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to Cy as she handed him a tray filled with cookies. “Why are you here tonight and bringing the dead with you?” she asked as she looked toward Paxton.

“Two Myriad members going by the names Maurice and Murray,” Cy started to say before turning to Paxton. “Show them the pictures.”

Paxton held out his phone to display images of Maurice and Murray. The three women nodded with recognition.

“They’re trying to sell stolen art and my niece, the sweetest darlin’ you’ve ever met, has been put in the position as the art broker. We traced them back here and are trying to find out what the Myriad is up to and what it has to do with art.” Cy cracked faster than an egg ready for an omelet.

Paxton noted the women didn’t look surprised, but they also weren’t sharing. The dangers of the knitting club. They gathered information but rarely parted with it.

“Do you think you can help us?” Paxton asked.

Miss Trudie looked up innocently from where she was knitting. “Oh, we don’t know anything. We’re just three old ladies.”

Cy’s lips twitched up in a smile. Kord busted out laughing.

“Ladies, we all know that’s an even bigger fib,” Kord said with a smooth smile on his lips. He gave the women a wink and they all smiled back at him, proving you were never too old to flirt.

“How about an exchange? You give us information and I’ll help you out,” Dare suggested.

“We do not need payoffs like low-life drug dealers,” Miss Josie said with a sniff of displeasure.

“Oh, I wasn’t going to trade money for information,” Dare said, looking down at Miss Josie’s knitting. “I was going to show you how to clean up your stranded floats. Then I could show Miss Ethel why she’s having trouble attaching the I-cord, and then help Miss Trudie with that intarsia technique.”

The women all looked down at their knitting and back up at Dare. He’d surprised them so much they forgot to mask it on their faces.

“You knit?” Miss Josie sputtered.

“I do. I’m part of my town’s knitting club. So, do we have a deal?” Dare asked as Paxton and Connor glanced at each other, clearly holding their breath.

“Sit a spell and let’s chat. My, what a fine group of men you have with you, Paxton,” Miss Trudie said. Cy walked back to the van and pulled out two folding chairs. Granger and Kord sat down on the steps. Cy and Dare sat in the chairs on each side of the knitting club. Peter leaned against the white iron railing and kept lookout while Connor did the same on the other side of the steps. Paxton walked up the four cement steps and took a seat on a porch swing.

“See, there have been new men in town. They arrived the day you were killed,” Miss Ethel told them as she nodded to Paxton. “They’ve been strutting around like they own the place ever since. Never once stopped to introduce themselves. To anyone. Peewee is a thorn in our side, but he has good manners at least. He never sells to kids and he even takes out our trash cans for us.”

“But these new men don’t. They aren’t from here either. They’re from Argentina. We heard that no-good Curtis Engle talking the other week. Stopped right in front of our house where we were knitting in the living room with the window open,” Miss Josie said, picking up the story. “He said the Argentinians are demanding they fence the paintings and get them their cash by the end of summer or they’ll pull their support of the Myriad’s expansion.”

“That’s right,” Miss Trudie said, nodding with a sour look on her face. “That no-good Curtis was talking to Maurice and Murray, or rather, the Spiller brothers, as everyone knows them. The Spiller brothers are almost always together. They slithered into Curtis’s favor after all that shooting went down and Curtis lost most of his inner circle. Was that you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Before I took three shots to the chest and was run out of the gang unit,” Paxton told them.

“Run out, you say?” Miss Ethel asked.

“That’s right. I was transferred out of state and my subordinate was promoted.” Paxton pulled up a photo of Mark on his phone and showed it to the ladies. “Mark Trevino.”

“We haven’t seen him, but I think we’ve heard talk about him,” Miss Trudie confirmed. “See, when Curtis was talking to the Spillers, he said they needed the sell the paintings immediately and said the Argentinians wanted half the sales price in cash for them. The Spillers said they had a fence in Shadows Landing, South Carolina. Curtis said, ‘Be careful, our man inside said an enemy came back from the dead in Charleston.’”

“I should never have applied for that transfer back here,” Paxton cursed. Peter gave him a sympathetic look. They’d unknowingly stirred the hornets’ nest.

“Anything else useful we should know? Guns? Drugs? Anything you’d like to see stopped that we can help with?” Dare asked.

“They’re selling drugs to kids down at the basketball courts in the park. Someone tried to sell my grandson a dime bag. He’s thirteen,” Miss Josie told them as the others shook their heads with disgust.

“I’ll take care of it. You have my word,” Connor swore to them.

“There’s also a van with this license plate,” Miss Ethel said, handing her phone to Connor. “They sell guns out of the back of it. Here’s video.”

Dare leaned over and watched the video. “I can take care of that for you, ladies.”

“I have no doubt. Now, those two are clearly cops,” Miss Trudie said, pointing to Granger and Kord. “And our back from the dead boy is FBI and that fella looks like FBI, too,” Miss Trudie said, pointing to Paxton and Peter. “You, I don’t know. But you probably wouldn’t tell us anyway,” she said to Cy who gave her a wink. “But you don’t fit,” she said to Dare.

“ATF, ma’am. Now let me show you how to fix

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