"Absolutely not."

  By the time we left the gym a half hour later, I had drunk half the smoothie and found it not quite as unpleasant in taste as it smelled. I wasn't convinced of Lily's enthusiastic claims about its wonderful properties but what didn't kill you made you stronger and drinking it hadn't killed me. Drinking two might have so I was determined to be the one to order smoothies when we next hit the gym's bar. Thinking of the bar made me briefly sad. Where had the days of drinking beers and eating burgers at O'Grady's gone? How had we grown up into two bona fide adults? One married person with a baby and a business to run, and one almost married person with an actual fulfilling career. "Damn," I said to myself as I fished my car keys from my purse. "We're grownups."

  "Unfortunately," agreed Lily, "but one real night out — no babies, no partners — and we can smash anyone's assumptions of that."

  "What if someone sees us?"

  "Most of town has seen us do something stupid at one time or another," Lily reminded me.

  "True, but we're law-abiding citizens now."

  Lily snorted. "No, we just don't get caught. Enjoy your sexy dinner with sexy Solomon." She waved as she hopped into her car and pulled out of the space. I walked three cars down and raised the car key to beep the door open but before I could do so, the hair on the back of my neck rose. Someone was watching me. If I had any doubts about gut feelings, I didn't now. I slipped my hands into my jacket pockets looking for a weapon but it hadn't occurred to me to bring my gun to the gym and I didn't have anything handy like the Swiss Army knife my mother had given me or even a can of mace. I did, however, have my phone. I unlocked it, scrolled for Solomon, my thumb poised over his name.

  "Whoever you are, step out into the open," I called loudly over the pounding of my thumping heart. They didn't know it was a phone in my pocket. It could be anything and truly, it was a weapon of sorts. Solomon would come to my aid the instant I needed him and good luck to anyone who tried to hurt me.

  There was a rustling behind the trees, then a thickset African-American man in a black jacket, the collar turned up, stepped out. "How did you know I was there?" he asked in a gruff voice.

  "I smelled you," I said, which wasn't true but would certainly give him something to think about.

  "I told you," said a second male voice. A slightly taller and similarly attired Caucasian man stepped out from behind the first. He had a knit cap pulled low over his forehead and his hands were thrust into his pockets. "I told you that you splashed too much of that stuff on. You smell like a teenage boy who just got his first bottle of aftershave."

  "I do not. It's nice stuff. My wife bought it for Christmas."

  "Where from? The Dollar Store?"

  "If you ever shopped anywhere else, you would know that some things cost more than a buck."

  I sighed. I would know this bickering anywhere. I just hadn't heard it in a long time. "Luke Harris and Jesse Kafsky," I said.

  The pair stepped forwards, quietly now. "It's Sergeant Major Kafsky to you," said the taller of the pair.

  "Ignore him. I'm Captain Harris now. He has to do what I say."

  Kafsky made a rude noise.

  I looked between them, wondering how they had got through Army bootcamp when I hadn’t. "Amazing. Which idiot promoted you two?" I teased, thrilled to see them after so long.

  The pair glanced at each other and grinned. "Same idiot. How's civilian life?" asked Harris.

  "It was okay until you two showed up. What did I do to deserve this?" I asked, holding back the smile that was threatening to burst from my lips.

  "You don't write, you don't call..."

  "I do!" I protested.

  "You Whatsapp photos of small animals on skateboards and ask our opinions on shoes."

  "The shoes question was meant for my best friend, Lily."

  Kafsky leaned in and said softly, "I still say go with the lilac pumps with the bows. Chic yet edgy."

  "Very manly," said Harris. "This is why you wear a uniform; otherwise you might pick stuff like that."

  "Not for me," sniffed Kafsky. "Lexi asked our opinion. As a friend, I gave it."

  "Okay, enough!" I called out. My muscles were tired — I was tired — and I wanted to head home for a shower, then a relaxing evening of carbohydrate consumption, kissing, and dodging my mother's group chat messages about my wedding. "You didn't come all this way to hide out in the trees near my gym to talk about my messaging problems. How can I help?"

