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    “I guess he could have been poisoned. What did it smell like?”
    Perry stared at Nick. His stomach rolled over once and then paused for station identification. “He smelled…dead.”
    Nick looked unimpressed. Perry tried, “Maybe he died of natural causes, but because he wasn’t supposed to be in a particular place, he was moved to my rooms.”
    “Why not dump him in the woods or on the main highway?”
    “Maybe there wasn’t time? Putting him in my apartment had to be a temporary
    measure.”
    “Maybe. I guess we need to focus on who had opportunity. You could have made up the whole story, except that I did see that smear, and the scuff marks, and the shoe, and you 24 Josh Lanyon
    didn’t have opportunity to get rid of those before the cops showed up. The same’s true of the Bridger dame. I figure she was with you the whole time I was upstairs?”
    “Well, yeah,” Perry answered, surprised. “And she was never out of our sight once you came back down.”
    “Neither MacQueen or Dembecki could lift an unconscious man. I don’t think they could do it together, let alone by themselves. That leaves Stein and Center. What do you know about those two?”
    “Mr. Stein used to be a cop,” Perry said. “He’s retired now.”
    “Is he married?”
    “Divorced, I think. I don’t know anything about Center except that he’s a medium. He holds séances. He can tell fortunes by reading tarot cards.”
    “In other words, he’s a quack.”
    Perry shrugged. “He did a reading for Jane once. She said it was…uncanny.”
    “At fifty bucks a pop, uncanny is the word.” Nick polished off his eggs and studied Perry’s plate. “Eat up, kid.”
    Perry shoveled in a mouthful of hash browns and confided, “I usually can’t eat when I’m nervous.”
    Nick shook his head. “Eating right is essential.”
    “Did you learn that in the SEALs?”
    “As a matter of fact, I did.”
    Perry nodded encouragingly. He recognized a fanatic when he saw one, and all fanatics liked a chance to spread the gospel. Sure enough, Nick was on his soapbox faster than you could say glycemic index.
    “A proper diet provides the fuel to keep your engine running smoothly. It provides energy and promotes the growth and repair of tissue. And regulates your body processes.”
    Perry bit back a grin. This was the furthest Nick Reno had unbent so far -- in fact, he was almost friendly in his enthusiasm.
    “Carbs, protein, and fat are the three energy nutrients,” Nick concluded. “Best energy source is carbs.” He looked pointedly at Perry’s mound of potatoes, and Perry shoveled in another forkful automatically.
    “Could the police be involved?” he questioned thickly and then swallowed. “They could have cleaned up the tub and switched shoes.”
    “Why would they?”
    “Why would anyone?”
    “I don’t see this as an outside operation,” Nick said. “Someone could have used the ladder outside your window, but he would have tracked mud and rain all over the carpet.
    And he couldn’t have locked the window after himself.”

    The Ghost Wore Yellow Socks
    25
    Perry weighed this, nibbling on a slice of bacon. When was the last time he’d had bacon -- good bacon that wasn’t all rind? A long time. Nick ate well, for sure.
    “There’s another possibility,” Nick added. “The murderer -- assuming it was murder --
    could have been in your place when you arrived and moved the body after you left.”
    Although that thought had occurred to Perry too, he didn’t like it. It freaked him out: the idea of someone watching him, maybe ready to kill him too.
    “Move it where?”
    “Someplace on the third floor.” Nick added, “Not that I could find any sign of it.”
    “What do you mean?” Perry put two and two together fast. “You checked? Last night?
    You went out alone?”
    “I can handle myself.” Nick was amused by Perry’s horror.
    Meaning Perry could not?
    “Anyway, the situation’s secured, I