Page 50

“I know.”

“But I agree this is…notable.”

“How’s the food?”

Andy and Quinn both jumped at Hilton’s cheery interruption. Quinn recovered instantly, offering a wide grin. “Terrific. As always.”

“You didn’t like the salmon, Andy?”

“Too busy talking,” Andy replied. He shoveled in a forkful of fish and smiled apologetically. He was not fond of maple in any form.

“Another round, boys?”

Quinn eyed Andy. Andy shook his head.

“I think we’re good,” Quinn told her.

“What about dessert?”

Again, Quinn looked at Andy. Again, Andy shook his head. Quinn said, “I think we’re ready for the check.”

“You got it!”

As soon as Hilton sashayed away, Quinn leaned toward Andy. “I think you should come back to my place tonight.”

Andy swallowed another forkful of salmon and laughed.

Quinn drew back. “Ouch.” His mouth quirked. “That didn’t do much for my ego.”

“Sorry. But you’ve got to know that ship has sailed.”

Quinn studied him for a moment. “You don’t think maybe that ship is just in…drydock?”

“No.”

“Or was maybe run off-course?”

Andy grinned and shook his head. “Nope.” He liked—appreciated—that Quinn could make fun of himself and the situation. “She sailed, and she sank.”

“Sank?” Quinn seemed as taken aback as if a real ship was in question.

“Bottom of the sea,” Andy assured him. “Codfish and mackerel are swimming through her bones as we speak.”

“Holy mackerel.” Quinn was smiling too, his gaze quizzical. “All the same, I think you should spend the night at my place, Andy. On my brand-new sofa, if that’s what you prefer. I promise to respect the international-waters treaty.”

“Why?” Andy put down his fork.

“Precautionary measure.”

“Yeah, no. You think the thief is coming back tonight.”

Quinn lifted one shoulder in seeming concession. “Someone’s been trying to get into the shop for the last two nights without any noticeable success. Can you see any reason they’d give up now?”

“How about the fact that people have noticed what they’re up to?”

“What people?”

“Us. The police.Us.”