After tracking the woman's progress outside, I started to turn back when something near where the barista landed on the floor reflected the overhead lights. A small glass bottle with a label.

"So, your cute cat, Detective," the barista said.

I flicked my gaze to his, pretending I hadn't noticed the bottle. "Yeah?"

"Is your cat here, or did he chase after the guy who knocked me down?"

"He's chasing after him, no doubt," I lied. "It's a crime to knock baristas ...