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we can put an end to this?”
    â€œGood idea,” she said.
    The door to Nic’s art studio was open and he was working by the window, cutting some kind of street map out of heavy paper with an Exacto knife. He turned and smiled at us when Maggie knocked. “Hi, what’s up?” he asked.
    â€œDid you steal from the store?” Maggie asked before I had time to even move beyond the threshold of the door.
    Nic’s eyes widened and his mouth came open a little. He swallowed and set his knife down with a tight, precise motion. “What did I do that makes you have to ask that question, and for the record, the answer is no,” he said.
    â€œYou were working at the store a couple of days ago,” I said, “and you were acting a little . . . odd.”
    His expression changed then. “Yeah, I was.” He looked at Maggie. “I didn’t want you to know. Until I was sure.”
    â€œKnow what?” she said.
    Nic smoothed a hand over his closely shaven head. “I’m still not positive, but I think there might be mice in the store.”
    Maggie took a step backward and folded her arms over her midsection like she was wrapping herself in a hug. She was afraid of small, furry creatures—mice, rats, moles, voles, even gerbils and hamsters.
    I put a hand on her shoulder. “What makes you think so?” I said.
    â€œYou know the display shelves where we have the scarves and the placemats?”
    I nodded.
    â€œI was straightening things up and I noticed the end of one of the scarves looked a little bit chewed. And I saw some bits of dried leaves on the same shelf with the placemats.” He cleared his throat. “My dad had a problem with mice in his pawn shop and we saw the same thing. I wanted to be sure, though, before I said anything. If word got around that we had mice in the store . . .” He held up both hands. “I didn’t want to say something that would cause the tourists to stop coming, especially if it turned out I was wrong.”
    â€œBut you don’t think you’re wrong,” I said.
    Nic shook his head. “Probably not. Sorry.”
    Maggie was holding on so tightly to the sleeve of her T-shirt with one hand, I was surprised she hadn’t actually ripped a hole in it. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” she began. “I’m sorry for thinking you had . . . I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”
    Nic held up a hand. “No. I should have told Ruby what I suspected right away.”
    I gave Maggie’s shoulder a squeeze. “This is fixable,” I said. “I have to go to work in a few minutes, but I’ll go home at the end of the day and get a certain furball who will take care of any mice foolish enough to venture into the shop.”
    â€œOkay,” she said slowly. “Unless you wanted to just get a shovel.” She pressed her lips together but it didn’t stop a grin from spreading across her face.
    I narrowed my eyes at her. “So not funny,” I said.
    Nic’s eyes darted between us. “Am I missing something?” he asked.
    Maggie’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.
    â€œA couple of springs ago there was some major flooding in the downtown,” I said stiffly. “There was a rat in the basement of the store.”
    Nic made a face. “What happened?”
    Maggie looked at me. “Oh, let me tell him. Please.” Her green eyes were sparkling with mirth.
    I wrinkled my nose at her. “Go ahead,” I said, “but the next time you find a rodent using your basement as a swimming pool, you’re on your own.”
    She grinned at me. “No, I’m not.”
    â€œSomebody tell me,” Nic urged.
    Maggie turned sideways so she could see both me and Nic. “Like Kathleen said, there was a lot of flooding in the downtown two springs ago, and there was about four feet of water