I frown. “Strange.” “It is,” Charlie agrees, and I figure he’ll drop the matter. Until he sets course for the boathouse with the casual stride of a sightseer in Paris. Then he spins around, walking backwards, just to catch my gaze. “Are you coming or are you just going to stand there like a stupefied tree?” Solving a mystery with Charlie wasn’t on my bingo card today. But the invitation is all I need to accept the voyage. And the risk.
