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difficult.”
    Paige shrugged. “You reap what you sow. Back to business. What next?”
    “Let’s just go home,” Annie said.
    “Ruth Ramsey?” Sheila said to Paige, ignoring Annie. “Is she in the competition?”
    “I’m not sure. I’ll check on it. Hold on,” Paige said, pulling out her smart phone.
     “We all left the competition halfway through. I’m just not certain about who is in
     it.”
    Mr. and Mrs. Gregory passed by on their evening walk and mumbled a hello to the ladies.
    “But Ruth Ramsey? She’s so quiet,” Sheila said.
    “You know what they say. It’s the quiet ones you have to watch,” Annie said. “It’s
     getting late. How will we manage to reach her?”
    “Ruth? She works down at Marino’s every night,” Sheila said.
    “Let’s go,” Paige said.
    Annie grimaced, looking as if Marino’s was the worst place on earth.
    “What’s wrong?” Shelia asked.
    “Nothing. It’s just that I’m not fond of Marino’s. It’s where the local cops hang
     out,” Annie said.
    Paige shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me.”
    “We’re not doing anything illegal,” Sheila said. “We’re just trying to help DeeAnn.”
    But Annie frowned.
    When they walked into Marino’s, the place smelled of burgers and beer.
    “I’m hungry,” Paige said. “Let’s get a table.”
    The place was dimly lit. A group of men at the bar laughed about something on the
     television. A young couple held hands and shared fries in the corner.
    “I couldn’t eat this late in the day,” Sheila said.
    “I can. It’s not too late for me,” Paige said and slid into a booth. Annie and Sheila
     followed.
    “Me, too,” Vera said.
    The tables were faux wood, and the walls paneled. When Ruth walked up to the table
     to take their orders, she greeted them with a slanted smile.
    “Hey, ladies. What can I get you?” She held her pad and pen in her hands.
    “I want a burger with ketchup and pickles,” Paige said.
    Sheila and Annie each ordered a diet soda.
    “I’ll have some fries,” Vera said.
    “Be right back,” Ruth said.
    “Okay, so how do we handle this?” Sheila said.
    “She gets a break, doesn’t she?” Paige said.
    “We might be here awhile if we’re waiting for a break. I told Mike I wouldn’t be out
     too late,” Annie said, leaning forward.
    Ruth came to the table and gave them their drinks.
    “Everything okay?” she asked. Professional. Polite. Her colored red hair was pulled
     up in a loose bun, and her make-up was caked on, as if she were going to be onstage
     rather than waitressing.
    They all nodded, and she smiled. “Your burger and fries should be right up.”
    The women grouped closer together and watched her walk away.
    “What’s this little huddle about?” a male voice said, startling them.
    “Detective Bryant,” Sheila said. “How nice to see you.”
    Annie sank back into the corner of the booth seat; Paige sat up straighter.
    “Girl talk,” Paige said. “What are you doing here?”
    “Just having a beer with the guys. I’m off duty for a change,” he said and rocked
     back and forth on his feet. He wore a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It brought
     out his blue eyes, as well as the red tint of his skin, for he had been drinking.
    “Always good to see you,” Vera said with a tone that said, “Run along now, Detective.”
    “I heard this rumor,” he said and slid into the booth next to Sheila, who scooted
     away from his bulk.
    “Chasing rumors, are we?” Annie said. “Must be pretty slow for you these days.”
    “Not at all, Ms. Chamovitz,” he said, more than glancing in her direction. “But, anyway
     . . . ,” he said and placed his arm around the back of Sheila’s half of the seat.
     Sheila was visibly cringing. “About this rumor. I heard that you ladies were intimidating
     Macy Freed. She felt very threatened the other night.”
    Annie, Sheila, Vera, and Paige, dumbfounded, didn’t say a word but just looked at
     one another.
    “About some