had been so engrossed in his own narration that he had not noticed the Emersons’ departure. “‘Just tell me if you know where to find a dame named Ziva,’ Mac urged Emerson. ‘A sophisticated dame with long blond hair and a roller-coaster body.”
* * * *
At home, Amelia sent Thaddeus upstairs to change out of his church clothes and into his Sunday play clothes. Angus would be home shortly, and after a quick lunch, father and son would step outside for a rousing game of croquet.
While heating water for a cup of tea, Amelia pondered on the most recent Mac Hardcase development. Was it possible that Teddy knew of Norbert Emerson’s gambling problem by overhearing her and Angus discuss the unfortunate debt? That had to be it, of course. But why in the world had Norbert reacted like a frightened rabbit to Teddy’s storytelling? He behaved as if there was some terrible truth in the tale.
On a whim, she retrieved the telephone directory and turned to the H’s. Right there on the first page she found it: Handsome Eddie’s Dancin’ Bares Gentlemen’s Club. The raunchy establishment was real, but outside of Back Bay in a very undesirable part of town. Teddy would never have known of its existence from viewing it in passing. That was for certain. Of course, he could have pulled the name from the directory himself. It wasn’t as if they kept it under lock and key. She considered dialing Handsome Eddie’s and asking for Kitty Kats to see what the response might be, but at that very moment, Angus walked through the front door, so she set the directory aside and made a beeline for Teddy’s room. She found him at his desk, pencil in hand, staring out the window.
“Are you writing again?” she asked him.
“In a manner of speaking. It seems crafting a plot can be very difficult.”
She sat on the edge of his bed. “So, tell me, how did you think up this story, Teddy?”
He turned in his chair to face her. “I guess you could say, it just comes to me. I have an idea, and I write it down. But other times, like now, the idea just is not…available. But do you know what is really fun, Mommy?”
“What’s that, darling?”
“When the characters seem to write themselves. My pencil just moves and they come to life, talking and making their own choices. I would say it feels somewhat like magic, really.”
“And Norbert Emerson in your book—is that how he appeared? He just ‘wrote himself’?”
“Yes, Mommy. I probably should not have read him that part of my book though, should I have?”
She laughed. “Probably not. Well, my young author, why don’t you put the book aside for now and come down for a bite.”
After lunch, Amelia washed the dishes and ruminated more about Teddy’s story and about Norbert’s response to it. As if Jimmy Jiggs and the stripper Kitty Kats were flesh and blood—people with whom he cavorted. She wondered if strip clubs were open on Sunday afternoons. Appalled at the possibility but also a tad intrigued, she decided to go see. If nothing else, the outing would clear her mind. She covered her head in a scarf and her eyes with large sunglasses and left a note saying she had gone out for a country drive.
In fact, Handsome Eddie’s Dancin’ Bares Gentlemen’s Club was open when she arrived. It was only then that Amelia asked herself what she really intended to accomplish here. Even if there actually were people named Jimmy Jiggs and Kitty Kats, and even if Norbert knew them, what would that matter to her? Except that somehow, inexplicably, her six-year-old son also knew these people—or knew of them. This was a conundrum Amelia felt compelled to investigate.
Fearful of germs or other, well, diseases, she pulled a tissue from her purse and wrapped it around the door handle before letting herself in. Immediately, a cloud of cigarette smoke overwhelmed her nasal passages while the blaring music, if one could call it music, assaulted her eardrums.
When she removed the sunglasses, she realized a large man loomed in front of her. Both tall and wide, his arms were crossed over his bountiful middle.
“You ain’t the kind we see in here most days,” he said. “You lost, lady?”
Amelia coughed. “No, sir. This is my intended destination.”
“Huh?”
Amelia sneezed this time. The thick air did not agree with her.
“Bless you,” the large man said.
“Thank you, thank you. What is your name, sir?”
“They call me Killer.”
Amelia felt her throat clinch. She swallowed with some difficulty but continued. “Um, Mr. Killer, I am wondering, would, by chance, a dancer hailing as Miss Kitty Kats be employed by this Handsome Eddie fellow?”
“Huh?”
Amelia attempted to match the man’s dialect. “I’m lookin’ for a, uh, dish named Kitty Kats.”
“Yeah, she’s here.”
“Really?” Amelia asked, thrilled and excited and a little frightened all at the same time. “There really is a Kitty Kats?”
“Are you playin’ some kinda game lady, cuz I don’t like games.”
“Oh, no sir. I assure you I am not playing a game at all. See, my son Teddy… ” Amelia stopped herself once she realized the man in front of her probably did not have any interest. “Well, it is quite a long story, as they say. I would love to speak a moment or two to Miss Kitty Kats, but first let me ask you this: do you know a man named Jimmy Jiggs?”
“Never heard of him,” the bouncer replied. He jerked his thumb toward the stage. “Kitty’s workin’ her set right now. She’ll be done soon enough.”
A nearly naked young woman with long legs and abundant bosom appeared to be mating with a metal pole in the middle of the stage. Amelia had trouble watching.
“Maybe I should just wait here until she is done then,” Amelia said.
“What exactly you want with her, lady?” the man asked.
“Just to, you know, talk. Have a little chat.”
“Then I suggest you get your keister down to the stage and let her know. Last I heard, she ain’t no mind reader.”
Taking his advice, Amelia made her way to the stage. She placed three more tissues from her purse neatly onto a chair at the nearest table. When she sat, she tried to touch as little of the chair as possible. Peeking at her watch, she made note that her time was limited. Angus and Thaddeus would be finished with croquet soon. She did not want to be gone too long. Amelia surveyed the smoky room. As far as audience went, she seemed to be it. A group of men smoked like chimneys at a table in the far back of the club, but they paid Miss Kitty Kats no heed. They appeared to be embroiled in some heated discussion. When the music ended, Amelia watched the woman—naked except for purple underpants (if you could call them that) and red heels—retrieve a silk robe from the back of a chair.
Amelia waved her hand in the air to catch the woman’s attention. “Hello? Miss Kitty? Or is it Miss Kats? Hello?”
Cinching her robe, the dancer squinted in Amelia’s direction. “Yeah?”
“Might I have a moment of your time?”
“Huh?”
“I would like to ask you a couple of questions.”
“Lady, this is my break. I need some fresh air and a smoke.”
“I assure you, I am in a hurry as well. I shall make it quick. I can join you wherever you take your rest.”
The stripper gave Amelia a few moments of suspicious consideration, finally making a counteroffer. “Bring Mr. Jackson with you, and I’ll give you five minutes and no more.”
Amelia stood, pleased the stripper had agreed. “Where will I