"Well-" I stopped. Okay, fine, when he put it that way, it did sound a little dumb. Maybe we should have stopped with the handbag thing.

Officer Frank had already turned his attention back to his fruit fly, and Lori appeared to be considering stabbing him in the eyeball with his own tweezers. With a sigh, I grabbed my sister's elbow and hoisted her up.

"Fine," I said. "Thank you for your time. I'll let you know if I uncover anything else that might be relevant to the case."

"Case?"

"And because you at least tried to be helpful, I'll pay extra special attention to any fruit flies I encounter in the course of my work."

"Oh. Well, that's very kind-"

"But I've gotta tell you," I continued, "if you think I'm just going to let this handbag thing die, you really don't know me at all."

He blinked at me. "What was your name again?"

CHAPTER SIX.

I spent the rest of my weekend laying low.

There were no calls from Daniel, who was busy playing in a corporate golf tournament out of town.

Only Lori kept my phone ringing. Repeatedly.

"I still haven't heard from Macy," she told me on Sunday, her voice a little strained. "I've left like six messages, but she's not calling me back."

"Was she planning any trips?"

"She never really plans it," Lori said. "She just does it."

"Well, does she answer her cell when she's gone?"

"Sometimes. Not if she's at a spa retreat or staying in a monastery or-"

"Got it. Well, should we check with her family?"

Lori was quiet for a moment. "Her family. What's the etiquette there? I mean, can you just pick up the phone and call a mob boss?"

"We don't actually know he's a mob boss."

"Right. I guess it's only been a couple days. And she's done this before."

"Like that time she couldn't find saffron at the grocery store so she decided to fly to India."

"Or that time she decided she wanted to buy a sailboat in Australia," Lori added, giggling a little. "I still have the kangaroo testicles she brought me."

By the time we hung up the phone, we had agreed not to panic just yet for all the good that did us. It was clear we were both growing worried. Had Macy uncovered something tied to counterfeit handbags? Something worth harming her over?

Or was she just being her normal flaky self?

By Monday morning I was quite eager to get on with the business of smashing and packing. The garbage trucks cycled through all morning, bringing me mounds of fresh trash to crush beneath my wheels. Though I had never sought professional therapy, I suspected this was very much the same thing, only without the co-pay or the couch.

It also didn't hurt having a hot male secretary to ogle every time I passed Pete's desk on my way to the ladies room.

When lunchtime rolled around, I gobbled up my leftover pizza in a hurry, eager to take Burt up on his offer to escort me to Ernie's little thrift store on the northwest corner of the landfill property.

As Burt pulled his 1960 International pickup to the front of the shop, I felt my heart speed up. It wasn't that I was so thrilled at the prospect of sorting through used table lamps and waffle irons. It was the fact that Collin's little 4WD Ranger was parked outside.

"What's he doing here?" I asked, irritation making my palms clammy. I was so not in the mood for being treated like a terrorist spy with leprosy.

"Who, Collin?" Burt asked, wiping his nose on the back of his hand as he got out of the truck.

I sat rooted to my seat, startled when Burt yanked my door open and offered me a hand down.

"Um, thanks," I said, hesitating only a moment.

I stumbled when my feet hit the ground, and Burt reached out and caught me, steadying me by the arm. We made our way toward the front door together.

"Collin repairs small engines for fun in his spare time, he's probably just browsing on his lunch break," Burt said, holding the door open for Green Barbie, who teetered out in high heels and a flesh-colored miniskirt, holding a box of recycled plastic against her equally plastic breasts. Burt tipped his hat politely, seemingly unmoved by the display. I felt my admiration for him swell.

I nodded a greeting to Green Barbie before turning back to Burt, still digesting the information about Collin. "He collects advanced college degrees and builds machines for fun," I said slowly. "Does he have any hobbies that normal people would consider fun?"

Burt looked at me and grinned.

"Never mind," I said, moving past him and into the store.

The second I walked through the doors, I was assaulted by Ernie's squeal of delight.

"JJ! It's so great to see you. Burt said he'd be bringing you by at lunchtime, so I made a special effort to take lunch a little early today even though I sometimes get heartburn if I eat before noon, but I really wanted to show you around today and let you get a feel for the place, maybe check out our bargain rack over there in the corner-"

"I'm happy to see you, too, Ernie," I said, really meaning it as she wrapped me in a giant bear hug. "I can't wait to see everything you do here. I've heard a lot about this place."

Ernie grabbed hold of my arm and began towing me around, pointing out the different sections of the store where she stocked cast-off construction supplies, repaired household appliances, and clothing.

She showed me the area where she painstakingly cleaned and disinfected all potential merchandise, gluing the legs back onto chairs, scrubbing grime off kitchen gadgets, stitching arms and legs back onto tattered stuffed animals.

She dragged me down a long aisle packed with kids' toys and around a corner where more toys teetered on rickety shelves.

It was there that we ran smack dab into Collin. Literally, as it turned out.

"Ouch," I said, jumping back and rubbing my forehead.

Collin leapt back too, bumping a remote control car off an end-cap at the corner. The car toppled off the shelf, and Collin caught it without even looking.

"Blimey!" Collin set the car beside a doll that appeared to have mange. "You have a head like a footballer."

"Are you always such a flatterer?"

"Are you always so insistent on not watching where you're going?"

"Yes," I replied, figuring it was the easiest answer for the moment.

