Belief

The Monsieur hissed.
Suddenly the doors of The Neptune Bar [and tea-rooms] opened again and in staggered Bunty with a heavy tray of freshly baked macaroons for the Monsieur.
" What's all this nonsense about a Bog-Unicorn? Everybody knows that the Bog-Unicorn is a mythical creature and that it's blood is made from lemon curd and a sprinkle of nutmeg. The only thing that keeps a mythical beast such as a Bog-Unicorn alive is belief. Belief in the implausible; belief in the impossible."
And as her words registered with the collection of dwarves, humans and the Amazon, all the women began to wrinkle and age . . .
Violet screamed as Swotsy . . .

And then the door to the pub crashed open and in stepped a gloriously blond Amazon, aiming two gleaming silver pistols at the Monsieur. She was at least six foot six, and every curve on her was exaggerated, her tiny rock hard waist, her bountiful bosoms that pulled at the constraints of her button down shirt, her ass, oh her ass with it's firm and rippled glutes that reminded Swotsy of nothing less than a prize race horse. Her muscled shoulders filled the door frame.

All the little people looked up at her and gasped. As did Swotsy. Poor confused Swotsy, her head spun, her loins burned.

The Monsieur, however narrowed his eyes and stalked the floor. Dwarves scattered to all corners.

There was no time for confusion. Swotsy pulled her weapon, as did all the other police in the room and the Monsieur just laughed.

"Those will not harm me." He tossed the nearest police man into the wall, and he grunted and slid down to the floor, unconscious. The hail of bullets that followed, he just laughed off. When it quieted, and the dwarves all peeked from behind their cover,

The blond goddess spoke. "But mine will. They are silver... that would be poison to your system wouldn't it?"

"The Giant Queen!" they dwarves whispered in awe from their hiding places. "The Giant Queen."

From her great height, the Amazon, looked down upon them and the whispers ended.

"I've got your back, Captain Velkiris. I don't know how you knew what was going on, but I'm ready," Joe said, his trusty gun warm in his hand.

"Stand down, Sargeant," she said, her steely eyes never leaving the Monsieur's. "I sent you in here without knowledge and without the proper equipment. Your bullets will just pass through him. If I had prepared you, if you had known, the Monsieur would never have exposed himself by following you in here. I needed you to be too attractive to his needs. I needed you as bait. And he was, wasn't he, Monsieur?"

The Monsieur hissed.

The Crushing Dance

Randy looked on as Joe and Violet swirled around the dance floor at a hectic pace. A sugarpush followed by an underarm turn, a kick ball change and a Lindy whip lift and then . . . a throwout and Violet flew through the air . . . and before Randy knew it he could feel Violet's muscular thighs crushing his windpipe . . .
Randy grappled with Violet, aroused and choking at the same time, he somehow managed to loosen her grip. Violet fell backwards onto the floor. Randy struggled for his gun and had Joe in his sights. But Vi, as ever, was too quick for Randy and with a simple star jump that she'd learnt at aerobics, she jumped and kicked Randy hard on the side of the head.

"Of course what happened after was all a bit of a blur . . . but the gun landed at Bill's feet . . . " Said Kitten to Swotsy sometime later.

"I know what happened." Said Daisy confidently.

"Come on then, from where Bill picked up the gun."

Daisy looked at Swotsy, happy to be of service to her idol,

"Well it was like this . . .

He didn't know why he did it. It was a nonsensical choice, the opposite of everything he had ever learned in the Special Forces. It was almost as if he was possessed by the spirit of his mother. He could hear her voice in her head, as she led him through the routine, just like she had when he was little. Oh, those days were the best days, his mom, in her sober moments, in the yard of the house, teaching Joe and Violet the routine that they would perform every year for the Christmas pageant.

He remembered how their little circus number had made Randy feel uncomfortable. They had always laughed at him for it, but he could see the deep unease in his eyes when they did it. Right now, Randy thought he was in control, covered in blood, holding Bill's old gun steady on the pair of them. Gloating.

He whispered into Violet's ear, "remember the lift."

A flash of understanding entered into her tear stained, shocked eyes, and all she had to do was blink to tell him she knew what he wanted. And then, with a tensing of his muscles and an effortless grace on her part, they started the routine.

