It was a little after four-thirty when we arrived. Sage was pacing the living room, muttering, “If he caught a case right before he was supposed to leave…”
“I didn’t,” Mike replied, closing the front door behind him. “Traffic sucks, and it’s a damned Sunday.” He shook his head, paused to kiss Sage, then went into the kitchen. When he returned, he had a cup of coffee. “I presume everyone’s present and accounted for,” he said as he sat at one end of the sofa.
“Yep.” Sage settled at the other end. Brody and Jon were seated in the armchairs, while I was perched on the edge of a dining room chair Sage had moved between the armchairs.
“All right, let’s get started. Tonio, did anyone say anything which seemed off to you?”
“Yeah, the whole thing with David and someone in the dressing room. The
