“Sorry. You caught me off guard. Is Mr. Thompson around?”
“I’m sorry, but he’s out of town,” she said.
“I see. May I ask who you are and what you’re doing in his house during his absence?”
“Excuse me?” She frowned. “Who are you? I don’t have to tell you anything… unless… are you a cop?”
Harry shook his head. “Former detective… retired. I just stopped by to see if someone might be using his house without permission. A friend of his saw lights and was concerned.”
“Oh!” She swung the door open further. “That’s why you’ve been sitting out there in your truck for the past half hour. I’m sorry for any confusion, Mr… ?”
“Hogan.” Out of pure instinct, he held out his new ID, attesting that he was now a Private Detective.
She glanced at it briefly before backing away from the door. “Please come in and sit down, Mr. Hogan. I can’t stand here like this for very long. I still tire easily.”
Thirty minutes later, Harry returned to his truck, chuckling to himself. Max was going to be pleased with himself over the fact that he had been right about seeing the light, and what he had overheard. But he would probably be a bit disappointed to learn there was no spy or terrorist plot.
***********************************************
Harry had just finished supper when Max showed up on his doorstep once again. “Well, what did you find out?”
“Come in, Max.” Harry poured coffee into two mugs and handed one to his guest as they both sat down.
Max sat on the edge of his seat. ‘Did you go over to Thompson’s place?”
“Yes, I went over there this morning,” Harry told him.
“Well, what did you find? I was right, wasn’t I?”
