Chesapeake Crimes: Invitation to Murder. Donna Andrews

yes, I can pay you twenty dollars.”

      Kitty Kats rolled her eyes and pointed to a door to the left of the stage. Amelia followed her down a narrow, smelly hallway and out a door where the sunshine and clean air greeted her once again.

      Kitty lit up then held her hand out for payment, which Amelia provided.

      “Whaddya want, lady?”

      Where to start? “Do you have a, um, I’m not sure how one refers to it. A fan perhaps? A man named Norbert Emerson?”

      “I go out of my way not to ask last names, lady. But I know a Norbie. He comes around. And sure, you can call him a fan.” Kitty laughed and smoke streamed from her nose. “You his wife?”

      “No,” Amelia protested. “No. It is just that he seems to be connected to a certain problem I am having. How about Jimmy Jiggs? Do you know a Mr. Jimmy Jiggs?”

      “Never heard of him.”

      “How about a private investigator named Mac Hardcase?” This seemed an even more ludicrous question given that Hardcase was fictional, but perhaps the character had been based on an actual person.

      “Definitely never heard of him,” the dancer said.

      Amelia thought the response interesting. Was Miss Kitty not “definitely” sure she’d never heard of Jimmy Jiggs?

      The door pushed open and Killer stepped out, using his body to keep it from closing. “Kitty, Skunk wants ya. Says get yer keister in here now.”

      Kitty stamped out her cigarette on the gravel. “You heard the man,” she said to Amelia. “Break’s over. You’d better scram.”

      Not sure how her newfound knowledge would help her, Amelia decided to take the young woman’s suggestion and return home. She was short on time anyway.

      “It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance,” Amelia said. “If I follow this gravel path around the building, will that lead to the lot where I parked my car?”

      “Not so fast, lady,” Killer said. “Skunk wants ya both.”

      “Damn,” Kitty said. “You shoulda scrammed faster.”

      Amelia was bewildered to say the least. “I am wanted as well?”

      “Yeah.” Killer grunted.

      “Who is this Skunk, if I might ask?” The name had an ominous ring.

      “He’s a guy.” Detail did not seem to be Killer’s strong suit.

      Amelia was getting the distinct impression that her options were limited, but she attempted an easy escape in the off chance she was mistaken. “Please thank him for the invitation, but I must be getting home. My family is waiting for me. Once their croquet game is complete, Angus will garden and Teddy will want me to listen while he practices reciting the Gettysburg Address. Sunday rituals you know.”

      “Nice try,” Killer said. “Now, if you don’t want those legs of yours broken, use ’em to follow Kitty into Skunk’s parlor. Kitty, show her the way.”

      * * * *

      Skunk’s parlor turned out to be a poorly lit room with purple walls and gaudy furniture upholstered in faux animal fur. The “guy” himself, however, appeared to be a missing feature. Though Amelia knew she should be afraid for his eventual arrival, somehow she was not. Perhaps, she thought, this Mr. Skunk would provide the answers she sought.

      Kitty made her way immediately to a bar in the corner where she poured herself a drink, appearing far less calm than Amelia.

      “I’ll be right outside, so don’t think about makin’ for it.” Killer closed them in.

      “This has gotta be about Jimmy,” Kitty said after downing her drink in a single swig.

      “Jimmy Jiggs?” Amelia asked, trying to decide if taking a seat on one of the faux fur sofas would bring risk of parasitic insect infestation.

      “Yeah, Jimmy Jiggs.”

      “So, you do know him?”

      “More like, I knew him. You know Jimmy is dead, dontcha?”

      “Yes, I have heard.” Amelia, having poor circulation in her legs, sat on the edge of a sofa. “Shot dead in an alley, so I am told. Why did you lie to me?”

      “Cuz I’m scared for my life.”

      “Of this Skunk fellow?”

      “Sure. He probably thinks I know where Jimmy hid the scroll.”

      “This tale certainly ripens with age,” Amelia said. “What is the scroll?”

      “Jimmy said it was worth lots of dough. More than I could imagine. Somethin’ about it bein’ a handwritten invitation from one king to another king. Egyptian times or Roman maybe. I ain’t real keen on history, so it goes over my head.”

      “Did Jimmy have the scroll with him while waiting to meet Mac Hardcase?” Amelia almost laughed at her words when she heard them aloud.

      “Now him, I don’t know. I definitely never heard of no one named Hardcase.”

      “Truly?” Amelia asked.

      “Yeah, I swear on a stack.”

      “I am so confused.” So Mac Hardcase was fictional, but Jimmy Jiggs and Kitty Kats were real. Could Teddy have overheard Norbert mention them sometime and then used their names in his story? Amelia guessed that was possible, but Miss Kats just said that Jimmy Jiggs had died, and Teddy had known that as well. It would be too much of a coincidence for Teddy to have imagined Jimmy’s shooting so soon after it actually occurred. But how could he have possibly known? Amelia shook her head. “Maybe I need a doctor. Maybe you and this establishment are all a figment of my imagination.”

      Kitty poured another drink and walked it to the sofa. “This is as real as it gets, lady.”

      “Call me Amelia.”

      “Okay, Amelia, you look like you could use a stiff one.” Kitty handed Amelia the highball glass. “Here’s the line: Norbie is deep in with a loan shark named Rat Man.”

      Amelia inspected the contents of the glass with some skepticism. “Who names these poor men? No wonder they have turned to a life of crime.”

      Kitty sat next to Amelia. “Norbie’s vig was due and he didn’t have the cash.”

      “Well that doesn’t confuse me in the least,” Amelia said, finally testing the drink with a small sip. She winced and set it on a table beside the sofa. “Norbert Emerson owes us money as well. Perhaps this Rat Man can help us collect. But what does this all have to do with Jimmy Jiggs and the scroll?”

      “Norbie gave the scroll to Jimmy, told him to sell it, and said he’d give Jimmy a cut and pay off Rat Man.”

      “So, someone killed Jimmy for the scroll.”

      “That’s right,” said a man emerging from the shadows. He wore a pin-striped suit and a dapper pair of dress shoes. His most defining feature, however, was his long black hair striped white, right down the middle. “Someone did kill Jimmy.”

      Amelia felt sick at the sight of the shiny pistol he had aimed at her and Kitty Kats. She raised her shaking hands instinctively, the way she’d seen people do in the movies.

      “You were here the whole time?” Kitty asked.

      “I have a talent for blending in to my surroundings. Very interesting story you are telling about Jimmy, but here is a little fact: Jimmy Jiggs didn’t have the scroll on him when he died. I want that scroll, Kitty. Tell me where it is.”

      “I don’t know, Skunk. I swear on a stack.”

      “Excuse me, Mr. Skunk, sir,” Amelia said with a quivering voice. “How do you know