Page 42 of Paws & Order

“It’s short for Theodore.”

His mouth twitches.

“You’ve named the ghost now?”

“I didn’t name him. His parents did.”

“We don’t know that Theodore is the ghost.”

“No, but if he is, Teddy suits him.”

Cassian’s expression says he’d like to argue, but doesn’t have enough evidence to win.

Gomez pads over to the blue tulip on the countertop, nose brushing the edge of the evidence bag.

A low purr rumbles in his throat.

Cassian’s shoulders ease just a little.

The afternoon settles in with zero fanfare.

No phones ring.

The mayor doesn’t summon me for emergency cupcake recon.

The mail lands in the slot without incident.

Normally, I’d text a friend, take Gomez for a loop around the park, or invent a bureaucratic crisis just to feel busy.

Today the only emergency is a dwindling tea stash and the prickly sense of being watched—not by a person, exactly, but by decades of whispered gossip.

At 3:12 p.m., I glance up from my laptop.

Cassian is still at the kitchen table, tracing old Sanborn fire-insurance maps with one finger.

Gomez snoozes on the couch, belly up, tail curled over his hind legs.

“You’re not heading back to the station?” I ask.

He shrugs without looking up.

“I’m on leave.”

“Paid?”

A rueful smile touches his mouth.

“Zadok won’t let me back until I clear this case. He wants his assistant back and I guess he believes this will motivate me.”

“Well, if you get restless, I have a century’s worth of building permits to digitize.”

He grunts.

Which is to say, he tilts his head like he’d rather wrestle a ghoul than tackle municipal paperwork.

But he stays.

As dusk falls and the lamps click on, he brews another pot of coffee and remains by my side.