Page 26 of Spies Don’t Fall for Their Best Friend

Barbara gives the tiniest snort.

Reese points at the binder. “That’s the case file. No… the neighborhood map.”

“And it’s color-coded.” I nod toward Marge. “She noticed we were people-watching, which means she’s observant.”

Reese points to Barbara. “And she’s in charge of the integrity of the binder, which was why she tried to hide it.”

“Because civilians aren’t cleared to see it.”

Marge laughs so hard she has to dab at the corner of one eye.

Reese continues, pointing to Helen. “And she’s the friendly one.”

I nod. “Absolutely. It’s her job to keep people talking.”

“Without them realizing she’s actually doing investigative work.” Reese points at Barbara. “And Barbara compiles it.”

“Verifies it,” I add.

“Alphabetizes it.” When Barbara raises an indignant finger, Reese amends, “Categorizes it. She’s not a fan of chaos.”

Both Marge and Helen burst into laughter, but Barbara is just grinning like she’s finally been vindicated.

I look over at Reese. She’s so funny, insightful, and always deeply herself. This is why I want her. And why I can’t risk losing her.

I turn back to the three women. “Well? How did we do?”

Helen reaches out and flips the binder back over, revealing a cover that reads Sidewalk Sisters. “We’re a neighborhood walk club.”

Reese’s eyes widen. “That’s…much better than private investigators.”

Marge beams. “Well! You two weren’t nearly as wrong as you could’ve been.”

Barbara folds her arms again. “They were wrong enough.”

“Oh, hush.” Marge waves her off. “We’re not a neighborhood investigative network.”

Helen nods. “At least not officially.”

“We started walking together after we all retired,” Marge says. “Every Tuesday. Then Thursdays. Then we added Saturdays because Helen insisted exercise was more fun if there was pie afterward.”

“There is pie afterward,” Helen says. “That part’s important.”

“And,” Marge continues, “after you’ve walked the same streets for six years, you notice things.”

“We notice people,” Helen corrects gently.

Barbara taps the binder. “And we write down the things worth remembering.”

Reese leans forward. “You really keep notes?”

Barbara looks mildly offended. “Of course I keep notes.”

Marge grins. “Barbara would misplace her own birthday if it wasn’t written down.”

“I have never misplaced my birthday.”

“You forgot how old you were last year.”