“I think you’ve answered all of our questions,” said Conner, walking towards her while taking one last look at the massive room. “We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”

“You can always count on me to support law and order,” said Zoe, smiling at Conner as she walked the two agents down the long hallway through the octagonal-shaped foyer to the front door. “I write mystery and crime stories. Would it be okay if I occasionally called you with questions about FBI protocols so I can get my facts straight?”

Conner smiled and nodded. “Sure.”

“If you find the bank robber, will I have to testify?” asked Zoe. “Because I think I’d be great on the stand. I pay very close attention to details. I probably should have joined the FBI myself.”

Conner stifled a laugh by turning it into a smile. “It’s never too late. The age cut-off for an FBI agent is thirty-seven. You look like you’ve got a few years to go before you’d be disqualified.”

Zoe blushed and grinned as she let the two agents out. With her head still buzzing from the fabulousness of being interviewed by the FBI, she lay down on the living-room couch and examined Conner Brandt’s business card. Special Agent Conner Brandt. He was so cute and he carries a gun, too. I love that. Did I say “You can always count on me to support law and order”? Ugh. Why did I say that?

A week later, Zoe’s doorman buzzed her apartment. There was an FBI agent in the lobby who wanted to speak to her. Zoe’s heart beat faster while she waited for the knock on her front door, hoping it would be Conner Brandt.

“Agent Brandt,” said Zoe, her eyes wild and fluttery as she opened the door. “Was there another robbery? Because I’ve been thinking, I didn’t see that bank robber, but the more I played the scene over in my head, it occurred to me that his voice sounded a lot like this man who works in the fruit market I go to on Columbus Avenue and 93rd Street. Same exact accent. I think he’s Moroccan.”

Conner tried to respond but Zoe kept going. “You’re probably wondering why I go so far out of my way when there are much closer produce markets,” said Zoe, shifting her voice to a loud whisper. “Don’t tell anyone, it’s a little-known secret but that market has the best mangos and melons on the West Side. It’s totally worth the trip. And, their prices are insanely low. Do you want me to describe the man at the fruit market to you?”

“Actually, I came to tell you we’ve closed the bank robbery case. We caught the shooter. He was in another robbery in the Bronx and was shot and killed two days ago.”