him for luck. Any foray into the supply room deserved a hearty send-off. As much as I would have liked to be a team player and help him look, I had baby games to worry about.

   To that end, I hustled toward my office. I was nearly there when Fi came into the restaurant. In a new pantsuit in shades of turquoise, she looked positively radiant, and for a change, she wasn't crying. At least not until she took a look around and was overcome with emotion. "It's lovely! Thank you, Annie." She pulled me into a hug.

   "I can't take credit. This was our students' doing. And Jim's."

   "Aye." Fi's eyes filled with tears. "He's a wonder of a cousin, isn't he? The best man there is on the planet."

   "Oh, I don't know about that."

   This was not something I necessarily believed, because of course Jim was A number one in my book. But when I looked past Fi and saw Richard near the front door looking a little unsure about how he was supposed to handle his role in the festivities, I knew I had to smooth his way. "I think you've got a good guy of your own," I told Fi.

   When she turned toward her husband, Fi's smile faded.

   "Hey, lover." Big points for Richard, he'd stopped at a florist shop, and he presented Fi with an elaborate and gorgeous corsage of white roses and blue-tipped mini carnations. "I thought you might need some help opening gifts."

   Her chin went rigid. "I don't need help," she said, and something told me this wasn't the first time he'd heard these words from her. "I am capable of doing things for myself."