Randy

It was up to Violet. That was the one thing she knew, when the Council introduced her to the black mask and told her all the secrets that hid in Little Hampton Point Valley. That summer, her beauty, which had been considerable to start with, suddenly seemed to entrap every male who looked at her, she knew she had the power to free Joe.

And that night, behind the bar, with their few, brief stolen moments, her heart was breaking, even as she lay twisted in his arms in the shadows, with a brawl going on just outside.

"Joe," she said, and she knew she could do this. "I don't love you." The words were cold and strong, although she was weeping inside. She thought maybe it was the powers of the black mask that allowed her to be not quite human. She looked at his face, flushed from sex and love, and all of a sudden she wanted to bite that throbbing vein in his neck. Her cool evaporated. She leaned in to him to smell the blood pulsing through his body.

"I don't love you, Joe," the words were a vicious hiss as she tried to control the bloodlust. They had warned her, the council, but this was the first time she had felt it. "I won't ever marry you."

"What?" He said, dazed, confused. This did not make sense. What about the summer that seemed to last forever and fill with with joy? "That's not true Vi." He said. He saw her clench her hands together and grit her teeth.

"I was USING you," she spit out, "to make my father jealous. Obviously it worked. I am done with you."

"No, Vi..."

"Yes, I don't ever want to see you again. No one does. Even your mother can't stand to be around you. Why do you think she drinks so much. She tells everyone at the bar what a waste you are when she's on one of her benders and you're not around." Violet had gotten control of herself finally and was spilling all that hunger and heat into her words, watching the reactions on Joe's face. The hunger was feeding off of his pain, but inside, Violet thought that she would never have happiness again. She was not good enough to be happy. She was not good enough to have Joe in her life.

"Face it," she said as she rearranged her clothes and pulled bottle caps out of her mussed hair. "There's no reason for you to even be alive." With that, she stormed off. She ran home and threw herself on the bed to cry and cry and cry.

But he didn't know that. All he knew was that he had to get out of this town. He snuck out the kitchen door (everyone was still watching Bill and Jack brawl, so there were no witnesses) and disappeared into the night. No one ever saw him again...

Until 7 years later.

And here he was, with Violet's arms wrapped around him, watching her sob. And he knew. He knew without knowing how he knew that she really did love him and always had. What he didn't know was why she had lied all those years ago and why she had chased him away.

"What are we going to do?" she asked him, their hearts beating as one as their chests pressed together. "My father has kidnapped our son."

The fury rose in him and his hands itched for his gun. That was when the door burst open.

Randy stood there, covered in blood, holding a gun.

He should have been shocked, he should have reached for that gun in his waist holster, but oddly, what came out of his mouth was, "That's my father's gun."

Randy smiled, cold and hard. "I know. I took it off your brother Clive when I shot him."

"You!" Violet gasped.

"That's right. I'm the Dwarf Catcher. You thought I was too stupid to be a danger. You thought I was so stupid you wouldn't even look at me, not the way you're looking at him," he waved the gun at Joe. "Or the way you look at that freak Swotsy. She's a lesbian, you know, Joe. She's never going give it up to you again."

"You don't know what you're getting into, Randy. Don't listen to the Monsieur. He's using you."

"Oh, no more than I'm using him," Randy said and smiled. "And I do know what I'm getting in to. You bitches on the freak side of town always thought you were better than anyone else, and now I know why. Oh yes. CJ told me all about it, thinking he was saving me. Then I shot him. One more dead dwarf to send to the Monsieur."

While Randy bragged about murder, Joe was getting into position

The Council of the Black Mask

That was when the girls learned about the terrible hunger the Black Mask incited in its daughters.

"No they are too young," Bitsy had argued before the council introduced the mask to Violet and Swotsy early that summer. And the council had nodded, knowing what a heavy price the mask demanded.

That was when Sister Margaret stood up.

This was the Black Council, and it was the one place that Sister Margaret could be free of the secrets that plagued her life.

"This is the only thing I have to give my daughter," her voice echoed in the suddenly quiet room. "For eighteen years I have had to hide the fact that I even bore a child. Even her name that I gave her has been forgotten for that ridiculous nick name. Swotsy Mondy." She spat on the floor in disgust. "I seduced Gideon Stone would be the answer to the blood price, but his blood and his seed was too weak. Magdalena was wrong."

Magdalena, Rowena's aged and still beautiful mother shook her head. "We were never sure about him. It was your own yearning, Margaret."

