Mike was about to head in to work when there was a knock on his front door. He checked, saw Sage standing there, and thought about leaving by the back door to avoid talking to him. Common decency and, he admitted to himself, curiosity about why Sage was there won out, so he opened the door.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Mike asked crisply.
“I run my own business. After last night…” He shrugged, admitting ruefully, “I slept in.”
“Lucky you. Why are you here?”
“Brody wanted me to ask if you could do something for him.”
Mike leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow lifted in question. “What?”
“Get Mr. Irwin’s rap sheet for him.”
“Did he say why?” Mike asked.
“No,” Sage replied.
Mike nodded. He suspected he knew why, anyway. Brody had died while trying to bring down a drug dealer. Irwi