  "Actually, we haven't come far. We're stationed in Fort Charles for a couple months."

  "And we remembered you live nearby. It didn't take long to track you down," added Harris.

  "How did you track me down?" I wondered.

  "We're elite soldiers. We have skills," said Harris.

  "We saw you as we were driving around and followed you here and waited," said Kafsky.

  "You're both so weird. You could have just asked me for my current address."

  "Regardless, we need your help. You're a PI now. You find stuff."

  Instantly, I was on alert. What the hell kind of problem did they have? "What have you lost?"

  "It's only a little thing..."

  "Very little," agreed Kafsky, widening his thumb and forefinger slightly. "Just a teensy problem."

  "Hardly anything!"

  "Out with it!" I yelled.

  "We lost a tank," said Harris. "And we need you to get it back before the Army finds out it's missing."

  Chapter Five

  I paced beside the long windows that overlooked the street. Several floors up, everything seemed peaceful. There were no worried friends, no over-anxious mothers checking for the seventeenth time if I'd confirmed my choice of wedding dress because I was crazy to think any dress could be altered in a week, and no friends from long ago who had misplaced a tank. A tank! Not just any tank. A military tank!

  "Take a seat," instructed one of the lawyers, an older lady named Marianne Lewis. She arrived with Steve Wendell a few minutes ago, after my request to the couple's respective legal firms. Steve appeared tired and irritated. The lawyer looked like she was ready to send everyone a bill and do something more interesting.

  "Sorry," I said as I took a seat.

  Steve checked his watch. "She's late," he said.

  "Not yet," said his lawyer, "there're five more minutes. Ms. Graves, can you give us a hint as to what's inside the document?" She nodded to the brown envelope I placed on the table, deliberately out of reach.

  "I think it would be fairer to wait for the other party."

  "I'm paying for this!" huffed Steve. "I should know what's in it."

  "You're both my clients and as such you get the information at the same time," I reminded him.

  "I don't see why she has to be here," said Steve and then he fell silent when the door opened and his wife's lawyer stepped through, followed by his wife. She raised a hand to give a small wave to Steve and his eyes fixed on her empty left hand. His tired expression became thunderous and he turned his head away. Faye glanced at me and gave me a small, sad smile.

  "Thanks for coming," I said to them. "If you'd like to sit, we'll begin." We exchanged brief pleasantries as Faye and her lawyer took positions opposite Steve and his lawyer, then both teams settled around the table and all heads turned to me.

  I had a brief moment of enjoying my status at the head of the table with all the information. Plus, if it didn't go well, I sat nearest the door and was wearing flat pumps. I could be out of here faster than I could say “Settle your bill with my boss!"

  "You both instructed me to find out for certain if there was any financial motivation for this marriage to take place," I started. "I have learned that there is not. In fact, Mr. Wendell, if you were to continue with your divorce you would receive, not pay, alimony."

  Steve's head shot up. "What?"

  "Basically, she's saying I'm richer than you," said Faye. Instead of looking happy about it, she seemed sullen.

  "So you didn't marry me for my money?" he replied incredulously, his voice rising.

  "How many times do I have to tell you I never wanted your money?" Faye yelled back. Her lawyer placed a calm hand on her wrist and shook his head, causing Faye to fall silent. I held back a smile at the display of pique that had probably been a long time coming with her pig-headed husband.

  "But you wanted to give up work and be a kept woman!" he yelled back. On his side of the table, his lawyer repeated the same calming motion.

  "You asked me to expose any financial motivation in this marriage and I believe there was," I said.

  "Hah! I knew it!" huffed Steve. "What did she do?"

  "You're a jerk," said Faye.

  "You're both jerks," I said. "If either of you learned how to communicate, you wouldn't be in this mess."

  "What?" I wasn't sure who spat that question but all heads turned to me again.

  "Mrs. Wendell did make a request for support. Emotional support for herself."

  "She asked for money," butted in Steve.

