Both sows jumped, eyeing her. Blayne motioned to the tea shop Marci had just exited. “How about an all-natural honey bun. Yum. I love honey buns. Don’t you?”

“I don’t know, Blayne,” Kerry-Ann confessed. “I have been dieting lately.”

“Why bother?” Marci sneered. “Nothing will help to make that fat head of yours smaller.”

“All right then!” Blayne put her arm around Marci’s shoulders, going up on her toes to do so, and practically dragged her “personal physician” into the tea shop. “Yum. Smell those honey buns. Are those fresh?” she asked Lorna Harper.

“Right out of the oven. And,” Lorna said, smiling, “sugar-free. Just for you.”

“Oh, my God,” Blayne said sincerely. “You guys are so sweet.” She pointed at a table. “You two sit down, and I’ll help Lorna bring everything over.”

Snarling at each other, the two sows headed over to the table, but Blayne caught Marci’s arm. “Be nice,” she whispered.

“But—”

“I get tense when people get pissy. Unless you want me chasing my tail or hiding under that chair over there . . . be nice!”

Marci agreed and walked away, and Blayne leaned over the counter as Lorna placed a tray filled with honey buns and decaffeinated tea—again, just for Blayne—in front of her. “What’s going on?” Blayne whispered.

“Knowing that Kerry-Ann, she’s about to ask you for a favor. Kind of the same way they do it in The Godfather, I imagine.”

“Will it involve me killing anyone?”

“Doubtful.” Lorna laughed. “But it will probably involve that Bold Novikov.” Lorna leaned in closer, Blayne following suit, and she whispered, “She’s been bragging around town how she can get your Bold to play with the team against the Canadian bears. Just a friendly game, mind, but that boy never did anything to help anyone but himself.”

Blayne wanted to argue with Lorna, but she couldn’t. Although after spending a little time in Ursus County she understood why Bo was that way.

“You do know,” Blayne felt the need to explain, “he’s not my Bo?”

“That’s not what Marci Luntz told us earlier.”

Small towns. Blayne loved visiting them, but she wasn’t sure she could live in them full-time. Everyone was in everyone else’s business. Something she would never do . . . unless her help was needed. Then, of course, she’d get involved.

Picking up the tray, Blayne walked over to the table.

“Now, dear—” Kerry-Ann began, but Blayne cut her off.

“I’ll help you on one condition.”

The shrewd She-bear glanced over at Marci as if to say, “Told ya so.”

“And what would that one condition be, dear?”

“You stop calling Bo ‘Speck.’”

That didn’t seem to be the response the sow had been expecting, immediately trying to defend herself and the entire town. “Well, it’s just a nickname. We all have them and—”

“He doesn’t like it. And it seems kind of mean to me. I hate mean and I don’t help mean people. Because mean people upset me.” She placed the tray on the table. “You wouldn’t want me upset would you, Superintendent?”

The sow slumped back in her chair. “You’re a sobber, aren’t ya, Blayne Thorpe?”

“I prefer the term sensitive.”

“Took you long enough in the bathroom,” Grigori complained as they walked into town. “You’re like a woman.”

“According to my girlfriend, Blayne”—his uncle growled—“I’m supposed to let the conditioner sit for fifteen minutes.”

“Conditioner?”

“Yes. According to my girlfriend, Blayne—”

“What are you? Twelve?”

“—I need better conditioner than that combo stuff you use. I need all-natural with no silicones so that I can have a beautiful shiny mane.”

“You cannot be my brother’s son. You can’t be.”

“She also says—this is my girlfriend Blayne again—that by putting in a little more effort on my hair, I won’t have to worry about that receding hairline that you’re currently dealing with.”

Bo easily ducked the swipe of that big arm and grinned. “Gettin’ a little slow in your dotage.”

“And you’re becoming a smart ass.”

They hit town, heading toward the police chief ’s office on Main Street. As they walked, the locals passed and each one greeted them with, “Mornin’ Grigori . . . Bold.”

After the fifth time, Bo stopped, his uncle turning to face him.

“What?”

“Why are they all calling me Bold?”

“That’s your name, idiot. Or are you starting to forget after too many pucks to the head?”

“I don’t forget anything, which is why I know something is up. No one in this town calls me Bold but you and Dr. Luntz.”

“Can’t you try calling her Marci? She takes it so personally when you don’t.”

Bo’s eye twitched. “When did you start caring about how Dr. Luntz takes anything?”

“That’s none of your goddamn business, boy.”

“Since when?”

“Why are we arguing about this?” Grigori bellowed.

“I don’t know!” Bo bellowed back.