My motorcycle took me home. Sleep eluded me, so I re-read some old Amazing Stories issues. When the sun rose, I brewed a cup of joe. Maybe it was the coffee, but a notion popped in my head to catch Millie on her way to school. "Don't," I told myself. But I didn't listen. I shaved and drove over to the Largo residence.

I almost knocked on the front door, but it opened. Millie and a pale, pale Ike came out, dressed for school.

"Morning, Detective," Ike said. He could meet my gaze. That made me hopeful. Maybe he learned something, after all. The lanky kid even managed a pale smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Lucy," Millie said, pushing close. In a puff of perfumed air, I felt a moist press of young lips on my cheek. Millie departed with an impish glance at me over her shoulder, and then they were down the steps and on their way.

Bemused, I rotated to follow them.

"What's the hurry, Detective?" came a voice from inside.

The sleek syllables caressed my ear like cornsilk. I turned. She leaned lazily against the doorframe, eyelids droopy over mink colored eyes. Her hand toyed with the end of the rope that failed to adequately close her bathrobe. Amber hair coiled carelessly on her shoulders. She had a shape that would send photographers scrambling for their cameras. I had an impulse to grab my hat before it blew off my head.

"Er. Hello. I'm Drew Lucy."

"I heard."

Her insolent, measuring gaze reached into my spine and straightened it. "Er. You have me at a disadvantage, ma'am." I touched the brim of my hat.

She laughed. A low, throaty sound like a well-oiled motor revving. "Pardon me. I thought you might have figured it out. I'm Bianca Largo." She dangled her left hand between us. A cluster of diamonds hugged her finger.

My face probably twitched. "Nice to make your acquaintance, ma'am." Fuzzily, I recalled hearing that the chief had remarried, so this probably shouldn't have surprised me. On the other hand, I couldn't think straight. My head swam under the spell of sirensong, and Millie's perfume wafted enticingly in the air. Bianca's perfume, rather. Now, I knew where Millie had gained access to the scent, but Millie didn't wear it like Bianca did. Millie was apprentice. Bianca was master. Mistress, I mean.

"Come in for coffee."

When her request permeated my foggy consciousness, I blinked. "Ah, no, thank you, Mrs. Largo. I'm on my way into the station." That wasn't the real reason. The real reason was that I didn't want to be disemboweled by the chief for having seen Mrs. Largo in a loose robe with ... lacy things peeking out. She made my heart race, for sure, but some fraction of my reaction was due to a subsurface current of danger.

"I'm disappointed, Detective Lucy." Her smile was a difficult curve to escape from. "Perhaps some other time. We have things in common."

"W-we do? Er. Some other time. Sorry to skedaddle."

I exaggerated. Half of me wanted to stay for coffee, badly. The other half of me felt like I had escaped a viper's nest. I walked away, with care. I'd hate to stumble at this point. I felt mink eyes on me, and the hairs on the back of my neck felt as though they might take a long while to unprickle.

As I reached the gate in the little picket fence, a car came by, too slowly. A Rolls Royce Silver Phantom, brand new. The driver glanced at me, then pretended not to see me. In contrast, I stared at him. It was like an echo. A thick, determined jaw nestled on a gristly neck. Black hair with a few gray ones at the temple framed a poker player's expressionless profile. It was Chief Largo's lookalike again, same as late last night. The suit was different — if anything, more expensive than last night's. The Rolls Royce accelerated away effortlessly, purring with barely-tapped power.

Shaking loose of my bemusement, I turned to look at Bianca Largo. She locked eyes with mine. As she stared at me the tip of her tongue traveled slowly left to right across her upper row of teeth under her lips.  I felt like a steak on a plate, about to be doused with Worcestershire sauce and cut into bite-sized cubes.