Sister Margaret frowned, and even that did not dissipate her loveliness. "Neither was that Bill the answer!" she spat.

"He was never the man that I thought he could be," Alice said. Then looked sister Margaret in the eye, "But I know that you still wanted to be chosen for him. Don't you deny it. You always wanted him, even when just a girl."

Margaret looked away.

"Bill was not the answer to our struggle," Magdalena said. "Wilma's son, Alice's son, and your secret daughter Swot-- Monica, they were the result of our risk. All for naught. The hunger remains for human blood. My prophecy was wrong and I am sorry for it. I must have misread the signs."

"But my son..." Alice said. "He could be the key!"

"We cannot depend on another man to remove the curse of the blood lust from the blessing of beauty. We must do this ourselves. The girls must be introduced, and the boy--"

Magdalena stood up. They all had to look down to see her, but that did not matter.
"The boy must leave," Magdalena said and the women of the council...

The Sex Scene (part 2)

"The sex scene only lasted 44 seconds, but he was a good snogger." Said Violet to Swotsy as they sat in their special place inside the nuclear reactor.
"I've heard it can be that way the first time, I've been reading Cosmopolitan in the Doctor's waiting room." Replied Swotsy.
"Oh Swots, was I expecting too much? Is that how it's supposed to be?"
"No Vi, I think it's supposed to be more like this...."

The Sex Scene

"What," she wondered aloud, "what in the hell is going on here?"

Joe could hear Sister Margaret outside in the street berating Bill and Jack as he chased after Violet and ito the bar. He found her crouched and trembling by the jukebox.

"Vi, I love you so much; I want to show you how much."

Violet looked up at Joe and held out her hand . . .

One of Those Nights

"I'll not have you touchin' my little girl!" He grabbed his daughter roughly and a little too familiarly around the waist and hips. "Not when I myself have barely---"

He caught himself just as someone playing an organ offstage hit about fourteen keys simultaneously, musically (if not exactly euphoniously) underlining the shock registering on the faces of those present. Violet's eyes were darting left and right and even -- as a tiny figure scampered by her, headed into the pub -- downwards for a sec. Sister Margaret looked as though she was about to pop Jack one in the snoot. Joe's mother fell backwards through the door still swinging from the dwarf's passage.

And from the alley came a roar: Bill, unleashed by fury, of a sudden moved by hatred of his rival more than he was content to let his disappointment of a son be beaten to death, it was Bill now leaping into the fray.

"He'll be touchin' whatever he wants to touch, Jack McGilligan," Bill's voice boomed, "and whoever come to that!"

Sister Margaret, cool as usual but a little disoriented by the turn of events, turned and popped not Jack but Bill in the snoot, and the old drunk crumpled to a heap there on the sidewalk. The organist, having dropped and then reassembled the sheet music for all this month's shows, struck up "Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling." It was a weird but not-bad selection.

Violet writhed out of Jack's grasp and bolted into the pub. Sister Margaret, rubbing her knuckles, seemed to forget her position for a moment. "What," she wondered aloud, "what in the hell

Violet and Joe had spent the day alone, frolicking on the beach, wandering through the woods looking for soft spots to lay, doing things that came naturally to two young, handsome, virile specimens. He didn't know about Vi, but he was dizzy with her nearness. Every time she leaned in to brush sand from his shoulder or kiss his ear, he felt as if his mind was floating 6 inches above his body.

But the day had to end, and then came the night.

Joe was walking Violet to the McGilligans where she was supposed to help her mother with the bar that night. Violet's steps slowed as they got closer to the pub.

"My father doesn't like you, Joe." Violet said.

His heart, which had been like a balloon in the sky all day long with her sunk like a lead weight. "He doesn't?"

She shook her head and looked away.

He knew there was something about him that made a person not like him. First his father left him, then his mother drank herself into oblivion so she didn't have to be his mother. Then Father Donohoe and Sister Margaret, and all the other adults of the village looked askance at him. And now Jack McGilligan? After all those dinners he'd had pulled up to Mr McGilligan's table along with his passel of kids, an extra son he'd been almost. And now he was now despised. He should have expected it. There was something wrong with Joe. Something inherently defective.

The only thing Joe really had was Violet.

"I don't think you should take me into the Pub, Joe. Maybe we should just say goodnight now."

