“Good evening. I’m Bennett Archer,” Bennett said, walking over to the men. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

The two detectives flashed their badges again. “We’d like to talk to you about a mugging that happened in an alley late on Friday night. Two men were attacked and robbed,” Stan said, sizing up Bennett. “It was a few blocks from here.”

“A mugging? That’s horrible. I do hope they weren’t terribly injured.”

“They’ll survive.”

“Not to be rude, gentlemen, but I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”

Stan Krankowski flipped open his notepad. “About six weeks ago, two other men were attacked late at night under similar circumstances. At the time, we didn’t have much to go on. Honestly, their story seemed a little far-fetched, except their statement and the one we received from the other men on Friday seemed to contain a lot of the same details.”

“I’m intrigued,” Bennett said, folding her arms. “Please go on.”

“They described their attacker as being a tall, blue-eyed, Caucasian woman—”

“Wait. Are you saying a woman was the perpetrator of these attacks?”

“That’s what the victims say.”

“Brings a whole new meaning to equal rights, I suppose,” Bennett said, shrugging. “Please continue.”

“She was dressed all in black. She had on a suit and a long coat with a hood, and spoke with an English accent,” Stan said, locking eyes with Bennett. “Miss Archer, do you wear contacts?”

“No. My vision is twenty-twenty, and I’m more than happy to give you the number of my optometrist if you’d like to check that out. She’s a sweet lady. Very pleasant.”

Stan looked at his notes. “What about the coat? Miss Archer, do you own a long black coat with a hood?”

“I own several, actually,” Bennett said, sliding her hands into the pockets of her trousers. “As a matter of fact, I recently purchased two more. Joey King and Sons, the leather shop over in Weymouth, had a huge sale a few months back. By the time I arrived, they’d sold out of quite a bit, but I still found a few to take home.”

“I see,” Tully said, jotting down some notes.

“Do you mind if I ask a question?” Bennett said, watching as he scribbled something on the pad.

“Go ahead.” Tully O’Brien said, looking up.

“What were these men doing in alleys? You said it happened late at night, and that doesn’t seem to me to be a wise decision on their part.”

The two detectives looked at each other, and Stan snickered. “Let’s just say that none of our...um...victims live upstanding lives.”