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Frank’s change of heart about coming at me. I crawled over to Tiz and picked her up. “Speak to me, Tiz. Tell me you’re okay.” I shook her tiny chest.
    She heaved a sigh, a large feral grin forming on her face. “I like beaver,” she said. “A whole lot.”
    I rolled my eyes and looked at Lily then at Ford. “She’s fine.” Still, I cradled her in my arms just in case.
    My drunken best friend shook her head, remorse in her bloodshot eyes. “Gosh, Haze. I really am sorry. It all just happened so fast.”
    “She’s starved for company,” I admitted, effectively letting Lily off the hook. “I don’t know if a brick wall could have stopped her.”
    “Hey, Ford,” Lily said shyly. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”
    “We’re fine,” I said sourly. I turned to Ford. “Thanks for the backup, but I think we got it from here.”
    “Do you want a ride back to the diner for your car?”
    “Lily can take me.”
    He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Damn it. Why did he have to sound so mad at me all the time?
    Oh, maybe because you rocked his world with a sloppy drunken kiss and he’s been alone ever since, stupid.
    Again. How was this my fault?
    I didn’t want to think about this or him right now. I wanted to think about Danny and the case. Frank’s threat made me think that maybe the douche-y beaver knew something he hadn’t reported to the police.
    I heard Ford’s truck back down the road. I didn’t look back. I missed him already, and that wasn’t the kind of thing that was going to help in my investigation.
    “I think it’s time we talked to a few of Danny’s friends.”
    “What a sweet, sweet beaver,” Tizzy drunkenly crooned.
    “Stop saying beaver,” I said.
    “Beaver, beaver, beaver,” she sang.
    “Oh dear Goddess.”
    Lily put her hand on my arm. “Maybe you should wait until tomorrow.” She gestured to the partying Shifters. “At least until people are sober.”
    A squeaky hiccup made me nod. I’d never get any real answers with a drunk familiar on my hands. “Fine. Tomorrow.”
    Lily handed me the keys. “You drive.”
    “I have beaver fever,” Tiz sang. “Baby, baby, baby, oh.”
    “No more partying for you.”
    “Spoil sport.”
    “That’s me.” I stroked Tiz’s head fondly. “Special Agent Spoil Sport.” I had a feeling she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

Chapter Eight
    “ACCORDING TO THE POLICE REPORT, you were the last person to see Danny alive,” I said to Lisa Wells, a raccoon Shifter, and Danny’s on-again-off-again girlfriend. She blew smoke in my face. I waved it away. “Did he say anything that might give you the impression he was in danger?”
    “Danny and me,” Lisa said. “We didn’t talk much about personal things. Mostly, he just liked to talk about cars.” She dabbed the glowing cigarette butt into an overflowing ashtray and blew out the last puff. “He really liked cars. He’d been working on an old Chevelle. He called her Sweet Beast. It really got him going, talking about that car.” Her eyes grew wistful. “I really miss him.”
    She had cared for Danny. The revelation made me think of her more kindly. A lot of Shifters in this part of town lived in poverty. Who was I to judge? It was my job to find the killer. Or killers. It wasn’t my job to criticize the victim or his friends. “So he hadn’t fought with anyone leading up to his death?”
    “Oh, sure.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Danny fought with all sorts. He got rousted by the police at least once a month. And Clayton Driver, the owner of Junkyard Dog, said Danny owed him money for parts. He tried to collect from me after, but like I told the fool, you can’t squeeze blood from a rock. Besides, it wasn’t like Danny and me were mated. He was fun and sweet. I think I loved him, but we never got the sign.”
    “The sign?”
    She tapped her nose. “The scent. The one that marks someone as your mate.”
    A scent? Like Red Hots candy, maybe?