Saturday night at Club Panther. The waitress set the Bacardi & OJ on the table in front of Hamilton Beach, private dick and stone righteous brother. “You read my mind, baby,” Beach said, “But unless I’m higher than I thought, I didn’t order this.”

“Compliments of the lady at the bar,” the waitress explained. “The one in the green velvet vest and the brown leather boots.” From ten yards away, the lady in question shot Beach a smile that could melt the ice on Lake Erie in January. Nothing wrong with her that Beach could see, nothing at all. But if he trusted every mysterious woman with a pretty face, he’d have been dead a long time ago. He picked up the drink and nonchalantly strolled over to her, taking the next stool at the bar.

“Many thanks, sweet thing. My favorite, you know.” Beach lifted the glass in salute, with a couple of shakes. He lit a Kool, blew the smoke sideways, and continued, “But tell me – what’s your game?”

The smile again, the ice-melting smile. “Games are for little boys and girls. I’m a full-grown woman, Mr. Beach. Very full-grown.”

“I can see that, baby. But I just find it funny, you know. I mean, it seems a little odd, you trying to make time with me with that shipment of Hamilton Beach BlenderChef Blender/Food Processors due in from Detroit in half an hour. I know the Rabbit would love to get his hands on those – glass jar, stanless steel blades, 12 speeds from ‘stir’ all the way up to ‘liquefy’. I know the Rabbit can’t resist a 400-watt motor. And here you are, treating me to a drink just when that truck is rolling toward town. Quite a coincidence. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Her brows lifted the smallest distance, for the briefest instant. She was keeping it together pretty good, Beach had to gve her that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why can’t a woman buy a drink for a good-looking stranger without -”

“See, see, that’s the thing,” Beach interrupted. “You say ‘stranger’, but a minute ago you knew my name. How do you figure that?”

Her hand darted into her handbag on the bar. Immediately Beach’s muscled grip was around her hand, clamping it through the fabric of the purse. Beach could tell there was something heavy in the bag: a gun, a blade. Something nasty. “I wouldn’t if I were you, baby,” he commanded, looking right into her panic-racked eyes. “Here’s how it’s gonna go down. I’m gonna take your purse outside with me, on my way out. After I take out anything that shouldn’t be there, I’ll leave it behind the shrubs outside. You wait two minutes and you can go get your purse back. Me, I got an appointment with some of your fellow employees of the Rabbit. I’ll tell them you said hello.”

Dazed, she withdrew her empty hand and watched Beach leave the club. What a man. For a moment, she wished she could’ve bought him a drink under different circumstances. Then she wondered what she was going to tell the Rabbit.

Back to top