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Let’s face it, Sunny added silently. Martin Rigsdale was not a nice guy. He cheated on you, he was probably cheating on his new girlfriends, no doubt he cheated his patients—he cheated the Ukrainian mob, for heaven’s sake. You can be sad that things didn’t turn out as you might have hoped, even mad at the guy. But that’s about as much as you should invest in Martin. If Trumbull finds whoever murdered him, fine. But if it remains an unsolved mystery forever, it’s not gonna break my heart.

Jane might not be sure about distracting Mark Trumbull, but she was apparently willing to be distracted herself. “I still can’t get over seeing Toby—Tobe—after all these years,” she exclaimed. “He looks good.”

“And since he’s in court all day, I guess he’s either overcome or outgrown his old problem.”

Jane’s mouth dropped open. “Yikes! I’d forgotten all about that.”

Sunny looked at her in disbelief. “You forgot that we nicknamed him Toby P. Philpotts, because he always had pee in his middle?”

“Stop it!” Jane begged, trying to stifle giggles. Then she got thoughtful. “Is that a problem you can outgrow?”

“I bet they have pills for it now,” Sunny told her. “‘Ask your doctor if Pee-no-more is right for you.’”

“Or maybe there’s something to do with tubing,” Jane suggested. “Like a stadium buddy.”

“Don’t even start going there,” Sunny warned her. “My dad drove over half of the Northeast, delivering salt. When I asked him about bathroom breaks, he told me about the trucker’s very personal assistant. All the fun of a catheter, but with a—ah—external connection, if you catch my drift.”

Jane made a face. “Gross!”

“Says the lady who tells stories about vomiting dogs while we’re trying to eat lunch,” Sunny said. “I guess the device probably exists. What I don’t know is if my dad actually used it, or if he just used the story to keep me out of his dresser drawers.”

“I’d say that would work—either way,” Jane replied with a grin. Her tone changed as she went on. “Let’s hope that Tobe’s problem is history. From what we saw, he grew up to be a really nice guy—as well as a nice-looking one.”

Oh, wonderful. That critical voice from the back of Sunny’s head joined the conversation. Now we’re back in high school talking about what’s gross and who’s cute?

Sunny squelched the complaints. She’d rather hear Jane talking like this instead of rehashing old fights with Martin or stressing over Trumbull. “Yeah,” she agreed, “Tobe does seem nice.”

“I wonder if he’s available,” Jane idly asked.

“Oh, come on,” Sunny said. “You didn’t check his finger or do the office once-over? How out of practice are you?”

“And I suppose you got the full story, Ms. Ace Reporter?” Jane shot back.

“I noticed that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and that there were no pictures of a wife or kids on his desk or bookcase.”

“So—what?” Jane asked. “He’s single?”

“Maybe, though from what I understand, single guys don’t usually become law partners,” Sunny objected. “If a person is going to be that involved in a firm, the other partners want to make sure he’s settled.” She shrugged. “Or he may be just very, very good at what he does, and they wanted to keep him. You mentioned your marriage and your divorce, which gave him an opening. He did say that he’d seen worse divorces than yours, but he didn’t add anything personal there.”

“So what’s the bottom line on his availability?” Jane pressed.

Sunny shrugged her shoulders and threw out her hands. “Insufficient information.” She grinned at Jane. “But probably worth more research.”

Jane laughed, but shook her head. “If you’re anything to go by, I’d have to say that reporters are very, very strange.”

But we have needs, too, Sunny thought. If you’re chasing Will Price, can’t I go after Tobe?

That was something she couldn’t say out loud. Sunny picked her words carefully. “Speaking of distractions, you’d better remember that Tobe is your lawyer. He’s got to keep his eyes open and his mind clear for the duration.”

“Oh, come on.” Jane’s cheeks got a little pink. “That’s something that even these guys in the cages know about. Don’t poop where you eat.”

“I don’t think pooping is the activity I’d worry about,” Sunny told her.

Jane’s face got pinker. “Okay, point taken. Sheesh.”