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“So? There are certain realities you just have to face, Vesta. Charlene is an attractive woman, and I’m sure she’s got assets that would make any man happy to explore them.”

Gran buried her face in her hands.“Oh, God.”

“It’s human nature!”

“Just because you’re obsessed with sex doesn’t mean we all are.”

“Just saying,” said Scarlett with a shrug.

Norm was losing his patience. So far nothing was happening that would make James Bond bother to get out of bed in the morning, and he was starting to wonder if Max had sent him on a fool’s errand. He wouldn’t put it past the cat to try and get rid of him.

“Look, I want to find out what Charlene’s got on my son, and then I want to stop that wedding from happening. Are you with me or not, that’s all I need to know right now.”

“Well…” said Scarlett, wavering.

“It’s going to break my granddaughter’s heart, Scarlett! And I happen to love my granddaughter—more than anything in the world!”

“Aww,” said Scarlett, regarding her friend with interest.

“What’s the look for?”

“So you do have a heart.”

“Of course I have a heart!” She then wagged a finger in her friend’s face. “But don’t you go and blab about it. It would ruin my reputation.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll help you. What do you want me to do?”

“First we need to find out Charlene’s secret.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“Easy. We spy on her.”

“What do you mean?”

“We bug her phone, her house, her office, we put a tracker on her car…”

“Isn’t that, like, extremely illegal?”

“Who cares? I’m trying to protect my family here, Scarlett!”

“Fine! But aren’t you forgetting one thing?”

“What?”

“We’re not exactly professional spies, you and me. So how do you propose we pull this off?”

Grandma Muffin smiled.“Leave that to me. I’ve got it all figured out.”

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly the high-profile spy bonanza Norm had anticipated, but he still felt, as he started the long flight back to Harrington Street to report to Max, that he’d gleaned some interesting intelligence. And he was starting to see that he’d landed himself in exactly the kind of spy story Mr. Bond would have appreciated.

Chapter 4

Marge looked at her watch, then up and down the street. Her husband was late. They’d arranged to go shopping together and so far Tex was a no-show. She frowned as she thought about the article she’d just read on the Gazette website. Breaking news, it said. The Chief of Police was getting married to the Mayor, it said. A thousand comments had already been posted, and almost all of them heralded the news and wished the future husband and wife all the happiness in the world.

Marge had tried to call her brother, wanting to ask him what he thought he was doing, letting her find out about his upcoming wedding from the Gazette. But he wasn’t picking up, and nor was her daughter Odelia, who’d written the article in the first place.

What was going on here?

Finally Tex came hurrying up, looking apologetic.“I’m sorry!” he said as he joined her on the sidewalk. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Ten minutes,” she said. “What took you so long?”

“Ida Baumgartner,” he said ruefully, and she smiled. It was just Tex’s luck to get his most faithful patient to pay him a visit just before he needed to be somewhere.

“What did she suffer from this time?” she asked. “Probably some disease that hasn’t been invented yet?”

“Actually this time she was suffering from something real,” said her husband as they walked into Darling’s Dress Code. “A rash. On her face.”

“Probably an allergy.”

“I don’t think so. She did mention she was using a new face cream so—”

But Marge was already making a beeline for the shoe department and forgot all about Ida Baumgartner and her long string of real or imagined illnesses. The store was organizing a big sale today, and she wanted to get two pairs of shoes for Tex, and a pair for her as well. Initially she’d wanted to buy them for their daughter’s wedding, but now that it looked like her brother was getting hitched, too, they’d have to do double duty.

“Read this and tell me what you think,” she said once her husband’s shoe needs had been taken care of and she entered the frantic fray to find a nice pair for herself.

When she returned with a pair of elegant pink pumps—not exactly ideal for a wedding but the price was so right!—he handed her back her phone, looking stumped.

“I don’t get it,” he announced. “Your brother is getting married?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“And you didn’t know about this?”

“Nope. He didn’t tell me a thing.” In fact she’d talked to her brother the night before, and he hadn’t given any indication that he was about to tie the knot again—fifteen years after becoming a widower.

Tex looked as flummoxed as she was feeling.“I tried to call him,” she said, “but he’s not picking up. And then I tried calling Odelia, but she’s not picking up either.”

“So… maybe the article is a hoax?”

“Odelia wrote it,” she pointed out.