Not to mention true.

"What is that?" I asked, pointing at a device in his hand that looked vaguely like a Taser gun. It could have been a prop from Bionic Cyber Cops in Monster Trucks.

Collin held up the device so I could take a closer look. "It's an x-ray fluorescence analyzer."

"Of course it is. I left mine at home this morning or we could have compared."

He didn't actually smile, but he did stop frowning. I decided to count that as a point in my favor.

"It measures the levels of lead present in various objects," he said, glancing down at the device and flicking a button. "The wheels on this toy car, for example, test well below the legal limit of 600 parts per million, whereas the paint on that toy train tests at nearly 1400."

I started to pick up the toy before thinking better of it. "Is this another one of your hobbies?"

"The U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission sets limits on the amount of lead and phthalates allowed in products for anyone under age twelve. I routinely test all the children's merchandise in the store."

Ernie beamed at him. "Store owners can face $100,000 fines or jail time if they screw it up, so I'm glad he does it. He even inspected my whole storage area for that nasty mold they've been talking about on the news."

Collin looked down at the fluorescence analyzer thingy and flipped a switch, clearly more intrigued by the device than my presence. Having owned several high quality vibrators, I could relate.

"So what brings you out here?" he asked, not bothering to look up.

It took me a moment to remember, fixated as I was on thoughts of vibrators and Collin's gun.

"Oh," I said, regrouping. "Burt mentioned the other day that Ernie maybe had some fake designer handbags out here. I wanted to take a look."

"Oh, why yes," Ernie said, visibly flustered. "Burt told me about the fabric you found out there and what you think is happening and how terrible those fake purses are. We had a great big family dinner just last night and I was telling everyone what you said about the sweatshops and terrorists and the children in the factories, and when Adam heard how it hurts designers like your sweet little sister, he was just so upset, and then he mentioned that Lori's intern was looking into things and now no one's heard from her and-"

"Right," I said, grateful that Burt had passed along the information so I didn't have to be the bearer of bad news. "I was just wondering if you had any of those handbags on the shelves right now."

"You know, I had three of them this morning, but a woman came in and bought them all." She gave me a sheepish look. "I was planning to pull them out of my inventory, but I had some lady troubles earlier and had to spend some extra time in the bathroom taking care of business, so one of my volunteers was covering the counter for awhile and that's when the bags sold, just like that, all gone-"

She snapped her fingers, and I seized the opportunity to get a word in. "That's okay," I said. "Were those the only ones you had?"

"Well, let me just take a look at some of the things I've got set aside for repairs," she said, shuffling toward the back room. "Maybe if there's something missing a button or needing a little stitching, I might've put it in the back room."

Ernie disappeared into a small room. As she vanished inside, I felt someone moving behind me. I sensed it was Collin, but didn't turn around. Maybe if I was very lucky, he'd just go away.

"I know I had something in here-" Ernie called, her voice muffled from inside the room.

"It's okay, Ernie, I don't want to create any trouble for you," I yelled back.

Behind me, I heard Collin clear his throat. "So you're not here to cause trouble?" he asked in a low voice.

I turned around and looked at him. His expression was unreadable.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, my pulse speeding up.

Collin shrugged and picked up a small toy truck on the counter. "Just gauging your intent."

"My intent is to find out whether somebody local is making counterfeit handbags."

"I see," he said, and set the truck down. He went back to fiddling with his x-ray fluorescence thingamajiggy, his shoulders rigid. "I noticed you out near the south flare station the other day."

He kept his eyes down on the gun, his fingers adjusting some sort of switch.

"Flare station?" I said, confused. "Burt was showing it to me, explaining how the landfill burns off methane."

"You were alone."

I thought back, trying to remember. "I thought I dropped an earring when I was there with Burt. I went back later to look."

"I see," Collin said again, still not looking up.

I watched him for a moment, trying to figure out just what he was implying.

"Look, Collin," I said, trying to keep the tension from my voice. "It seems like you have some sort of problem with me. If you've got something to say-"

"Here we go!" Ernie announced triumphantly, marching out of the back room with the most hideous knockoff I'd ever seen. She came around the counter and held it out to me like a prize, her expression eager.

"I was doing a little research online, but I just have no idea how to tell if this is real or not," she said as I took the bag from her. "Kate Spade is a good brand though, right?"

"Right," I said, regrouping a little to focus on the handbag. "But this isn't Kate Spade."

"It's not?"

"Nope. Sorry. You learn a lot about handbags when you're an avid collector whose sister designs them," I said. "For starters, Kate Spade has never made a denim bag."

"Really?"

"And see how the stitching is a little crooked here around the label? Plus this style of bag would normally have little feet on the bottom and much nicer hardware than this has."

"So it's fake," Ernie said, sounding scandalized. "What should I do with it?"

"Well, it's illegal to knowingly sell a counterfeit bag, so don't do that." I handed the bag back to her, and she stared like I was offering a live grenade. She finally took it, gingerly holding it by the strap. "I know Harper's Bazaar has a web site called Fakes Are Never In Fashion," I added. "They encourage readers to send old counterfeit bags and tell their stories. There's also a group called the International Anti-Counterfeiting Coalition that might have suggestions."

Ernie glanced down at the bag, looking determined. "I'll do some research," she said, smiling back up at me. "Thanks, JJ."

"No sweat. Would you mind giving me a call if any other bags turn up?"