Free Euphoria Lane by Tina Swayzee McCright Page B

from Helen’s driveway.
    “Once I e-mail these pictures to Luke, the entire board will know we are out to stop them.” Meg slowed her pace after they turned the corner. “I can’t wait to see the look on Harry’s face. He’s going to explode, and I’m going to catch it all on film.”
    Andi pictured Harry throwing a fit. “A temper tantrum would break the excessive noise rule.”
    “I have to admit, at first the idea of this whole war scared the nail color off my toes, but now it feels good to be doing something to fight back.” Meg grabbed Andi’s arm. “Stop.” She pointed to a squad car up ahead. “They have Bernice’s son.”
    Two officers were escorting a tall, lanky man to their police cruiser.
    Andi watched them fold his thin body into the backseat. Bernice’s son?
    “They’re arresting the reverend?”

FIVE
    Andi adjusted her eyes to the dim lighting of the bar down the street from the diner where her sister worked undercover. They couldn’t talk at the diner and Jessie didn’t have time to go home, so they met at a bar owned by their uncle Max, the black sheep of the family. The heavy aroma of stale beer made Andi gag. Nearby a leather-clad biker with a scraggly beard leaned back to follow her movements.
    Max’s longtime girlfriend tended bar during the less-crowded hours of the day. Clad all in black and sporting more tattoos than most men, Agnes could put the fear of God into any man with just a look. She set her evil snake eyes on Scraggily Beard and he took his sights off Andi.
    “Your sister’s in the back, sweet thing,” Agnes said. She pointed the way with a whiskey bottle.
    “Thanks,” Andi mumbled with a half smile. Clutching her purse to her chest like a shield, Andi rushed past the empty bar stools in search of her sister. Not that anyone would mistake her for a single woman on the prowl for a one-night stand—after Jessie called and pleaded for her to come right away, Andi had pulled an oversize, gray sweatshirt on over her clothes.
    A man occupying the last stool leaned toward her, then passed out cold on the peanut-shell-littered floor. Andi gasped. A drunk stumbled over him on his way to the john. She spotted a bulky bouncer and pointed to the man on the floor. He nodded and sauntered over.
    “You came!” Jessie slid out of a dark booth. Her undercover outfit of the day, a tie-dye top, a peace-sign-print miniskirt, and white go-go boots caught the attention of every man in the bar.
    Andi shook her head with a smirk. “Nancy Sinatra called. She wants her boots back.”
    Jessie turned in a circle to model her ensemble. “You like? Sixties night. Of course, I hear if you remember the sixties, you didn’t experience the decade.”
    Impatient and wanting to escape, Andi changed the subject. “So what was so important it couldn’t wait until you got home?”
    Her sister’s expression turned serious. “Bathroom. We need to hurry. I have to be back at the diner in ten minutes.” She pulled Andi by the hand.
    “Here we go again.” Lately she’d been dragged from one bizarre situation to another. As far as restrooms go, this was one of the worst. It smelled like someone had dropped a case of cheap perfume on top of a mixture of hair products and citrus room freshener. Andi chose her steps carefully, doing her best to avoid the trail of toilet paper that had unrolled from the stall without a door. Her sister marched over the stained, scuffed, gray linoleum that bubbled beneath a scum-coated, leaking sink.
    Jessie checked to make sure they were alone before locking them inside the bathroom. “I have good news. Lenny lowered the price on his agency.”
    “That’s wonderful!”
    “We’re meeting tomorrow morning to sign papers.” Her smile finally reached her eyes. “I own a detective agency!”
    They screamed with joy while jumping up and down like teenagers.
    A knock sounded on the door.
    “Occupied!” Jessie yelled.
    “Open up!” a woman’s shrill voice pierced