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It was beyond frustrating to be closed out of the investigation. Doubly frustrating to have his legitimate offer of help thrown back in his face. Why? Okay, maybe from local law enforcement’s view, his personal connection to the victim necessitated keeping him at arm’s-length, but why not take advantage of his connections and resources? And if Beau—local law enforcement—was that pigheaded, what the hell with the attitude?

What had Archie ever done to Beau to deserve that?

He was truly baffled.

You dumped me.

Not that they were ever going to have that conversation, but that was the truth. Archie had been the guy who got his heart broken. Archie was the guy who’d never managed to get over it enough to completely trust anyone else. Beau, presumably, had gone on to have the life he wanted. He was Twinkleton’s youngest chief of police. He’d married. He probably had three-point-five kids by now. What the hell was he so mad at Archie about?

Be careful what you wish for?

Well, Archie had tried to tell him that a couple of times.

It was pointless thinking about this stuff. He had a lot more serious things to consider. If Beau was determined to keep him on the outside of the investigation, there wasn’t a lot he could do about it. But he could unobtrusively support the investigation through his own efforts.

He’d have to be discreet. He didn’t want to cross the line into interfering in a police investigation. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Twinkleton PD could solve a homicide on their own. Beau was probably a very good chief of police. He’d always excelled at whatever he put his mind to. He’d just rarely bothered to put his mind to anything.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t totally fair.

Everything Beau wanted had always come easy to him, but that wasn’t his fault. He’d been willing to work for the things he had to.

Archie passed a couple of sidewalk cafes, a brewhouse, and finally stopped in front of a small Italian restaurant. Even from the sidewalk, he could smell delicious aromas of simmering herbs and sizzling meats. His apathetic appetite sparked back into life.

Restaurant Roma. It rang a bell. He’d celebrated his sixteenth birthday there. John had organized a little party for him, and a handful of his schoolmates had shown up. Most likely due to their parents’ respect for John.

Archie smiled faintly at the memory. It didn’t sting. He hadn’t been a popular kid, but he hadn’t given a damn about it, either. Twinkleton had been a placeholder for him. It was where he had to be until he could start his life. His adult life.

Back then, the only thing that had mattered, that had felt real and true, was Beau. His feelings for Beau, and Beau’s feelings for him. In the end, that had been the least authentic thing of all.

Why, why was he dredging up all these old, useless memories?

It was being in this place again. In Twinkleton.

Which was one reason he’d avoided coming back here. Probably the smartest, healthiest thing he could do was fly home to Stafford.

But no. He owed this to John. Judith had been right about one thing. He should have made time for John when John was alive. The least, the absolute least he could do, was make sure John’s killer was brought to justice.

He opened the door to the restaurant and was startled to find it packed on a Sunday evening. Before he could back out, the hostess pounced, insisting there was no wait and escorting him to the one open table in the place—a half-table crammed against the wall near the bar.

The hostess handed him a menu, asked for his drink order, and departed.

Archie scanned the menu indifferently—he was not a picky eater—closed it, and studied the crowded room. Thankfully, the lights were muted, but the noise level was already difficult. Maybe he could just order and leave.

The busser arrived one second later with water, bread basket, and Peroni served in a pilsner glass. So, okay, maybe not.

Archie sipped the beer, ignoring the little voice reminding him that he was on painkillers—one beer was not going to kill him, and if it did, he deserved it—and examined the velvet painting of the Tower of Pisa hanging overhead.

He was no art expert, but...yikes.

He glanced around the animated room again, and froze as his gaze collided with an arctic blue stare from the table next to his.

The blue stare resolved itself into Beau’s stony expression. He was staring across the blonde head of the woman dining with him.

Archie managed not to choke on his Peroni. He carefully set his glass down, glanced cautiously up again, and Beau had transferred his gaze to his companion.

Really? Why in the name of God hadn’t he opted for a burger up the street? This was a recipe for indigestion. At the same time, he felt a flash of stubborn defiance. He was not going to be chased out of a restaurant because Beau Langham and his wife happened to be dining there.

And if Archie’s presence in a public space was a problem for Beau, then Beau needed to find someplace else to dine.