They had stopped walking across the street from the pub. He turned to look at her. Her pale blond hair framed the heartbreakingly perfect face, the dark blue eyes, large and almond shaped, with the thickest lashes he had ever seen, and the rosy mouth, pink and full and so luscious it reminded him of things he shouldn't be thinking about in this conversation. He was mesmerized by her beauty. He felt trapped in a spell.

"I love you, Violet." It was the first time he had said it, although it had been burning in his heart all summer.

She looked afraid. For just a moment. Then she smiled. "Joe, I..." he saw a sadness in her eyes. Tears formed. He knew she loved him too, why did he have the feeling that she wasn't going to say it back? "I--" she stuttered, glancing toward the pub. "I love you to." The words came out in a rush, as if she didn't want anyone to hear them, to have evidence. But then, that moment, the moment that Joe would think back on for the next 7 years, it seemed to disappear as Violet threw her arms passionately around Joe and they kissed as if it was death not to.

"Violet Bridget McGilligan!" Jack's booming voice echoes across the empty street and Vi and Joe stepped apart. "I told you I did not want you doing this! I told you to leave that boy alone!"

Joe took in a deep breath and stepped forward. "I love your daughter, Mr McGilligan. I want to marry her."

"Joe!" Violet gasped as Jack's angry face got redder, almost purple.

"Violet!" Jack roared. "I. Said. To. Leave. This. Boy. Alone."

The yelling must have drawn attention from inside, because the front door opened and out poured the entire village, including his mother and, most improbably, Sister Margaret.

Joe was furious. He was horrified and he didn't know what to think.

What had he been thinking, coming "home?" He should have just come in, taken care of his business and disappeared again. Hadn't he learned over these last years that it was best to just BE the job. People always tore your heart out again and again.

He didn't know how long he had wandered over the fields and woods and village streets, searching his mind for some kind of sense in all of it, searching the town for answers.

There was no one here he could trust. When he thought about his mother, a muderess... he thought maybe there was no one here he ever could have trusted. He thought back to the drunken days, the days of neglect and grubbing around, trying to find family anywhere he could, and instead finding dwarves and lunkish sidekicks and the love of his life--

No! That bitch was not his love. She had betrayed him worse than anyone. A son, he thought. He had a son. And was he to start the same story over again? Abandoning the boy to the vagaries of his mother? Just another barmaid, twisted sexual tendencies and who knew what else.

He gasped. She hadn't aged a day since he left.

She was in on it!

And then he had a direction. A place to expend all his fury. He found himself at the McGilligan's door, not even pausing to knock. He slammed it open, his gun, out of instinct, comfortably in his grip.

There was Violet, gaping at him, mascara running down her face.

"Joe!" She said and

The Mask's Black Secret

What the hell was that?” Swotsy scanned the evening gloom.

“Cats. Just a bunch of cats. This whole town is filled with godamned cats.”

“Yeah, well, looks more like rats to me. If those little fur balls are cats, they’re the smallest ones I’ve ever seen. What are they, pygmies?”

Violet looked at her and then began to laugh. She bent over double, coughing as she sucked in the cold air. Despite the pain she couldn't stop and howled even louder.

“And what, may I ask, is so funny?” Swotsy was in no laughing mood. The situation was coming apart at the seams and it looked like Violet might be doing the same.

“Not pygmies.” Violet tried to stand upright, but didn’t manage. Her entire frame shook with manic laughter. “Those are, they’re . . . dwarf cats,” she finally choked out and then burst into tears.

Joe sat by himself, stretched out on a town square bench, hidden behind a cluster of snow-clad maple trees. It was cold, biting cold, but somehow it didn’t register with him in the least. His mind was far from snow and cold. The tiny piece of paper he held in his frozen fingers fluttered carelessly in the wind, a miniature white flag.

He had a nasty burning sensation in his stomach, as if he’d eaten lava for lunch. It briefly crossed his mind that he might get sick; that he might in fact vomit. He took a deep breath. The air was glacial, yet his mind was on fire. He felt like he’d been strung up in a furnace and hung out to burn. Slowely. ‘I’ve gone to Hell’, he mumbled out loud to no-one. Pearls of sweat beaded across his forehead.

That last ingredient in the beauty facial. The Black Mask. It couldn’t be and yet there it was, written in the unmistakable flowing script of his mother. No wonder she had kept it a secret. Christ, not secret by half enough. Dwarf juice. Crème de Nain. It couldn’t be, yet . . . A hormone, an enzyme, a molecule – what did he know? Something particular to the dwarf metabolism, something unique. Something found only there. Alice probably didn’t know exactly what it was either. It was just something that worked. The final ingredient leading her down the path to preternatural beauty.

