Erin knew Bowie's nods were automatic-he was thinking about Blauvelt's murder, she knew, that or he was thinking about falling back into bed and sleeping around the clock. How to get more information out of him? Like, did they have any witnesses who'd seen her fall out of Caskie Royal's bathroom window? If so, had these witnesses described her?

She took a sip of her tea. "Georgie, you've told your father everything, down to the color of your socks. And you've eaten every stick of oatmeal."

"Oatmeal is gooey, Erin, there aren't any sticks."

"Hmm. Okay, you're stalling. Go brush your teeth and get your sweater, it's cool today." She waited until Georgie had cleared the kitchen door, then went for it. "That break-in at the Schiffer Hartwin headquarters, did it have anything to do with the German guy's murder? Wasn't he found right out behind the building?"

Bless her Polish great-granddad. It was the best oatmeal Bowie had ever eaten in his life. Actually, now that he thought about it, this was probably the only oatmeal he'd ever eaten. His mom hated the stuff, never made it for him or his siblings. "Break-in? Oh yeah, that was weird, truth be told."

"Why?"

He said after a moment of chewing and savoring, "I keep forgetting, you're a P.I. You've got terminal curiosity, don't you?"

If only you knew. She nodded easily. "You've got a point. Come on, Bowie, what was weird about the break-in? What was taken? Do you have any ideas who it could have been?"

Shut your mouth-too many questions, don't make him suspicious.

"All we know is it was a woman."

Had someone seen her running from the Schiffer Hartwin building? Not good, not good. "How do you know that?"

He took a last spoonful of oatmeal, sat back in the kitchen chair, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I do believe I've got my hundred-watt bulb back. That was delicious. Thank you, Erin. She went out a bathroom window that's too small for a guy."

How could I forget that wretched window was small? It's okay, then. Not a big deal. Was that all they knew?

Bowie rose when Georgie came skipping back into the small kitchen. "Thanks again for feeding me, Erin. I'll have Georgie work on you for the oatmeal recipe. Hey, you ready, kiddo?"

Georgie nodded and took his hand. "You look tired, Daddy. If you went to bed at eight o'clock like me, you wouldn't be."

"That's a fact," he said. He smiled at Erin. "Thank you for taking Georgie in. I hope she didn't give you any grief after you called me last night at bedtime?"

"Not a bit, particularly since it was well after eight o'clock when I found out when her bedtime actually was. Well, maybe I did threaten to make her do barre exercises if she wanted to stay up so late." Erin head-rubbed Georgie, and the little girl laughed and ran out of the kitchen.

"I'm going to have the strongest legs in ballet class!"

Erin waited a moment until she heard Georgie at the front door. "This murder and break-in deal, you think you'll get it solved pretty soon?"

"Oh, you're wondering how long you'll have to keep my kid as a roommate?"

No, you idiot, Georgie can stay here forever. "Yeah, I stewed about it all night. She's such a trial. No, of course not, Georgie's just fine. Forget reevaluating tomorrow, okay? Unless you think you'll have everything figured out by noon, hotshot that you are?"

"Maybe, we'll see. The big fed hotshots sent to run the investigation, turns out they're pretty okay."

"That's lucky. Now there are three hotshots cleaning things up here. Do you know, I ran into a fed once on a case and I would have sworn he wanted to pull off his wingtip and bash me with it."

He grinned, as she'd meant him to. "Did you smart-mouth him?"

"Nah, well, maybe a little bit. The jerk. So these guys are smart?"

"There are two of them, they're married of all things. The guy, Dillon Savich, he's big and tough-looking, and he's got a look about him that would scare anyone with a brain. Sherlock, his wife, she's pretty, sweet smiles she uses very effectively, but you know in your gut she'd kick your butt all the way to Vermont if you crossed her. I'm meeting them at the police station now to talk things over."

He looked better, she thought, his eyes clear, back straighter, more focused now. Yeah, Mr. Hundred-Watt was back.

"What's wrong? Do I still look like crap?"

"No, I was thinking you look human again-the wonders of Scottish oatmeal. Have a good day, Bowie. Will you be coming by tonight before Georgie's in bed?"