It was like any other day, kind of cold and snowy, except now it was night. I was working the nightshift at a daycare when she walked in.

“Are you Blaze Ratchet, the detective?”

She was tall, thin, blonde, and a real babe. I was about to begin my second pack of Winstons when she found me sitting behind my desk at the Sweet Feet Daycare next to the donut shop.

“I’m Blaze Ratchet. Nice to meet you. Won’t you have a seat?”

I knew this dame was going to be trouble. Blondes who look this good are always trouble. I lit a Winston and waited until she told me her story.

“What can I do for you?” I asked her. She sat down in the leather chair in front of my desk. She was wearing a white dress, all silky and shiny like the inside of a casket. I thought she wore too much makeup, but who am I to say.

“My name is Barbie Schmeister-Hausen. You’ve probably heard about my husband, Harvey Schmiester-Hausen, of the law firm Schwartz, Gleichen, Smith, and Schmiester-Hausen. He was just indicted for murder.”