His mind turned over, puzzling pieces falling into place like a bang-up Tetris session. But of course! Gideon Stone. Murdered. The papers had mentioned that he looked more like a prune than a human being when they found him. Sucked dry, a mere husk. And now Joe had uncovered the culprit. His mother, his own loving mother. Loving? Had he said that, thought it? She had murdered Gideon Stone - mariticide. She had milked Stone's diminutive body of its precious life fluids, like he was some kind of chemical cow. But not only Stone. Surely there had been other ‘suppliers’ as well. Ten, twenty; how many? It was too awful to imagine. How many batches of that evil concoction had she brewed over the years? A witch, that’s what she was, straight out of Macbeth. Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble. Those chemistry classes at night school when he was a kid; it had seemed so absurd at the time. Not now. And the circus, of course – a plentiful supply of ‘small people’ for her to sample from. Yes, all falling into place, the blocks tucking snugly together, arranging themselves into a horrendous satanic structure. And then it dawned on him. Why had they moved here in the first place? What did this sleepy little town have to offer that a hundred others couldn’t give more of? One thing and one thing only. Dwarves, this town was chockfull of dwarves.

Follow the Keys

bring them in with us on our little secret. No pun intended."

Swotsy pointed at a spot where the snow was particularly disturbed. "I'm not so sure about that, Vi. Look here. What's that you see?"

Violet leaned closer. She couldn't quite see... As she reached out to brush some of the loose snow aside, Swotsy batted her hand away. "But I was just trying t0---"

"I know what you were trying to do. But this is a crime scene now. Look, sweetheart. Look. You don't need to see anymore than that little bit sticking up there... the two crossed hands..."

Violet clapped a hand to her forehead. "Sister Margaret's key! And is that...?"

"Yes. Blood all right."

"Randy's or CJ's?"

Swotsy leveled a squirrely gaze at Violet. "Might as well ask is it yours or mine or Sister Margaret's for that matter. How the hell should I know whose it is? Red, isn't it?" She sat back on her heels, and sighed deeply. (Violet loved Swotsy's sighs. The deeper the better.) "Now I'll have to get hold of Manders and that lot, and we'll have the bulls traipsing all over the garden here. It appears, love, that we shall have to seek out a new trysting spot."

A crash from around the side of the B&B brought the conversation to a close.

"Listen," CJ said as he jumped up from the ground underneath the window, "they're coming. Get that great footballer lump you call an ass up and going. We've got to get out of here."

"What?" Randy said. Confused. He was always confused. He needed to talk to Violet. She would straighten everything out, he was sure.

"Don't question me!" CJ said. "We've got to go to my mother's, and we've got to go now! Move."

Randy was used to taking orders. He followed the little man, who was surprisingly fast and fleet on his feet.

They disappeared into the copse behind the Neptune.

Violet and Swotsy tumbled out into the garden behind the B&B.

"He's gone!" Violet said under her breath.

"They're gone, Vi." Swotsy-- it was so easy to forget she was a detective, what with her big feet and insecurities stemming from High School-- was examining tracks in the snow. "Randy, and a dwarf."

Violet swore. "The dwarves! Now we're going to have to

Swotsy and Violet

"Sister Margaret never changed, she never aged, she never looked anything less than perfect. And she still ran St. Mary's Of The Majestic Holy Lamb to this day...."
Randy could hear Violet and Swotsy talking loudly inside the house. He crept up to the window and could just make out Violet doing up the buttons on her blouse.
"...we've got to do this for Sister Margaret, we promised." Finished Violet.
"But... it would mean killing another dwarf...did, did you kill Clive Violet?"
"Oh for pity's sake, why does everyone keep asking me that. No. I didn't."
At this moment Randy slipped, he was shocked that Violet was so intimate with Swotsy. His whole world was blurring. Had Violet told Swotsy about him? Did Swotsy know his secrets?
"What was that? There's someone spying on us... again."
Violet peered out the window.
"Swots... it's Randy, he's hiding in a bush by the window. Have you got your gun?"
"Yes... but... I can't kill him Vi."
"Give the gun to me... he's got an ingredient that we need. Stop crying... remember this is for Sister Margaret."
Randy tried to get up, but he tripped over a dwarf... it was...

