The drive over was quiet but for the radio, soft jazz, but not even that could cool my blood.

The driver seemed shook, but I tossed him a fiver and he kept his cool.

The cab pulled up and the usher caught the door for me, he stepped back giving me the long eye but I didn’t have time for yokels.

The easel by the door had a poster, Inkspots in Lounge. My favourite band, maybe if the feathers didn’t hit the fan I’d have time for number.

That was a mistake.

The floorboss saw me sidle through the doors and was on me in a hop.

“Monsieur Big will see you, Detective,” she cooed, that subtle hint of French accent makin my goose prickle.

It seemed my reputation proceeded me as usual.

I nodded and followed her to the elevator, the operator looking at both of us curiously.

“Top floor,” she curtly tossed at the boy on the lever.

The doors closed and I leaned back against the wall, the floorboss was a dame I would not have minded to get to know better.

Dark black hair, black pencil dress, and just a hint of sass with that red belt synched above her hips.

If she didn’t work in this place, I just might have given her a whistle.

The elevator operator seemed nervous so I whistled a little tune instead.

The glare from my escort told me all I needed to know about her, she was so deep in Big Donny’s pocket she was breathing lint.

The doors opened to a duo of thugs who ushered us off, even the button boy. His grip like solder torn free from the handle as he was pushed along with us.

I couldn’t make the connection, why bring the kid from the elevator, it didn’t make sense.

But I didn’t have time to noodle it further as the doors at the end of the hall opened and two more of Big Donny’s thugs sauntered out the room dragging a hapless rube between em.

Now was the evening of this poor mugs discontent, kicking and screaming as he was hauled like a sack by his ankle past them.

“I swear! I didn’t mean it! Ms. Steward, please!” He screamed, “I didn’t know Mr. big was a-“

His words cut off as the door to the stairs closed behind him and the gorillas hauling him, cries fading fast.

Well, at least I finally had a name to put to the scowl.

But time was not on my side, and quickly running out, so, bereft of options I walked on.

I knew this was not the end, the old gypsie had said so, but who’s ever sure about a thing like mobsters and murder.

I whistled at the kid.

They looked back at me.

Things looked bleak, but what kind of a man was I if I let them worry too, I nodded.

“Thank~”

His words of thanks cut off as one of the thugs behind us shoved him hard.

“No talking,” he growled, as if the tangent from the current situation was distracting.

A click of the tongue from me though, and he backed off.

With a petulant glare the kid returned to silence.

The office was as opulent as only someone calling themselves “Big” would call home. But I was a little shocked at first.

The man must have been a real zoophilist.

Tiny cages filled the walls, with lavish looking little animals, that all appeared well cared for too.

But before I could find a common ground, I saw it, the stuffed monstrocity sitting on the desk. It seemed so lifelike it almost winked back at me, bits of animals and gore tossed about. Tools of a gruesome trade lay all across the side of the desk. Taxidermy tools.

“Ze boss wants to know if you like ze wolpertinger?” Ms. Steward asked.

So that’s what that was.

Safe to assume, maybe he liked animals for a more sadistic reason.

The chair behind the desk was spun around so no one saw Big Donny, only Ms. Steward could see him.

I couldn’t risk the trap, so I held my cards close.

The same could not be said for the kid.

Pushed to the brink the poor kid began to gibber like a gibbon, but was cut off just as quick.

“What is your name child?”

“Molly Mum, Molly May.”

I was shocked, the kid was a dame; I hadn’t seen that coming, it was turning out to be a whole night of surprises.

“I’ve not seen a thing Ms. Steward, I-“

More than a bit distant she sat back against the desk.

“Do you know who zat is?”

Steward pointed at me, the kid turning to look at me.

“T-the parrot?”

The jig was up, there was no throwing a dollar at her for silence, sidestepping away slowly.

The old gypsy woman had said I’d never know release, boy, she was right.

Kid looked at me, me looking at her, tipping my ol’ fedora with a wink.

“Where’s a bird get a ha-“

“Zis is, Detective Polly.” Steward smiled sweetly, “And you are ere to make sure he behaves, because-“

One of the goons pulled his gun and put it to the kids head, a move that didn’t sit well with me.

Whoever Big was, he knew me.

Turn around, give me a shot.

Not one to budge, I kept my cool, pulling out a macadamia and cracking it.

Unnerving the goons with each crack, the smell of fear like potpourri.

“Do you sink zis is a joke, Detective?”

I’d nothing to say.

“Fine; waste zem both!”

The click of the hammer was incomplete though as I made my move, spitting a bit of shell at the gun jamming it.

The gypsy was always right.

Then I flew at the goon knocking his gun away.

As savage as an ocelot I used all I had, and after a good left right he was down for the count.

The kid dropped and I was able to knock a gun to her before one of the others got it, and she came up holding it.

“Ms. Steward,” she held the german made luger steady as an arrow, “I quit!”

Steward just smiled and looked aside, smiling at Big Donny no doubt.

I was at the kids shoulder in a hop, staring down Ms. Steward .

Much as I’d cherish pumping these animals full of lead, now was not the time, still outnumbered, it was time for us to twenty-three skidoo.

“I-uh, well, we’ll; be leavin Mum,” the kid croaked nervously in her sweet Irish cadence.

“You ave made a big mistake siding with ze Detective, Molly, but I guess I can’t exactly much from a no good Irish~”

BANG

“You shot me!” Steward squeaked, grabbing her leg, blood already leaving a trickle on the rug.

Molly looked at the gun, then quickly pointed it at the two thugs.

“Weren’t me!”

I held the smoking derringer, one round left, a worthy use on a racists.

I slipped my pistol into it’s holster and nudged little Molly towards the elevator.

The thug on the ground looked up, the one standing still hands held high, “You didn’t pat the detective down?”

“Of course not, stupide!” Steward shouted.

They’d have to tend to the bosses Wenchmen instead of following us now.

I dashed to the chair, past them all and spun Big Donny around.

But he wasn’t there.

The door behind the desk at the far end closed suddenly, a heavy click as a latch locked.

“You will never get ze boss.”

“Lets go! Uh, Detective?”

I looked at Molly, she was right of course.

Big Donny may have gotten away this time, but we were off to the races. And my horses always came in.

The Gypsy said they would.

No sense hanging around, we booked it outta there and out the back, hopping onto a scooter and out the alley just as Big Donny’s goons poured out the front door.

No way they’d catch us now.

And I’d be back… Donny could count on it.