So far, Miranda is getting clues about Dougie but she's still in the dark. She gets Mitch to go with her to Llarado's Gentlemen's Club to look for Rita's husband.

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Mitch pulls his wallet back out of his pocket and withdraws the forty dollars. "Here, send it all to her."

"You're such a softie," I say, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Now, are you ready for what's behind door number two?"

Another big burley man steps in front of us. "Restrooms are over there, sweetheart." He folds his arms in front of him.

"Oh, I just need to see my buddy, Bill. He's right back there." I stand on my tiptoes to point over his shoulder. "Shouldn't take more than a minute."

He doesn't budge. Just stares at me like it's the third time tonight he's heard that same excuse.

I try to think of another plausible reason. "Look, he's a cop. We need to talk to Bill."

Mitch groans and gently grabs my arm. "May I speak with you, over here?"

I hold up one finger to the guy, just to let him know I'll be right back.

"Stop telling people I'm a cop. I'm here with you as a favor. I'm not here in any official capacity. I'm not going to throw my badge around to get us into places we should not be."

I glance over at the guy. He's scanning the room, making sure all of the gentlemen are still acting like gentlemen.

"Miranda, are you hearing what I'm telling you?" Mitch touches my chin to make me look at him.

"I get it." I say, turning to go back and plead my case to the guard dog by the door.

"Since we can't go back there, could you get Bill to come out here?"

The guy looks at me then at Mitch. "You really a cop?"

Mitch nods, an uneasy smile on his face. "Sure am."

He waves his arm at the door and nods. "Five minutes. You've got five minutes. She can go back there, but I've got a few things I'd like to ask you."

I wink at Mitch and scurry around the bouncer to find Rita's elusive Bill.

There are about seven or eight girls back there, wearing next to nothing or wrapped up in a fleece robe.

All have fake nails, makeup and some have big curlers in their hair. They move about talking and laughing like it's a big sorority house.

They barely notice me milling around. An occasional hello or smile, but other than that, this little sorority couldn't care less that I'm here.

"Excuse me, can you point me in the direction of Bill the handyman?"

A stunning redhead pauses. She tosses her auburn locks over her shoulder. "Probably down that hall there. He doesn't come around us much." She winks like it's some secret we share.

I head in the direction she points. The yellow lighting overhead flickers. Seems like Bill the handyman hasn't gotten to replacing the bulbs yet.

"Bill," I call. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

A door creaks and a shadow looms large on the wall. The figure casting that shadow comes into view.

"Oh. Hey there, Miranda," his voice almost squeaks as he speaks. "What, uh, are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing. Bill, why are you in the back hall of Llarado's?"

His shoulders sag and he motions for me to come into the room. "I work here."

I look around. It's a workshop. Cans of paint are stacked in one corner, a shelf is lined with rolls of toilet paper. There are wrenches, screwdrivers, hammers all hung up on the wall. It is exactly what it appears to be, a handyman's room.

"I can see that now. But I've got some bad news, Billy boy. Your wife thinks you have a girlfriend."

I'm not sure why, but this notion seems to be a surprise for him. Man logic is a remarkable thing. Why would she suspect him of such a deplorable act? A: he's out until 3 a.m. B: this is behavior he has never previously done. C: apparently he has neglected to tell her about his new employer.

"Why would she think that?"

I want to smack him. "You come home at 3 a.m. and probably smell like whatever that smell is that permeates the halls. You tell me why she would think that."

He sighs heavily. "She doesn't know what time I get home. She's always asleep."

I laugh. "She knows exactly when you crawl into bed. You need to come clean, Bill."

"I lost my job. This was all I could find. She's gonna be so pissed off." He looked miserable. "I was just going to work here until I could find something better."

I start walking towards the door but stop just short. "You know, Bill, she loves you. You have two beautiful boys together. Just talk to her. She just wants to know you still love her."

Bill let's a half smile come to his face. "Wish me luck," he says, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.

I slip out of the room and find my way back to where Mitch and the bouncer are talking like old friends.

"Ready?" I ask.

"I think a new class starts in early January. But check into that ride along program I told you about." Mitch reaches over and shakes the guy's hand.

"Thanks, man."

I look over at Mitch as we weave our way through the throngs of men all clamoring to get a good view of the redhead who's moving like molten lava on the stage.

"Bet you ten bucks she's double jointed," I whisper. "What were you and your buddy talking about?"

He grins. "Wants to become a cop. He's smart. I enjoyed talking to him."

"So, I found Bill, not that you asked. He's working here because he lost his job. He was afraid to tell Rita because he thought she'd be pissed, and she was afraid to ask him what he was doing all these nights. Sheesh, communication is a dying art."

Mitch smiles and slips his arm around my shoulder. "Let's get out of here before I spot another one of my daughter's friends."

Strip clubs are definitely different than what I had imagined. Business deals, childhood friends, crappy ex-husbands and cheap cologne all meld together around beautiful women who provide exotic fantasy to a dull reality.

"So, do you think Rita will let him keep working here?"

"Maybe."

"What would you do if I got a part-time job here?"

I lean into him. "Hope and pray that everyone of those young ladies has attended school with one of your daughters."

"Dang, Miranda. You've got an answer for everything."