7 is the magic number

done anything to be the perfect aunt. On the day he was due back from Holland with Alice, May tidied the house, imagining all the wonderful adventures that lay ahead of them. She just had time to wash the last of the facepacks off before she heard Alice's key in the door. She ran downstairs followed by a liquid stream of cats, rushing down the steps like mercury in her wake, yowling a greeting, relieved not to be alone in the house any longer with this maniac who blended their mother.

Joe rushed into the lamplit hall, glanced up as his aunt ran to greet him and froze in horror. As Alice pulled the key from the lock, he began to scream.

May left soon after that. Small town Suffolk was no place for her. She married an octogenarian billionaire with a feline obsession. Alone at home with a small child, Alice's high spirits didn't last long.
'Go play,' she would push Joe out of the kitchen door as one of her gentlemen arrived to do odd jobs around the house. 'Go find some friends your own age.'

And he did. When Randy and Violet were busy with their own families, Joe would wander out to the trailer park to play with Clive's kids. CJ became like the kid brother he never had. It was the only place he felt accepted, the only place where people didn't joke about his crazy cat aunt and Alice's drinking. The only place in the world he felt like the normal one. There were eight of them in one trailer - Rowena, Clive, their five children and her mother, poor Wilma's best friend .........

St. Mary's Of The Majestic Holy Lamb

. . . he’d been caught spying into the girl’s locker room at St. Mary’s Of The Majestic Holy Lamb. That fateful Friday he had been manning his post, a tiny hole drilled in the wall of an adjoining unused broom closet. Yeah, Swotsy had been there, but she hadn’t been alone. Violet had been there, too. They were both swathed in towels, giving each other facials with some kind of weird, gooey black stuff. But that’s not all they were doing. Joe could hardly believe his eyes: the scene before him was almost surrealistic. Suddenly Swotsy stood up, her towel falling about her enormous feet. Joe gasped loudly. The two girls’ heads spun about, turning towards his spy hole. Without thinking he reeled backwards, hurtling through the closet door and spilling out into the hall. There he lay, blinking in horror, at the feet of . . .

Ravelings

... Well." The Inspector stopped, looked down at the table. Her gaze flicked once to Violet, briefly, and then back to Joe. She cleared her throat.

"I regret to inform you, Joe, that your presence here must soon draw to a close."

Joe couldn't decide which more disoriented him -- the bizarre statement, or the gruff official tone in which she'd delivered it. Old Swotsy? This was what she'd become, this parody of a broomstick-spined bureaucratic DI? He looked out the corner of his eyes at Violet but she was sitting, apparently mesmerised by Smith-Jones's sudden transformation.

"I don't understand," he said, pausing as the new round was delivered. He grabbed one of the shots at once and downed it. Let the two women fight it out between themselves who got stuck with the kir. "This town is my town too. I keep trying to tell everyone that---"

Smith-Jones interrupted, rebuking him with her upraised palm. "Stop. It's not the town I'm speaking of. It's McGilligan's. The injunction which Jack swore out against you takes effect in just thirty minutes. He doesn't want you anywhere near his daughter. And if I were you, I'd stay a good 100 yards from young Master James as well."

Why did these people all seem to hate him so? Joe wondered, his mind reeling.

And as that question came to his head, the first glimmer of an answer glimmered at the horizon. The mist in his head started to clear, and he suddenly began to recall the circumstances under which he'd left the last time. What an idiot he'd been not to remember sooner. That utterly ghastly day when

'I hate you ...' the Inspector glanced over her shoulder to check Joe was still busy at the bar. She clasped Violet's hand, pressed it briefly to her lips. She was trembling. 'No, no I don't. I love you Violet, I always have ... I was never looking at him. It was you, always you.'
Violet glanced slowly from Joe to the Inspector. 'What time do you get off?'
'Late.'
'Good.' She reached into the pocket of her trench coat, slipped a key across the table. 'You know where I'll be.'
'Violet, I ...'
'Shh ...' her eyes darkened.
'If anything happens to me ...'
'Don't be silly, why would anything happen to you?'
Joe was walking towards them now.
'Call this number,' the Inspector whispered as she pressed a folded piece of paper into Violet's palm ...

Reversal

about us, isn't he?" Her knee touched the Inspector's, briefly, and she smiled secretively. "My favorite girls' camp ever."