disappeared. "Thanks. Where'd you learn how to do that?"
"Oh, we Italians know all sorts of useless things."
"We Southerners know a lot of useless things too." She laughed. "But that wasn't so useless. You saved me a lot of pain."
Phil bowed his head and folded his hands. He whispered words Kathryn couldn't discern and nodded several times. He was praying? She wouldn't have guessed he was a man of faith. Since he was, he must be trustworthy.
Phil looked up, opened the bag, and pulled out a colossal cinnamon roll.
Kathryn burst into laughter. "You're going to get so fat eating like that."
"They're good!"
"I know they are. But they'd be the death of my waistline."
"No, you're so thin; it'd take a lot to kill your figure."
Kathryn froze mid-slurp. Had her heart stopped beating? This guy was slicker than her driveway on an icy winter morning. She had better proceed with caution, or she’d be metaphorically hydroplaning in no time.
He wiped icing away from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, his cheeks a touch rosier than before he'd made that comment. So the big New Yorker could blush after all. His beard couldn't disguise his embarrassment. "Did you figure out anything more on your case?"
Kathryn shook her head. "I studied the files for hours. I think the weapon, a .22 caliber pistol, is hidden somewhere out there." She pointed to the Gulf.
"What?"
"Witnesses say it was transported here, and the evidence was washed away. So far, we've found no connection between the suspect and Cedar Key."
"I'm glad to help, if you'd like me to look over your file."
Her gaze traced his face, landed on his lips, and then returned to his eyes. Was he trustworthy? It didn't matter. She couldn't ask for help from such a new acquaintance. "Thanks, it's classified. I hope you understand."
"Absolutely." He smiled and shoved the last bite of his cinnamon roll into his mouth. "How long have you been practicing law?”
“About five years, not counting law school internships.”
He licked his fingers. “What’s been your most interesting or memorable case to date?”
“Besides the one I’m working on now?” Kathryn sipped on her drink and followed a boat from the yacht club pier until it disappeared behind the buildings on Dock Street. “I guess I’d have to say the Clark Buchanan case out of South Carolina. He was in exports but made most of his money exporting drugs. He was arrested in Georgia and let out on bail until his trial. He went home to his wife, Cora, but took off one night and was never seen again. Until he turned up dead, that is.”
Phil’s eyes widened. “Dead?”
“Yes, someone he owed a chunk of money to came after him and shot him down.”
“How long ago was this?”
“Just last year. I spoke with his wife, and she’d left town just before he was killed. I was afraid that whoever killed him would come after her.”
“Did they?”
“No, she ended up at a ranch in South Georgia and later married the owner’s son. They own a B&B. I’ve often thought about stopping by sometime and meeting her. In fact, I might do that on my way home.”
“Sounds like an interesting case.” Phil tossed his sack in a nearby trash can. “So do you talk to Maria much?"
Kathryn choked on her drink. This man was going to be the death of her. If he wanted to know about Maria, why didn't he just call her himself? "No, I haven't spoken with her since she moved back to New York. She sort of erased Georgia from her mind."
"I guess it's easy to do when there are bigger and better things waiting on you. I'm glad I missed that train wreck. Lucky for me, I moved to Savannah right before she returned to New York."
"I'm sorry she did that to you."
He removed the cap from his water bottle and gulped the drink down. "Don't be. I dodged a big bullet."
"Really?"
"Yes, definitely! If we'd married, we'd probably be divorced by now. Or she'd still be cheating on me."
"I wish I'd known it was going on. I would've said