"Don't get going with the Holy Mary stuff," I said to my mother. "It's not that bad."

"So what should I do if I see her again?" Grandma asked. "You want me to put a hole in her?"

"No! I just don't want you to invite her in for tea!"

My father helped himself to more cabbage rolls. "Next time put in less rice," he said.

"Frank," my mother said, "are you listening to this?"

My father picked up his head. "What?"

My mother smacked herself on the forehead.

Sally had been bent over his plate, shoveling in cabbage rolls like there was no tomorrow. He paused and looked at me, and I could hear the gears grinding in his brain. Pretty girl. Lots of makeup. Note. Bad person. "Uh oh," Sally said.

"I'm going to have to eat and run," I said to my mother. "I have to work tonight."

"There's chocolate chip cookies for desert."

I laid my napkin on the table. "I'll put them in a bag."

My mother jumped to her feet. "I'll do it."

We had labor laws in the burg. Mothers do brown bags. That's it. No exceptions. All over the country people were looking for ways to get out of work. In the burg, housewives militantly guarded their responsibilities. Even working mothers refused to relinquish the assembling of lunch or leftovers. And while other family members might from time to time be recruited to mop the kitchen floor, do the laundry, polish the furniture, no one performed the task to housewife standards.

I took the cookie bag and ushered Sally out of the house. It was early, and we really didn't need to leave, but I didn't think I'd hold up to the grilling. There was no good way to tell my mother I was being stalked by a homicidal drag queen.

My mother and grandmother were at the door, watching us get in the car. They stood backs straight, hands clasped. Lips pressed tight together. Good Hungarian women. My mother wondering where she went wrong, wondering why I was riding around with a man wearing rhinestone earrings. My grandmother wishing she was with us.

"I have a key," I called to them. "So, it probably would be a good idea to lock up."

"Yeah," Sally added, "and don't stand in front of any open windows."

My mother did another sign of the cross.

I started the car. "We need to end this," I told Sally. "I'm fed up with being scared, worrying that Sugar's going to jump out at me and set my hair on fire."

"I talked to all the guys in the band, and no one's heard from him."

I drove toward Chambers. Truth is, I'd abdicated dealing with Sugar. "Tell me about Sugar," I said. "Tell me the stuff you told the police."