I was sitting in my office, enjoying a smoke and reading the crime sheet for this Island that is Grand when she walked in, all red dress and delicious curves. She was cool as ice and yet her eyes were smoldering as she slipped behind my desk, opened the drawer and removed my 1971 single malt scotch. She leaned against the desk, showing just enough leg to make my mind wander in the wrong direction.

“I need a small favor, Harry. Meechie’s been tailing me and I can’t shake him. Help me out?” she purred.

“Spooky.” I drawled.

“Don’t be a creep about it Harry, will you help me or not?”

“Why all the drama, sweetheart? Maybe he just wants you to meet his mother.”

She sighed and leaned closer to me. I could see forever in that dress. I tried to clear my head. Counted backwards from 42 but her perfume was making it difficult to think straight.

“It ain’t his mother I’m afraid to meet Harry.” Her body was trembling next to mine. I looked in her eyes. Maybe this time, Meechie wanted to finish the job.