Brrrring! Bessie’s mother, Heather, in her housecoat and mop of red curls, heads to the front door at the sound of the bell. “Who can that be, I wonder, so early on a Sunday morning?”
BrrrringShe soon finds out. “Detective Pederssen!” Holding the door wide, she adds, “Come in.”
The tall flaxen-haired man, in off-duty black jeans and black wool peacoat, steps into the hall. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
Heather grins. “Not at all. There’s coffee in the kitchen. Always happy to see you after all you’ve done for us.” She leads the way to the back of the house.
He takes a seat beside Art and across from Leila. “Is Bessie home? I wanted to tell her the news in person.”
“She’s upstairs feeding her kitten,” her father says. He stands up, heading to the stairwell to call out, “Bessie, you’ve g
