Evvie walks over and pulls at my arm. "Get up, Glad. We're leaving." She faces the crowd, her look menacing. "Not one word out of anyone."

The would-be swimmers attempt to swallow their grins, not easy to do. Tessie continues to look back in the direction where Sol disappeared.

"Hey, lady PI, what about last night?" Hy asks me.

"What about last night?" I ask.

"Didn't Jack tell you? I thought you'd be the first to know."

Jack? No, Jack tells me nothing anymore. I sigh.

Evvie says, "Spit it out already. I need to go home and get some Extra Strength Tylenol."

Tessie shoots her a dirty look for her poor treatment of the man for whom she carries a torch.

Hy reports. "Late last night in Phase Six, Dora Dooley spotted the Peeper just about the time Jack got home. If he'd only been a couple of minutes earlier, he might have caught him."

What was Jack doing out so late? I wonder suspiciously. But then another thought occurs to me- Jack must have gone to Dora's apartment when she yelled for help. This makes me feel a tiny bit better. That's why he didn't answer his phone.

Lola adds, "He's her hero. He's so good to Dora, always there when she needs him."

I wish I could say the same thing, I think enviously.

"Jack promised he'd get Morrie to write up a report. I was sure he'd tell you since you're the big, important PI around here," says Hy. "You know . . . maybe in pillow talk?"

Now it's my turn to want to smack someone, but I restrain myself. "I'll check it out with him," I say stiffly.

By now Tessie is grubbing around in the wicker basket that Sol abandoned when he fled. "Hey, Evvie," she asks, "mind if I finish off your breakfast?"

"Be my guest," Evvie says, head high, walking off like a queen departing her loyal subjects.

I follow her. All I can think of is that now I have a real excuse to call Jack. On business.

EIGHT.

THE FERGUSONS.

INVESTIGATE US.

Alvin Ferguson stares probingly at my girls.

They stare back with varied expressions. Apparently, when he thought about the fact that Evvie and I had a.s.sociates, Mr. Picky decided he wanted to meet with them as well. So do we have that job yet? Now I'm not sure. Will he take back the retainer? We've already banked the check. Does he have a legal right to? This guy is going to be a pain in the neck.

Shirley sips a cup of tea at the dining room table, next to me, where we can easily watch the action taking place in the living room. Alvin has been interrogating the girls for twenty minutes. His wife has been smirking the whole time. I think she secretly enjoys how easily he irritates people.

Alvin began by asking Ida questions about her

family, which got her back up. She wasn't about to tell him she doesn't ever hear from them.

He wanted to know if Evvie had ever been to college, which she felt was none of his business. She said, "Yes, to the college of Life." She dared him with her eyes to question this, so he moved on.

He asked Sophie about her marital status. She didn't want to tell him she'd been married. Twice.

Now he is tackling Bella.

"But, Mrs. Fox, you can't see very well and you cannot hear very well-what can can you do?" you do?"

"I can . . . I can . . ." Bella is fl.u.s.tered. She looks to me for help.

"Mr. Ferguson, Bella is an excellent operative," I pipe up. "You'll have to take my word on that. All my a.s.sociates make up a great working team."

Bella is relieved to be off the hot seat.

Alvin doesn't look convinced.

Shirley smiles at my taking her bossy husband down a peg.

Alvin tries to save face. "Money is no object, as I've said before."

Shirley winces. It's obvious she would like to slap him, but he still holds the purse strings. "It won't bring your mother back, Alvin."

"I need to know the truth!"

The girls are practically panting-it looks like the job is in the bag.

I break in. "We'll get on the case right away."

"Done," he says. "You'll call when you need more money?"

Shirley closes her eyes. Giving away their money is too painful to watch.

Sophie and Bella pinch each other gleefully.

"What can you hope to accomplish?" Shirley says to me, after taking a few long, cleansing breaths to calm down. "Romeo certainly isn't going to confess to you, that's for sure."

"I honestly don't know. But our first goal is to find out everything we can about Philip Smythe."

"How long do you think this is gonna take?" She demands a closing date. They can't support this investigation forever.

Ida jumps in. "There's no way of knowing."

Evvie says smartly, "We have other clients, you know."

