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placed my feet against the large metal plate. Pushing up a little to relieve the pressure, I flipped the prop bars outward, and let the plate push my knees to my chest. I pushed, and felt everything tighten in a surprisingly relaxing way as I exhaled. Legs to chest, inhale. Legs out straight, exhale. Over and over, until the set was done and I could add another pair of forty-fives.
    Toward the end of my workout, I realized I should be feeling proud that I had successfully completed my first assignment as a private investigator. Somehow, television and the film industry had not prepared me for the mundane satisfaction of detecting a thief. I hadn’t gotten to run after anyone waving a gun; the police hadn’t threatened me; Mel Brinkman hadn’t tried to sleep with me. Could it be I had been misled by the media?
    As I pondered this, I noticed that Byron had been so anxious to start spreading the “news” about Mandy that he’d actually gotten the glass spray out and begun cleaning some of the mirrors that lined the gym walls. This brought him into murmuring distance of some of his cronies and the many sideways glances at me were a clear indication that my brush with Mandy was being mythologized.
    At least I’d gotten some good workouts, being on this job. I wondered how long Mel would want me to work after this; this might be the last time I’d have to come to Marvel Gym.
    Jack picked me up at the end of my shift. I was so glad to see him it made me feel almost silly. Jack is about five foot ten, his hair is still all black, and his eyes are hazel. He has a scar, a very thin one—a razor scar—running from the hairline close to his right eye down to his jawline. It puckers a very little. He has a narrow, strong nose and straight eyebrows. He’s been a private detective since he got urged to resign from the Memphis Police Department about five years ago.
    â€œI like the outfit,” he said, as we walked to his car.
    â€œIn this heat, I feel like one big smell,” I said. “I want to shower and put on something cotton and loose.”
    â€œYes, ma’am. You just happy to see me, or did something interesting happen at the gym?”
    â€œA little bit of both.”
    When we were in the car and on our way back to Shakespeare, the town where I’ve lived for five years, I began to tell Jack about my day. “So it was Mandy Easley all along,” I concluded. “I guess I found myself a little disappointed.”
    â€œYou just want to catch Byron doing something,” Jack said. I turned, huffing in exasperation, in time to catch the amused curl of his lips flatten out into a serious expression.
    â€œBeing a stupid jerk isn’t a jailable offense,” I admitted.
    â€œJails wouldn’t be big enough,” Jack agreed.
    â€œWhat will happen now?”
    â€œI’ll call Mel when we get home.”
    While Jack was on the phone, I peeled off the nasty unitard and dropped it in the hamper. The shower, in the privacy of my own bathroom, cramped as it was, was just as wonderful as I had anticipated. Drying off was sheer bliss. I fluffed up the wet blond curls that clung to my head, I checked to make sure I’d gotten my legs very smooth, and I put on a lot of deodorant and skin cream before I came out to join Jack. He was putting steaks in a marinade. We didn’t eat much beef.
    â€œSpecial occasion?”
    â€œYou caught your first thief.”
    â€œAnd you’re going to congratulate me with dead cow?”
    He put down the pan and eyed me with some indignation. “Can you think of a better way?”
    â€œAh…yes.”
    â€œAnd that would be?”
    â€œYou’re slow on the uptake today,” I said critically, and took off my robe.
    He caught on right away.
    Â 
    We’d returned to Shakespeare too late to attend karate class, so later that night we took a walk. Jack had spent most of the day sitting down, and