  "Not for herself. She wanted to set up a college fund. She explained everything to me," I said calmly although I really wanted to bash their heads together.

  "A college fund? She's been to college! She has a master’s degree!"

  "Not me, you moron!" yelled Faye, standing up and leaning across the table. "I wanted to set one up for our baby but the moment I brought up the subject of money, you wouldn't let me get a word in. You ranted and raved before you threw me out!"

  Steve shot to his feet. "You asked for... wait! What?" He stood a little straighter, frown lines etched deeply across his forehead. "You're... pregnant?"

  "Yes, I am! And I wanted to talk about college funds for our baby and taking some time off work so I could be a mom."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I tried! You wouldn't listen!"

  "But you've been gone weeks!"

  "You wouldn't take my calls. What was I supposed to do? Drop you an email that you wouldn't even read?"

  "I... I..." Steve stuttered, knowing he was cornered.

  "I've had to live in a hotel, being sick every morning, dealing with your lawyers and my lawyers and a private investigator digging through our affairs," Faye said quietly as she dropped back into her seat. "It's been awful. I'm nauseous all the time and my fingers are too fat to wear my rings."

  "To be fair, I didn't hound you," I said quietly, trailing off when I realized no one was listening. The Wendells were focused on each other and their lawyers were focused on them.

  "I am so sorry," said Steve. Instead of sitting, he pushed back his chair and walked around the table, reaching out to his wife. When she wouldn't take his hand, or even stand up, he dropped his hand to his side. "Can you ever forgive me?" he asked softly.

  Faye crossed her arms and looked away. "Why should I when you're divorcing me?"

  "I'll stop it. I'll stop all of it... if you want me to?" he asked hesitantly. Faye bit her lip and stared at the floor.

  "Of course she wants you too," I chipped in. "Both of you told me, separately, you don't want to be divorced. Neither of you has done anything wrong except you both have very poor communication skills. Steve, you didn't listen. Faye, you should have started with the pregnancy. Those skills can be polished before the baby comes." I pushed the envelope into the middle of the table. "Inside is all the evidence you need that there was no financial wrongdoing on either part or any motivation to marry for money on either side. My agency has confirmed Faye's investment has made her a very rich woman. Additionally, there is some information about college funds that you might like to read. I’ve also included a list of marriage counselors who can help you communicate better."

  "Good work," said Faye’s lawyer, reaching for the envelope. He shot a death glare at Steve's lawyer, Marianne, as she reached for the envelope. "I'll make you a copy," he hissed.

  "Don't stiff me with the whole bill," she hissed back.

  "I would never!"

  "You stiffed me with the breakfast bill," she whispered, entirely oblivious to my observing them with absolute fascination.

  "You chose the restaurant."

  "Only because you can't cook!"

  I raised my eyebrows and glanced away from them, but not before noticing Faye had gotten to her feet and the Wendells now had their arms wrapped around each other, whispering things in each other's ears that I hoped wouldn't lead to another miscommunication. I couldn't help smiling. My work was done. I successfully saved a marriage and wrapped up a case all before lunch. Speaking of lunch... I glanced at my watch. Solomon would be waiting for me.

  "Please don't hesitate to call if you need further assistance," I said, not that anyone was listening. Leaving one couple caressing and the lawyers bickering about their own relationship issues, I grabbed my purse and hightailed it out of the boardroom.

  ~

  "How did it go?" asked Solomon when I slid into the booth twenty minutes later.

  "Case is all wrapped up and the clients appeared satisfied," I told him. "I'm sure they will be happy to settle the bill as soon as you send it. This is nice. I'm glad we can meet for lunch."

  "Since you spent the evening whining about your sore muscles, something I didn’t quite understand about idiot former colleagues, and then ate three quarters of the Chinese food I picked up before falling asleep, I figured we could have a nice lunch."

  "It wasn't the best evening," I agreed, "But the food was great." The takeout also eliminated the green smoothie aftertaste and I was sure I could justify the delicious food, thanks to the workout. I might not be any fitter but I certainly wasn't any worse off.

