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the accident..." the cop began, and then his voice trailed off and Sophie turned to see Clea floating down the steps, looking as blonde and lush as ever.
    "Did I hear you say you're Phin Tucker?" Clea drifted past Sophie to take the mayor's arm. "I can't believe it. The last time I saw you, you fell off your bike." She let her eyes slide up to his.
    "I'm having the same feeling now. Hello, Clea . Welcome home." The mayor looked down into Clea's blue eyes, but he didn't sound off-balance in the slightest. He was probably never off-balance. Sophie felt annoyed with him for that.
    "And who's this?" Clea gazed past his shoulder at the police chief. Page 16
    "Police chief," a deep voice said from behind Wes. "They want to know about some accident." Sophie turned. Medium, dark, and smug, the green suit had too much hair mousse and a slight paunch, and he'd slung his suit jacket over one shoulder in a misbegotten attempt to look cool. His shirt had green and white stripes, and his tie was bright yellow.
    "You must be Frank," Sophie said.
    "That's me. Now don't you worry about a thing." Frank winked at Sophie. "I can handle this for you. I'm on the council."
    "Nothing to handle," the cop said mildly, and Sophie shot Clea a look that said, Do something with this guy.
    Clea took Frank's arm. "Why don't we go up on the porch and discuss your scenes for tomorrow?" Frank looked stunned, as if he couldn't believe she was touching him, and let her tow him off. One confirmed jackass out of the way. Two possible wolves to go.
    "Well, that's the car," she told the cop, and the mayor looked at her one last time and then left them to walk over to it, evidently having seen all he needed. "It's registered to my sister and me." She turned back to the dilapidated porch where Amy was now leaning against the post, chewing her ham-and-cheese sandwich and looking exotic in her orange tube top and purple capris, her red hair flaming in the sun.
    "That's my sister."
    "Oh," the cop said, looking at Amy.
    The mayor called the cop over, and he went as Amy put her sandwich on the porch rail and came down the steps.
    "I told you so," Sophie said to Amy under her breath. "The Pillars reported us to some outback nazi law-enforcement agency and now they've run us down like dogs—"
    " Fear and Loathing again. You're getting boring." She studied the two men. "So that's Phineas T. Tucker. We were wrong. He's having sex. And he can have more with me."
    "Concentrate," Sophie said. "The cop's name is Wes Mazur. Get over there and give him anything he wants so he'll go away and we can get to work."
    "I'd rather give it to the mayor." Amy sighed. "Unfortunately, he appears to want it from you."
    "What?" Sophie said. "Amy, concentrate ."
    "I was standing in the doorway when he said hi," Amy said. "And from the look on his face, what he has for you is not the key to the city."
    "There was no look on his face," Sophie said. The mayor was now gazing at the car with the same lack of expression he'd been sporting since he'd arrived. Clearly a product of too much inbreeding. "I don't think he has anything for anybody. Go get rid of them."
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    Fifteen minutes later, after the cop had gone back to the patrol car, gotten a crowbar, and pried the fender off the tire, Amy came back to the porch with the two men behind her. "Wes has a few questions."
    Wes?"Questions?" Sophie clasped her hands together to keep from fidgeting and then began to twist her rings instead.
    The cop gestured to the swing, and she sat down. When he started to sit on the porch rail, Sophie said,
    "No!" and lunged for the rail, grabbing Amy's sandwich before he sat on it. "Sorry," she told him, handing the sandwich to Amy.
    "Thank you." He sat on the rail while the mayor leaned on the post behind him, looking amused, which did nothing to endear him to Sophie. He was starring in The Philadelphia Story ; she looked like an extra from The Grapes of Wrath . Life was so unfair.
    "Just tell me what happened,"