So far, Miranda has decided to find out what happened to Dougie Wilcox. Mitch agrees to help as long as she plays by the rules. She and Mitch check out the infamous Llarado's Gentlemen's Club to find out that Rita's husband, Bill, isn't cheating on her but rather working as a handyman.

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Rita runs at me as soon as my foot crosses the threshold of The Little Eagle.

"He's not cheating on me. My Billy isn't cheating."

Her eyes are lit up like a Roman candle on the fourth of July. "I told you he wasn't." I haven't heard my name mentioned so I'm guessing old Bill came clean without letting her know I visited. "So, tell me what happened," I say. I'm hoping he told her the whole truth and didn't leave out any specific details...like where he's currently employed.

Rita hands me my vest, the whole time rambling about being a fool for suspecting him and how they take their vows of marriage seriously. I listen as she tells me about his getting laid off and he's doing maintenance for the "club". It's none of my business but I wonder if she understands what kind of "club" it is. It ain't the country club, that's for sure.

I study my vest, checking for stains or loose threads. I have to look anywhere but at Rita. Because if I do look at her and he hasn't come completely clean about his new job, my face will tell her everything she doesn't want to hear.

"Oh, and get this, apparently your ex-husband got thrown out. Accused one of the dancers of stealing his money. Said it got ugly. They took his keys so he couldn't drive, and he had no money for a cab. Bill said the lowlife called his wife to come get him."

I look up, thinking about the money tucked in my purse. I am planning to give it to his wife. Poor woman, if I gave her twice that amount, it wouldn't begin to be enough. She will come around. It may take a while. She has little kids to think about now. But one day, maybe when they're grown up, she'll pack up and walk away.

"...did you hear me?"

"Sorry, what?"

"Does it bother you that he goes to places like that? "

I slip the vest on, making a mental note to carry it home tonight and wash it. "I don't care what he does. He's someone else's problem now."

Rita heads back to the office to start on the orders and I start restocking the coffee station.

There are three or four busy spurts throughout the morning. The day passes quickly.

Preston is scheduled to work tonight. As much as I was against having a helper, I kind of enjoy having him around. He's high energy, for sure. But he's a good kid. He's nothing like Waylon, who's reserved and takes it all in. No, Preston is all action. Like a tall, skinny bundle of kinetic energy, that can spin a basketball on his finger.

At three-fifty, the bell on the door sounds and I look up to see Mr. Starling shuffling into the store.

"It's not Friday, Mr. Starling. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Stopped in because I saw your car and I need a nice bottle of chardonnay. "

I cock an eyebrow. "You thought of The Little Eagle for nice wine?"

He grins. "My niece is coming to dinner. She likes it. Wine is wine to me. Maybe you can give me some guidance."

I walk away from the candy i was restocking and join him where the limited selection of wine is. "I only go by the label. If I think the label is cool, I'll buy it."

"Sounds good to me." He points at a bottle. "What do you think of this label?"

I scan the shelves. "Personally, I like this one better. Colorful."

He looks the bottle over. "It's a screw off cap. Is that good or bad?"

I shrug. "I don't think that really matters anymore. It's more convenient. No corkscrew? No problem."

He follows me to the counter. "Is that everything?" I ask.

"My Laura would have liked you." He smiles sadly.

"Was she your wife?"

"Yes. God rest her soul. Forty-eight years. I killed her."

I look up sharply. "What? That's a joke, right?"

"I wish it were. I did something very stupid, Miranda. I lost almost all of our money. I knew it was too good to be true. I fell for a ponzi scheme. Laura told me not to do it. I thought we'd get rich, you know? Have enough money to go on cruises, visit Europe. Stuff we always talked about. When I realized I'd been scammed, I begged her to forgive me. She said she did. Kept quoting our vows ... for better or worse, richer or poorer. But she just withdrew. More and more, she let go, until one day, she went to the bedroom, said she was going to lay down and rest before dinner," he says, his voice trailing off.

"I'm so sorry. What ever happened to the person who took your money?"

He looks up with misty eyes. "I don't know. He vanished. I was hoping you might know. I'm going to be honest with you. I heard the man was your boyfriend."

My heart catches in my throat. Dougie took his money. It doesn't make sense. He wasn't a criminal. Dougie might have been self absorbed but he didn't do things like that.

"Miranda, where is he?"

"I don't know. I swear I don't know."

He looks down sadly. "I just want my money back. If you hear from him, tell him about Laura. He may not care about me but he liked Laura when he met her. I could tell. Tell him he broke her heart." Mr. Starling waits quietly, watching me try to process the bombshell he just dropped on me.

"I'm so sorry. I haven't heard from him in almost two years."

Mr. Starling takes his wine, and without a word turns to leave. He pauses by the door. "Laura would have liked you, Miranda."

I feel my blood pumping, like frigid water it runs through my veins.

Damn it, Dougie. How many people did you drag into your investments? Call me. Call me, Dougie. This is bigger than just Waylon. It makes sense why he doesn't want to be found.

I wait until he drives away before I pick up the phone. "Mitch, I think Dougie was involved in some bad stuff. Can you swing by later?"