  "I thought you were trying to eat healthier in the run-up to the wedding."

  "I am but all that exercise meant I had to load up on food. I needed protein."

  "Lean protein not crispy, battered protein in sauce."

  "I had a healthy breakfast," I pointed out. "All that fruit."

  "On pancakes."

  "Made from eggs. They're healthy!"

  "Maple syrup?"

  "Organic. It said so on the bottle."

  Solomon simply shook his head. "You look fine as you are. I don't know why you're worried, although I think your definition of worried and mine are two different things."

  The server approached us and took our order: two chicken salads. It was healthy, tasty and I would feel thoroughly virtuous. The way I saw it was, I could eat whatever I damn well pleased, just so long as I didn't eat mountains of it. Unlike some of my friends and relatives over the years, I hadn't become obsessed with dieting although I was not foolish enough to pretend my metabolism was that of someone ten years younger. When it came to food consumption, I was just sensible. Four words I never thought I'd use to describe myself but that was maturity for you.

  "So do you want this to be your last case before the wedding?" Solomon continued. "There are several final preparations to do and I can't help until the end of the week when I wrap up my current site visit." Solomon was working with a local private school to upgrade their security systems after a burglary resulted in the theft of all their IT equipment. The school was part of a wealthy consortium and he hoped the others in the group would also want to upgrade their security systems.

  "Actually, I might have another case. A walk-in," I told him. I gave him the overview of the case and waited for his comment.

  "What's your impression?"

  I sucked air into my cheeks and blew it out again, pulling a puzzled face. "I don't know. There doesn't appear to be anything in it and yet... I keep thinking about it. I met Julia, the apparent victim, by chance at the gym, that's who the potential client is worried about, and there's definitely... something. I don't know what it is. I can't quite put my finger on it. Jas has a hunch. I have a gut feeling."

  "I'm not giving you anymore cases so take a few days to explore it. See if there's anything in it that sets off any alarm bells. If you find something, come to me and I'll assign it to someone."

  "Thanks," I said, feeling strangely relieved. A few days were all I needed to delve into some background research. Plus, there was the small matter of the tank that would be a trickier topic. "There's something else but it's highly confidential."

  Solomon nodded. "Of course."

  "I mean classified confidential."

  That got Solomon's attention. "Classified as in... officially classified?" he asked.

  We paused as the server delivered our food, then leaned in across the table to speak quietly in the busy diner. "It involves the Army only... they don't know about it."

  "You lost me."

  "Remember I told you about the time I joined the Army?" Solomon's lips quivered as he tried not to smile. "Yes, okay. It wasn't my finest hour. A couple of my Army buddies got in touch with me last night about a problem they need my help with. It doesn't sound huge, it just sounds... dumb." Might as well call it what it was. "They lost a tank."

  Solomon's eyes widened. "How does someone lose a tank?"

  I pulled a face. "They weren't absolutely clear on that."

  "A tank?"

  "Yep."

  "An actual tank?"

  "They showed me a picture and yes, it's a real tank. Not a little, diddly, toy one."

  "A tank?" repeated Solomon.

  "I think we've established that."

  "I'm incredulous. I feel like I need to ask again."

  "I will only keep saying yes."

  "To every question?"

  "Yes."

  "Early night tonight?"

  "I knew you would throw in a trick question but... yes." When Solomon raised his hand, I high-fived it. "So about that tank. They need help finding it."

  "Shouldn't be too difficult. It will stand out. Not many tanks rolling around the state."

  "That's what I said but they said they tried looking everywhere and they can't find it. It's missing and if they don't find it before some display thing they're putting on at Fort Charles, they're in big trouble. Hey, how much are tanks worth anyway?"

  "You can pick up a Scorpion tank on eBay for forty thousand dollars."

  "Wow! That's a lot of money."

  "What kind of tank did they lose?"

  I consulted the note I made on my phone. "An Abrams battle tank. Latest model."