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Archie absorbed the curtness of that, matched it with, “I promised Judith I would ask when John’s body might be released for burial.”

“You know the answer to that: I don’t know yet.”

“I’ll convey that message.”

“That it?”

Okay, he wasn’t imagining it, wasn’t being oversensitive. There was brusque and there was rude. This was pretty fucking rude.

“No. I wanted to offer my assistance. If you—”

“Your assistance?” No missing the offended note in Beau’s tone.

Archie scrambled to repair the damage. “Beau, I only meant that I have access to resources and contacts that—”

“Special Agent Crane, you don’t have access to any contacts or resources not available to the police department. This feels a lot like you’re attempting to insert yourself into my investigation. Any reason that might be the case?”

“Are you kidding me?”

Silence.

Archie said hotly, “I didn’t say I have access that you don’t have. My point is that when Twinkleton PD requests forensic analysis, digital evidence recovery, access to databases and intelligence resources, you take your place at the end of the line. It’s a long line! I have contacts and connections that can get you answers faster.”

“Thanks, but we don’t need to cut to the front of the line to solve a simple homicide. I think we can handle this one without involving the federal government.”

Archie’s heart was pounding as hard as if he found himself in the midst of a firefight. In all honesty, he felt like he’d been ambushed. It was more baffling because—not that their long ago past was a factor, with Beau being married and all, but—Beau had dumped him.

“Message received.” Archie matched Beau’s cold tone.

“Good. Anything else I can help you with.”

Rarely, rarely, was Archie rattled, but he was rattled now. He was pretty sure there had been something else, but he couldn’t think what it was.

“No. Thanks.”

Oh yeah, the obvious question: any progress in the investigation? He was not about to ask.

“Enjoy your day,” Beau said, and disconnected.

And if that wasn’t sarcasm—well, that was definitely sarcasm. If Archie didn’t know better, he’d have said Beau was spoiling for a fight.

Chapter Four

As angry as he was, and after that brief conversation with Beau, he was seriously pissed off, Archie ended up taking a nap and then sleeping until dinner time.

The fatigue was the worst part of this concussion thing. The pressure in his head, the dizziness, the blurry vision and sensitivity to light and noise he could tough out. Mostly. But the fatigue was like a weight crashing down on him. He could only go so far and then it flattened him.

But he was already feeling a bit better. Two days ago, he could no more have wandered around the streets of Twinkleton than he could have flown. He just had to be patient and work around his physical limitations until he was back to one hundred percent.

In the meantime, he needed food and he needed a plan.

The dark-haired girl had been replaced at the front desk by a blonde-haired girl. She offered him an uninterested smile as he walked through the lobby and went out through the tall carved mahogany entry door with its panel of decorative glass.

It had rained while he slept, and the air had that freshly-washed-garden smell. He strolled down the damp and shady cobblestone path to the street and then headed downtown. In the gentle twilight, old-fashioned street lamps blinked on, lights shone invitingly in cafe windows, a few scattered stars twinkled overhead. It would be dark soon, and for the first time in maybe forever, the good people of Twinkleton were probably a little nervous at night’s approach.

Without reason, because as far as Archie was concerned, there was zero chance that John had been the victim of random violence. The mysterious message requesting a meeting in the gazebo cinched that. John had almost certainly known his killer. Almost certainly believed he had nothing to fear—though a request to meet in such an odd place at such an odd time should have raised some doubts.

He had been worried and strained; was the meeting connected or unconnected to John’s state of mind? Connected seemed most likely.