Amanda felt a familiar sense of dread. “Who?”

“My neighbor.” She got off the couch. She took Amanda’s beer can and put it beside hers on the table. “She’s worked with APD for years. Her husband’s been banished to the airport. Drinks too much. A real piece of work.” She walked toward the sliding glass door. Amanda had no choice but to follow her. Evelyn kept up her chatter as she walked across the backyard. “Roz is a bit grumpy, but she’s a good gal. She’s seen her share of dead bodies, believe you me. Does it bother you that she’s Jewish?”

Amanda couldn’t figure out which tangent to start with. “Why would it bother me?”

Evelyn hesitated before she continued her trek across the yard. “Anyway, Roz is a crime scene photographer. She develops all the photos at her house. They won’t have her at headquarters because she’s too mouthy. I think she’s been doing the job for ten years now. I’m sure your father’s mentioned her?”

Amanda shook her head when Evelyn glanced back.

Evelyn continued, “I saw her earlier this morning and she was already in a state.” They made their way past a green Corvair parked in the carport. The home was set up similar to Evelyn’s, except there was a screened porch between the carport and house.

Evelyn lowered her voice. “Don’t say anything about her face. Like I said, her husband’s a real piece of work.” She pushed open the screen door and tapped her fingers on the kitchen window. “Hello?” she called, her tone upbeat. “Roz? It’s Ev again.” After a few seconds without a response, she told Amanda, “I’ll go around to the front.”

“I’ll be here.” Amanda rested her hand on the washing machine that took up half the porch. Her sense of discomfort started to amplify as she thought about what she was doing. Amanda had never been inside a Jew’s home before. She didn’t quite know what to expect.

Evelyn was right; Amanda didn’t get out much. She hadn’t been to a party in years. She didn’t drop in on neighbors. She didn’t sit around plush living rooms listening to records and drinking alcohol. There were very few dates in her past. Any boy who wanted to ask her out had to go through Duke first. Not many had survived his scrutiny. There was one boy in high school who’d managed to persuade Amanda to go all the way. Three times, and then she couldn’t take it anymore. She’d been so terrified of getting pregnant that the whole ordeal was only slightly more pleasant than getting a tooth drilled.

Evelyn was back. “I know she’s here.” She knocked on the kitchen door this time. “I don’t know why she isn’t answering.”

Amanda looked at her watch, praying she could think of a good excuse to leave. Standing next to Evelyn Mitchell only heightened her sense of mortification. She felt like an old maid. The clothes Amanda was wearing—a black skirt, short-sleeved white cotton shirt, heels and pantyhose—exemplified the difference. Evelyn looked like a carefree flower child. Kenny must have taken one look at Amanda and pegged her for exactly what she was: a square.

“Hello?” Evelyn knocked on the door again.

From inside the house, a voice called, “Hold your horses, for God’s sakes.”

Evelyn grinned at Amanda. “Don’t let her get to you. She can be nasty.”

The door swung open. An older woman dressed in a brown housecoat and slippers glared at them. Her face was a mess: broken lip, blackened eye. “Why’d you knock on the front door, then run around to the side?”

Evelyn ignored her question. “Roz Levy, this is my friend Amanda Wagner. Amanda, this is Roz.”

Roz narrowed her eyes at Amanda. “Duke Wagner’s girl, right?”

Normally, people said this with respect. There was something close to hate in the woman’s voice.

Evelyn said, “She’s a good gal, Roz. Give her a break.”

Roz was unmoved. She asked Amanda, “You know they call you Wag, right? Always waggin’ your tail, tryin’ to please.”

Amanda felt sucker-punched. Her stomach dropped.

“Oh, hush up, Roz.” Evelyn grabbed Amanda’s arm and pulled her inside the house. “I want Amanda to see the photos you showed me.”

“Doubt she can handle it.”

“Well, I think you’ll be surprised. Our gal can handle more than you think.” She squeezed Amanda’s arm as she dragged her through the kitchen.

The house was nothing like Evelyn’s. There was no coolness from a running air conditioner. As a matter of fact, it felt as if all the air had been pulled out. Heavy brown curtains lined all the windows, blocking the sun. The living room was sunken, three steps down, and decorated in more dark browns. Evelyn pulled Amanda past a large couch that stank of body odor. Beer cans were on the floor beside a reclining chair. Cigarette butts spilled from the ashtray. Three steps back up. Evelyn forced Amanda to walk down the hallway. She only let go when they were in Roz Levy’s spare bedroom.

As with the rest of the house, the room was dark and airless. The closet door hung open. A red lightbulb hung from a cord over various trays and chemicals. A rumpled daybed held cameras of all shapes and sizes. The desk was overflowing with paperwork. There were tennis rackets and roller skates in small piles around the room.

“She does yard sales,” Evelyn explained. “The first time Bill met her, he said she reminded him of the guy who works for Baroness Bomburst in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.” She saw Amanda’s expression and said, “Sweetie. Don’t be upset. She says awful things sometimes. That’s just her way.”

Amanda crossed her arms, feeling exposed. Wag. She’d never heard the nickname before. She knew that people around the station considered her a goody-two-shoes. Amanda had come to terms with the reputation. There were worse things they could call her. She wasn’t trim. She wasn’t bad at her job. She was helpful. Courteous.

They called her Wag because she was always trying to please people.

Amanda’s throat worked as she tried to swallow back tears. She did try to please people. Please her father by doing everything he told her to. Please Butch by typing his reports. Please Rick Landry by taking Evelyn away from Techwood. Why had Amanda done that? Why hadn’t she told Landry to stop? He had practically assaulted Evelyn with her own flashlight. She was bruised on her chest and God only knew where else. And Amanda’s response had been to grab her and run away like a puppy with its tail between its legs.

Wagging her tail.

Roz Levy finally deigned to join them. Amanda saw the reason for her delay when she entered the room. She’d stopped to get a Tab.

“So.” Roz pulled the ring from the can. She dropped it into a mason jar on the desk. “You gals playing cops and robbers today?”

“I told you we’re working a case.” Evelyn’s voice was surprisingly terse.

“Look at this one,” Roz told Amanda. “Thinks they’re gonna let her work homicide one day.”

Amanda said, “Maybe they will.”

“Ha.” She didn’t really laugh. “Women’s lib, right? You can do anything you want so long as you do exactly as you’re told.”

Evelyn snapped, “We’re out there on the streets every day just the same as they are.”