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He loves this stuff.No way will he stay retired.Which means no way will he stay in Safehaven.

“What then?” Andy asked.

“I believe one reason Sirius and his confederate—former confederate?—are so sure the jewels are here is because they were hand-delivered.”

“I’m…not following.”

“If I’m right, if Time in a Bottle is a regular stop in this delivery chain, then someone in Safehaven is a contact, if not an actual operative in the smuggling ring.”

Andy repeated slowly, doubtfully, “Smuggling ring.” But, of course, that’s what they were talking about. This wasn’t a one-off. Or at least, maybe Uncle C.’s involvement was a one-off. Quinn could be wrong about the role Time in a Bottle played. But the smuggling of jewels was clearly business as usual for someone.

Someone in Safehaven?

“What do you say?” Quinn asked.

Andy snapped back to the present. “About what?”

“Are you coming with me to scope out Whittaker’s Second Chances? You don’t have to. You can stay at my place. It’s a hell of a lot more secure than here.”

“Your place? I thought—”

Quinn cocked his head in inquiry. “My house isn’t a crime scene. They can—and they did—search it, but they can’t continue to deny me access.”

Andy asked the question that had been lingering in the back of his mind since Quinn showed up so opportunely. “How are you out of jail? When I spoke to Chief Millard this morning, he seemed convinced you were his guy.”

Quinn said easily, “Oh, he’s still convinced I’m his guy. But I have connections, and those connections did an end run around the chief and got me out on bail.”

“It’s that easy?”

Quinn offered a crooked smile. “Yes and no. In return, I’ve promised to find out what our friend Cyril Sirius is up to. Which it behooves me to do since I’m pretty sure reeling in Sirius is going to help catch the fish I want.”

“Marcus’s killer,” Andy said.

“Marcus’s killer,” Quinn agreed.

The advantage of not having a lot of possessions was Safehaven PD had less to search.

Even so, Chief Millard seemed to have given orders that no stone—or spoon—was to be left unturned because every drawer and closet at Captain Rafferty’s house had been emptied onto the floor. The contents of the refrigerator and freezer were left strewn across the kitchen floor and left to spoil. Even Quinn’s liquor cabinet had been raided in what was surely nothing more than spite. The empty bottles sat on the sink counter.

“How the hell dare they?” Andy was shocked and horrified at the obvious disrespect for Quinn and disregard for his belongings. “Is this even legal?”

“It’s legal.” Quinn seemed to take it in stride. “Sometimes a search is as much about sending a message as it is about looking for something.”

“What were they looking for? Theyhavethe murder weapon.” Even so, they had taken Quinn’s so-called arsenal. Even his grandfather’s shotgun had been seized “pending further investigation.”

“They don’t have evidence. They don’t have motive.” Quinn gave Andy a funny smile. “That is, they do have motive, but it’s not provable in a court of law.”

It took Andy a second or two to figure out what Quinn meant. He stared, his face grew warm, and he gave a shaky laugh.

“That would definitely not stand up in a court of law.”

“You don’t think there’ll be any corroborating evidence?”

Quinn was kidding, of course, but something in his expression threw Andy. He faltered, “I…”

Quinn was still smiling, but his, “Ever?” seemed serious.

“It’s not like I’ve had time to think about…”