Crossing to the closet, I hung up my lab coat and emptied the pockets. Emptied my libido.

When I returned, Ryan was on his feet, but again staring at Kessler’s photo.

“Think any of your paleo pals might recognize this?”

“I can make a few calls.”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

At the door Ryan turned and flashed his brows.

“See you later?”

“Wednesday’s my tai chi night.”

“Tomorrow?”

“You’re on.”

Ryan pointed one finger and winked. “Tap pants.”

My Montreal condo is on the ground floor of a U-shaped low-rise. One bedroom, one study, two baths, living-dining room, a walk-through kitchen narrow enough to stand at the sink and pivot to reach the fridge behind you.

Through one kitchen archway, I cross a hall to French doors opening onto a central courtyard. Through the other kitchen archway, I cross through a living room to French doors opening onto a tiny enclosed yard.

Stone fireplace. Nice woodwork. Ample closets. Underground parking.

Nothing fancy. The building’s selling point is that it’s smack downtown. Centre-ville. Everything I need is within two blocks of my bed.

Birdie didn’t appear at the sound of my key.

“Hey, Bird.”

No cat.

“Chirp.”

“Hey, Charlie.”

“Chirp. Chirp.”

“Birdie?”

“Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.” Wolf whistle.

Stuffing my coat into the closet, I dropped my laptop in the study, deposited my take-out lasagna in the kitchen, and continued through the far archway.

Birdie was in his sphinx pose, legs tucked, head up, front paws curled inward. When I joined him on the love seat, he glanced up, then refocused on the cage to his right.

Charlie tipped his head and eyed me through the bars.

“How are my boys?” I asked.

Birdie ignored me.

Charlie hopped to his seed dish and gave another wolf whistle followed by a chirp.

“My day? Tiring, but disaster-free.” I didn’t mention Kessler.