Miss Dynamite, Episode II

February 6, 2002. "She was as naked as a September morn, but a darn sight less coy." -- The Long Goodbye

Valentine's Day. The last one had ended with a round at the station. You don't mind a sexy man in uniform as a rule, but you prefer to be given wine and roses -- not the third degree. Lucky a chipped nail and a lot of mascara can do all kinds of magic, and some poor flatfoot with a lonely temperament is always a sucker for the weepy kind. Sure, it was a dirty card to play, but then, you'd been dealing for so long that you'd lost your Ace of Hearts a damn sight back. You hardly remembered holding it, and now all you seemed to be turning over were Jokers. Even Norman Conquest had folded, and left you looking at the Big House instead of a full one.

Still, you shut up shop and grabbed the package that had come in today's mail. Who needed chocolates when you had a pair of high heels, a full barrel, and a dress so dangerous Hoover would have thrown it in Sing-Sing -- if he didn't keep it for himself. Sam met you on the corner and you two hoofed it all over town, anywhere the drinks were cold and the jazz was hot. He was a good kid, and as long as you didn't get him started on the Dodgers, his jitterbug covered a multitude of sins. He dropped halfway through the night, however, just when you were getting started. They were all like that, and after the G-men had finished picking up the shell casings at the club, you found yourself under the bright lights yet again. As usual, February 14 was less like the Valentine's, more like the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.