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would be there just as soon as the detective lets us leave.”
    The owner carried a plate of cinnamon rolls into the room. He slid it on the table and looked at Francine and Jonathan. “Can I get you coffee too?”
    Jonathan nodded eagerly. “Strong and black, please.”
    The man brought more cups and poured coffee in them. He saw Joy fiddling with her cell phone. “If you need the Internet password, it’s on the menu.”
    She thanked him and he left. She bit into a cinnamon roll. “These may be good,” she whispered, “but they are nowhere near as flaky and gooey as Mary Ruth’s.”
    Francine cut a piece for herself and handed the rest of it to Jonathan. “No matter how good they look, I can’t afford too many of these calories, not with the temptation we’ll face at the food booth. If we ever get there.”
    Joy’s phone made a dinging sound. She checked it. “It’s an email from Mary Ruth.” Everyone quieted down and watched her read the message. “Oh my gosh! She says there’s a huge line already and she keeps delaying opening. She wants to know when we’re going to get there.” Joy put the phone down. “She sounds frantic.”
    â€œBut she’s got Alice and Toby helping her,” Marcy said. Alice had become an investor in Mary Ruth’s catering business and was learning the trade. Toby was Mary Ruth’s grandson who lived in her basement while he tried to figure out what to do with his life. “It must be desperate if the three of them can’t handle it.”
    Joy put the last bite of cinnamon roll in her mouth and wiped the icing off her lips. She handed the cell phone to Marcy. “Email her back and tell her to keep frying up as many of those corn fritter donuts as she can ahead of time. We may have to drag Charlotte out of here.” She went over and stood next to Detective Stockton. “We need to leave,” she said. “We’ve got to get to Rockville.”
    He smiled but seemed not to be in a hurry. He picked up the Volunteer Witness Form she had turned in. “You’re Joy McQueen, aren’t you? The reporter on Channel Six?”
    She gave him a high wattage smile. “Yes, that’s me.”
    He used a wave of his hand to indicate the rest of the group. “And you all are the Skinny-Dipping Grandmas, correct?”
    Jonathan put his cup down. “Not me.”
    â€œSorry. I meant the ladies.”
    The women all nodded. Francine didn’t know where this was headed but she hoped it would get them out of the café and back to Rockville as quickly as possible.
    Joy continued, “Our friend Mary Ruth is being featured at the festival. So you can understand how important it is that we get back to help her out.”
    â€œThen why would you be out here in the Rosedale area in the early morning instead of back in Rockville helping your friend?”
    Joy shifted her eyes toward the group. “I’m doing segments all week long about the Covered Bridge Festival. We were here filming one this morning.”
    â€œWith a horse and carriage?”
    â€œWell, we …”
    â€œIt’s my fault,” Francine spoke up. “My ancestors were from the area, and the Roseville Bridge played a part in a scandal from the early 1900s. I thought it would be fun to hire a horse and buggy and re-create a scene from the scandal, but we didn’t want to do it when there were a lot of tourists around. Who would have thought something like this would happen?”
    After she finished, she bit her lip. Too much detail , she thought. It sounded rehearsed. I wonder if he thinks we’re hiding something.
    Stockton tilted back in the seat, balancing it on two legs. “Given your recent troubles, I would have thought you might anticipate it.” His crooked smile indicated was probably jesting, but Francine wasn’t sure.
    â€œSo can we go?” she