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snapped her gum and flounced away. Tate held his breadstick like a cigar and bit off the tip.
    "Sweetheart?" Byrony queried with exaggerated incredulity. "I can’t believe you haven’t been slapped with a sexual harassment suit."
    "She didn’t look harassed to me," he countered with a wink.
    However, Byrony couldn’t make a retort, for she could see the waitress headed back to their table, balancing a full mug in one hand and their pizza in the other. As the woman bent to place both items on the table, even from where she sat, Byrony could see down her loose neckline to her lacy, push-up bra. But Tate seemed more interested in the fragrant pizza.
    One of the hockey fans yelled for another pitcher of beer, and the woman rolled her eyes as she straightened. "Holler if you need anything else," she said as she sashayed away.
    Sniffing appreciatively, Tate served up a slice for Byrony and then one for himself. " You done good on this one, Sunshine."
    "They call it the carnivore special."
    "Yes, indeed!" Tate enthused. Then he proceeded to polish off three slices and half his beer in the same time it took Byrony to finish her first piece.
    When she was halfway through her second slice, the hockey game ended amid much hooting and exclamations, and most of the crowd started to disperse. With the noise reduced to a manageable level, Byrony decided to ask if Tate’s afternoon endeavors had been more successful than hers.
    "So did you get in touch with Cody Henry?" she asked between bites.
    "Course I did." He took a gulp of beer, picked up another slice, then asked, "You up for a ferry ride to St. Ignace in the morning? Before you say yes, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow."
    "I brought an umbrella." Byrony nibbled for a few more moments, but when Tate didn’t say more, she prodded again. "So did you rent a buggy from the livery?"
    He shook his head, his too-long blond hair falling across his forehead. "I never drove a team, so I borrowed a horse from the Sarge . Took a little ride out to visit our buddy Mister J. Saunders from the Grand Hotel."
    "J. Saunders?" Byrony mused, taking another bite before she made the connection. "You mean the twitchy guy in the suit?"
    "The very one," Tate confirmed, one dimple briefly visible. "Mr. Justin Saunders is an assistant manager of the hotel dining room. I found his address and dropped by to see him when I knew he was off work. He wasn’t a bit happy to see me, wouldn’t even open his door, much less ask me in."
    As Tate paused to imbibe more of his beer, a flash of excitement raced through Byrony’s nervous system. "Do you think he’s hiding something?"
    "Maybe, but maybe not." Tate took another leisurely bite of pizza, and Byrony clenched her hands to keep from shaking more words out of him. Finally he continued. "He said he’d told the Mac City police everything, and I should talk to them. But I got the distinct impression he was under orders to keep quiet."
    Byrony stuck her nose in the air and adopted a haughty tone. "Mrs. Cristina Woodleigh -Prince, by any chance?" Then when Tate gave a low chuckle, she added, "She’s not well-liked around here according to my innkeeper Mrs. Giroux. Can you imagine?"
    "Maybe they haven’t heard of her mother either." He didn’t crack another smile, but chewed with a thoughtful expression. "Find out anything else from the knowledgeable Mrs. Giroux?"
    "Just that Mr. Prince is charming," Byrony admitted with a sigh. "Maybe you should try your hand with her."
    Nodding, Tate finished his fourth slice and raised one eyebrow. "And maybe you should take a shot with Mr. J. Saunders. You might be more his type."
    "Really?" Byrony’s mouth fell open at the realization he was asking for her assistance. "I mean, not about being his type, but you’d let me question him?"
    He shrugged and reached for slice number five. "You’re so blasted determined to help me, why not? The dude ain’t talking to me. But first we have to meet with Mr. Cody Henry. The