I say, "We're on your side, Mrs. Ferguson. We want answers quickly."

Shirley Ferguson stands. She's had enough.

"Wait," I say. "Is there anything else either of you can tell me that might shed some light on what could have happened between the two of them? Was Esther's behavior in any way unusual? Either before or after she met Philip Smythe?"

"Not that I can think of," Alvin says quickly.

"I can think of something," says Shirley, after a brief pause.

We all turn to look at her.

Shirley takes a cigarette out of her purse and slips it between her lips. She knows she can't smoke in here, but I guess it helps her feel a semblance of calm. "She changed her address."

When she has all our attention, she goes on. "After she met Philip, she wrote and told us that from that date on we were to write her at a P.O. Box number."

Alvin gives her one of his what-do-youknow looks. "And that means something to you?"

"Yes," she says quietly, which she does to irritate him. "It meant that she no longer received her mail at Grecian Villas. Now, why do you think she would have done that?"

"Big deal," says Alvin.

"I would certainly think so. In Grecian Villas, all she had to do was walk downstairs from her apartment to her box in the lobby and lift out her mail. The new address meant she would have to get someone to drive her to the nearest post office and get her mail there. Why bother?"

This gives Alvin pause. "I never thought about that."

"She didn't want Philip to see her mail?" Ida asks.

"I wonder," I say. "She didn't want Philip to know she had a family?"

"My feeling exactly," says Shirley.

"But why?" asks Sophie.

"I don't really know." Shirley puts the cigarette back in its pack. Then she smiles wickedly. "Maybe she was ashamed of us."

"But you mentioned last time that you met him," I remind her.

"Yes, we did. Once. Only two weeks before she died."

Alvin adds, "I had business on the East Coast and I thought I'd surprise her."

"And let me tell you," Shirley says, "she was surprised all right. And not very happy to see us. But Philip, he was thrilled. He chastised her ever so sweetly for keeping her lovely children from him. I thought he was wonderful."

"I thought he was smarmy," says Alvin. "I immediately knew my mother was in danger."

When the Fergusons leave, a few minutes after admonishing us to get on the case quickly, there is a collective sigh of relief in my living room. Everyone stretches out to get more comfortable.

"What a nosy guy. Like he needed to know my private business?" Sophie is still insulted.

"Poor Shirley," Bella whispers. "He must be awful to live with."

"She ain't no walk in the park, either," Ida adds.

"Okay, so they deserve each other." Bella feels better about it now that that's settled.

"Okay," comments Ida, "the first check cleared, now we're official. Where do we go from here?"

I get up and start to clear the tea things. "Directly to Grecian Villas, where the alleged crime took place."

But while the girls head back to their own apartments to get ready for the drive, I quickly dial Jack's number. As it rings, I plan what to say. I I hear you almost caught the Peeper . . . hear you almost caught the Peeper . . . Then the answering machine picks up. Suddenly Jack is never at home. Where does he go? Does he have any idea he's driving me mad? Life is too short to spend it being miserable, so I leave a message this time. I tell him I Then the answering machine picks up. Suddenly Jack is never at home. Where does he go? Does he have any idea he's driving me mad? Life is too short to spend it being miserable, so I leave a message this time. I tell him I have have to see him. to see him.

NINE.

GRECIAN VILLAS.

We pull up to the front door of the retirement hotel where the ill-fated Esther Ferguson and Philip Smythe (a.k.a. Romeo) lived. We've taken the case. Alvin has instructed us to go full steam ahead and not worry about expenses. Music to our ears. Even though Shirley told us otherwise.

The girls have dressed up for their foray into the land of the obscenely wealthy. No flip-flops today. They ooh ooh and and ahhh ahhh at the sparkling white archways and pillars that grace the front of Grecian Villas' main building. at the sparkling white archways and pillars that grace the front of Grecian Villas' main building.

Inside, the theme continues. Marble gray-white floors and whitewashed walls hung with paintings of ancient and modern Greece. Furniture in muted tones. Floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere. Welldressed residents lounging about a huge lobby reading or quietly chatting. Soft music piped in through hidden speakers.

"Elegant," whispers Evvie.

"Too quiet," retorts Ida.