Marvel didn't hate Ira Pickerel anymore, now that he was tooling down the road in Kevin's car, having cited agency policy when he confiscated it for evidence. He was munching cookies out of the picnic basket, fiddling with the radio every now and then to get away from the redneck wails, and on his way to Niagara Falls, via Cleveland. The jacket was spread out neatly in the backseat, along with the dark red tie. Special Agent Clark "Marvel" Rhodes didn't know when next he might need to flash his badge, but when he did, he wanted to look slick.

"I don't want to file a report," Geri howled, standing beside her Mercedes. "Whoever did this is welcome to my luggage and the spare tire. Just let us go!"

Kyle winced at the harsh marks on the trunk. "Come on, Officer, it's not as though you're going to catch the guy, so why don't you allow Miss Gebhearn to come by the precinct when we return to the city. In the meantime, she'll send you a copy of the insurance and registration papers, and you can start the report with them."

"No, sir, that's impossible," the police officer said. "You have to come down now and fill out the paper work. Otherwise, your insurance company won't pay up and you'll be amazed at how much this kind of damage costs."

"I feel as though I'm being taken hostage," Geri said, glaring at the officer and wishing Mother had instilled some tips about this sort of degradation.

"Sorry, ma'am."

Kyle took her arm and eased her into the passenger's side. "We'll be out of the city in no time. How long can paperwork take, after all?"

"Would you like some more peanuts?" the stewardess asked so eagerly that I wondered if she were on commission.

I took a package, but Ruby Bee stonily stared at the back of the seat, her hands grasped tightly on the armrests and her mouth clamped shut. Estelle also accepted another package, but she wasn't any chattier than her cohort in crime.

"So it wasn't cash," I said for the millionth time.

"And what am I supposed to do with a lifetime supply of Krazy KoKo-Nut? I don't care what they say about its value, it's nasty and gawdawful and I wouldn't even use it for compost. Just thinking about it arriving year after year's enough to push me in an early grave." Fresh out of suggestions, I looked down at the clouds, then smiled as I realized I was longing to get back to Maggody, where nothing ever happened.

Joan Hess is the author of both the Claire Malloy and the Maggody mystery series. She is a winner of the American Mystery Award, a member of Sisters in Crime, and a former president of the American Crime Writers League. She lives in Fayetteville, Arkansas.