“point.” “That matchbook Gertie found at the lab site seems to fit with this Benedict character,” I said. “You know what this means?” Ida Belle said. I flopped back in my chair. “That we have to go to the Swamp Bar and see if we catch this Benedict doing something suspicious.” I pointed a finger at them. “But I’m not dressing like a hooker again, and I’m definitely not doing a wet T-shirt contest.” “Oh!” Gertie sat upright. “I just remembered. At the festival yesterday, some of the usual Swamp”