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an idiot would pull a weapon out of a body. “I have to go.”
    “Can you stop by my place tonight? I want to talk to you about Bitsy.”
    Sam closed his eyes. He recalled the fuss about the dog, but what the heck did it have to do with him? “Did something happen to the little mutt that I need to know about?”
    “I think Dr. Dave has to make a house call.”
    When the word “mutt” didn’t get a rise out of her, he said, “Why? Is it sick?”
    “Not in the physical sense.”
    Was she saying the dog had a mental problem? Did he really want to know? “And you need me there . . . Why?”
    “Just to talk over a few things. Come on, I promise I won’t go overboard with the questions.”
    Impossible. “I’ll drop by if I can, but I’m not making any promises. What time?”
    “Anytime. In fact, if you’re free around seven you can stop by Viv’s place. She’s ordering dinner for me and Dr. Dave, and there’s always more food than we can eat.”
    “It all depends on how the investigation goes. Vince and I are still questioning people who were allowed backstage last night, even if they were performing at the time of the murder. Vince is lead on this one, so he’s calling the shots.”
    “Why Vince? You were the first officer on the scene.”
    The answer to her question was the same as the list of reasons he had for not allowing her to visit Chesney in jail. They were personally involved; she’d been with him at the site; she knew the supposed killer. But if he told Ellie she was the reason he had to play second fiddle, she’d have a full-blown fit.
    “It was Vince’s turn,” he stated simply. “He had no problem taking whatever I told him as fact and assuming command.”
    “Is that the truth?” she asked, her tone rife with suspicion.
    He crossed mental fingers. “Yes. Now hang up. I’ll call you later and let you know about dinner.”
    The connection dropped and he tossed his phone on the blotter. He’d been waiting for Ellie’s call, knew what she would ask, was even prepared for her bossy attitude. So why did their dialogue bother him so much?
    Get real, Ryder, a voice in his brain growled. You care about the woman. You don’t want to create hostility, especially since things have gone so well for the past four months.
    Ellie had let him back into her bed. They enjoyed being together, verbal sparring included. She always knew what to say to ease his anger and make him laugh. She was a good person, a saint really, when compared to most of the people he had to deal with, including those in his own family.
    More important, she knew the rules. She usually backed away when he asked her to, and made him smile when she did it. She was the bright spot in his day, the reason he now saw the good in people he used to write off as crackpots or fools. She complemented his contrary and disbelieving nature, made sense of the things he sometimes found it impossible to understand. To put it plainly, Ellie was the very best of his better half.
    Except when a friend or a client was in trouble. Then all bets were off, and she fought as dirty as any street fighter.
    And Chesney was both.
    Leaning back in his chair, Sam heaved another sigh. He could give orders, make demands, and set as many boundaries as he wanted, but it wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good. Vince had already told him he was a goner when it came to Ellie Engleman and he didn’t doubt it for a second.
     
    Instead of saying good-bye to Sam, Ellie simply ended the call and headed for home. The man was so frustrating she wanted to scream. Then she remembered the hellacious wail that had erupted from backstage at Guess Who and thought better of it. She’d only hurt her voice if she raised it that many decibels, and the last thing she needed was laryngitis—not a good thing in her line of work.
    “Didn’t sound like the deceptive dick was any help,” Rudy offered, trotting beside her.
    “He told me as much as he could, I guess. I’ll just have