Soldier, she thinks. Maybe. The slight limp, the movements that look practiced or at least done the same way over and over. And the way he just leads her in and lets her be without indicating she should sit on the couch or tell her where the bathroom is. Those things actually remind her more of her father's university friends. Smartest people you could know, but a clear lack of social skills.

Soldier turned professor turned bee keeper?

She takes it upon herself to set her things down near the coffee table and take a seat on the couch. The table in front of her is piled with books and magazines of all kinds. Topics that don't seem to go together at all. He's certainly an interesting man whoever he is.

It's not until she spots the volume on Essential Forensic Biology that she puts his name into context, her head lifting up to watch him puttering in the kitchen.

No. It couldn't be. She'd read some of the stories of his detecting skills of the cases he'd solved. He was brilliant and famous. World famous even. But this couldn't be the same man.