Chapter 7

The man—Jim—shook his head. “No, no, I was in your way. Forgive me.”

Before Alan could say anything further, Jim followed his partner through the crowd and was gone.

“Mr. Travers?”

This from a tentative voice behind him. Alan turned and found a server behind the counter holding out a cup he supposed held his double espresso. His seconddouble.

Alan felt all discombobulated. He patted his pockets, trying to find his wallet. “I’m sorry.” He wondered if that would be his mantra all day. Sorry, sorry.“Let me pay for that.”

“You already did, sir,” the server replied.

“Right, that was for the one I spilled.” There was his wallet, tucked into the same pocket of his overcoat as the newspaper. No wonder he hadn’t felt it at first. “Let me pay for his second muffin, too. How much do I owe you?”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that. Detective Farrow took care of it.”

Alan frowned. “Detective…?”