Unable to live on the small salary the sheriff’s department paid her, Ronni had found a part-time job at Heavenly Bodies, the new fitness spa at the Tri-County Mall. Her track record there appeared to be more of the same. She’d sold more memberships than anyone else on the staff, but the members she’d signed were almost all male. Several local wives weren’t happy about their husbands’ resolve to get into shape by joining one of Ronni’s exercise classes or hiring her as their personal fitness coach after hours.

“Here comes Cyril,” Hannah said as Bridget’s husband attempted and failed to intercept his wife before she reached Ronni’s table.

The two sisters watched for a moment. At first only words were exchanged, but with each salvo, Bridget’s frown grew fiercer and Ronni’s scowl etched deeper.

“What’s happening?” Bill asked, tapping his wife on the shoulder.

“Ronni Ward’s arguing with Bridget Murphy, but Cyril’s there and he’s trying to break it up.”

Almost simultaneously, Bill and Mike reached for another piece of pizza. Hannah thought she knew what was running through their minds. Bertanelli’s had the best pizza in Minnesota. If Bill and Mike had to leave to break up a catfight between Ronni Ward and Bridget Murphy, they wanted to finish their lunch first.

“Bridget doesn’t look happy,” Andrea went on with her running commentary.

Hannah watched Bridget’s husband put himself in what might be harm’s way to block Bridget’s access to Ronni.

The women’s voices became louder, and Bill reached for a final piece of pizza. “What’s happening now?”

“I think it’s almost over,” Andrea told him. “Cyril’s got Bridget in one of those holds you see on the wrestling channel, and he’s hauling her away. I wonder what set her off?”

Ronni did, Hannah thought, but she didn’t say it. She’s enough to set any woman off. “I wonder if Ellie knows where Bert is,” Hannah speculated.

“She knows. She’s over there at the kitchen door, just staring at Bert. If looks could kill, Bert would be a statistic. One of these days Ronni is going to get hers, and it won’t be pretty.”

“Right,” Hannah said, and then she leaned across the table and lowered her voice. “I just hope I’m there to see it.”

“Me too! Maybe someone ought to call Stephanie Bascomb, and Sally Percy, and Amalia Greerson, and invite them to come out here for lunch.”

“You wouldn’t!” Hannah said, giving her sister a long hard look.

“Probably not, but it’s fun to think about what would happen if somebody…uh-oh! Bridget got loose!”