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“Do you think Mr. Halliwell is of sound mind? He seemed a little kooky.”
    â€œYou said he passed out?”
    â€œMaybe he’s not well. It just seemed so strange that oneminute he was talking to someone, and the next minute he was on the ground.”
    â€œHe collapsed? Just like that?” Big Joe snapped his fingers.
    â€œHe had a glass of orange juice, or at least that’s what it looked like. He drank it and then stumbled backward, and then he collapsed.” I pulled the amber pill vial out of my pocket. “And I found this on the ground.”
    Big Joe looked at the amber vial. “Nitroglycerine tablets. Standard for anybody who’s had a heart attack, but I don’t remember hearing anything like that about Harvey Halliwell. He’s been the picture of health around these parts. Credits that darn Tangorli juice he’s always drinking. You say Harvey dropped this?”
    â€œI found it on the ground where he fell. I assumed he dropped it, but maybe it wasn’t his.”
    Big Joe pursed his lips and seemed to consider this. The chimes over the door rang. Duke maneuvered his wheelchair inside.
    â€œHey, Big Joe,” Duke said. “Can I get four chocolate glazed?”
    â€œYou keep packing away these chocolate glazed, you’re gonna need a bigger chair.”
    Duke wheeled himself backward and forward a few times. “Maybe I’ll trade up to the Rolls-Royce model for the Miss Tangorli pageant.”
    â€œYou’re involved in the pageant?” I asked.
    â€œYou’re looking at one of this year’s judges.” He looked at me and winked.
    Duke owned and operated The Broadside Tavern, which sat almost directly across the street from Material Girl. I’d been inside on more than one occasion and had determined that while they served a good burger, the regular clientele was slightly too threatening for my tastes. But despite the atmosphere of his bar, I liked Duke. He was a straight shooterlike Big Joe. If I needed backup in a dark alley, these were the two men I’d call. But only if Charlie was unavailable, because I had a sneaking suspicion she had a mean left hook.
    â€œPolyester Monroe,” Duke said, pointing a finger at me accusingly. “You cleaned up pretty nice last night. Don’t see many dresses like that around here. What do you call those beads?”
    â€œBugle beads.”
    â€œYeah, those. You don’t see many bugle beads around here.” He looked at Big Joe and they both smiled. “I know one person who was happy you wore it.”
    â€œI don’t want to talk about Vaughn McMichael,” I said.
    â€œVaughn? I’m talking about Nolene Kelly. When she heard you designed the thing, she got very excited.”
    â€œWhy would she care about my dress?”
    â€œMaybe she wants you to make her one.”
    â€œBut I didn’t make my dress,” I said. “I only designed it.”
    â€œThen maybe she wants to employ the birds and the mice you keep in the store who turned your sketch into reality,” Duke said.
    Men.
    â€œWhy don’t you ask her?” he continued. “She’s been standing in front of your shop for the past twenty minutes.”
    â€œHow do you know?” I looked out the window toward the store, though it was too far to see.
    â€œI passed her on my way here.”
    I stood up. “Business awaits, gentlemen.” I loaded myself down with boxes of donuts and the carafe of coffee and backed out the front door. “Big Joe, put this on my tab,” I said.
    â€œYou got it.”
    Bonita Avenue was empty, so I cut across the middle of the street, covered the blocks between us, and called out a greeting to Nolene when I got within what I hoped was hearing range. She followed me into the store and waited while I set the box of donuts up on the wrap stand. She glanced toher left and right, scanning the shelves, and then advanced to where I