Double Dame Trouble

          The story so far: Ethan Cole, P.I., has been joined at the table in his favorite nightclub by a gorgeous redhead he doesn’t know. As she tries to warn him of impending danger, the lights flicker, the redhead disappears – but does leave her phone number for Ethan on a napkin – and two thugs each grab Ethan by an arm and lead him outside to an awaiting limo.

          They drive him to the isolated cottage of Mama George, who informs Ethan that the redhead he just met with is her daughter, who’s stolen precious jewels from Mama George. The woman demands that Ethan retrieve the jewels and return them to the cottage at once.

          Later, back at the club, Ethan phones the gorgeous redhead and is told that not only does she not have the jewels, she wants them, herself. Then she advises Ethan that Mama George acquired the jewels during a heist and promises to pay Ethan twice whatever Mama George’s offer is.

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          Ethan hung up the phone with Red and, like a hamster with a Brazil nut, returned to his table to mull this new crinkle over in his mind.

          Mama George thought Red stole her jewels and was willing to pay handsomely to get them back. Red claimed she didn’t have them, either, and would pay double-y handsomely for their return.

          Should he call Mama George and incite a bidding war? Or was Red figuring him for a patsy, and by doing that, he’d be playing right into her creamy, beautifully manicured hand?

          He swilled down his whiskey and gave a nod to Sal at the bar for a refill.

          Did any of this have to do with the knucklehead goon in the limo with the familiar-sounding voice that he remembered from the Strawberry Shortcake caper? That was a heist too, after all. But those jewels turned up finally under a farmhouse in Morocco. The owner of said house, though, did remain a mystery still to this day.

          Gigi, the bleach-blonde waitress Ethan had enjoyed a couple of rolls in the hay with, bent down to deliver his whiskey and an ample view of her ample chest.

          “Here, Doll,” she mewled, between snaps of her gum, and handed him a heavy black house phone with a cord long enough to snake around the entire dining room. “There’s a call for you.”

          Ethan put a five-spot on Gigi’s tray, and she winked at him and blew him a fat, red-lipped kiss over her shoulder as she headed back toward the bar.

          “Ethan Cole,” he said into the receiver.

          “Well?” asked Red, her husky voice sending blood to his nether regions at once. “Can I count on you to make me happy and the two of us very, very rich?”