* * * * *
Sir Anthony looked at the snake charmer.
"Do you know these ruffians?"
She nodded: "The one with the big mouth is Ace Corona. He works for Moustache Pete...!"
The two yeggs raised their tommy guns to eye level.*
"No names, you ditzy dame!"
But, it was too late.
"Moustache Pete Taliaferro?" I exclaimed: "I thought he only ran Detroit."
"One more word out of you, buddy," he snarled: "And, you're gonna have more holes than the Swiss cheese from Fondue Lac. As for you, girlie? Follow Jamie, here, out to the car without another peep. Otherwise, I'll sap you with the butt of this!"
He hefted the tommy gun for emphasis.
As he clearly wasn't going to let her even stop to get properly dressed, she reluctantly nodded and complied.
When it was just the three of us left, Ace Corona smiled.
"Another time, gents."
He then walked backwards to the door, before running off through it. Sir Anthony and I looked at each other for a second. Then, we ran in pursuit!
It was no use, however. A Ford Model A pick-up (with a ribbed and canvas-covered roof) was already speeding away from the mouth of the alley, towards our left. By the time we got to the same point, it was lost to sight.
Naturally, we returned to the theater, to call the police from one of the house phones back stage. Or, rather, Sir Anthony did the calling. I tended to the two stage-hands, who I found in a nearby scenery closet, with reddish-purple lumps on their heads. Evidently, pistol-whipped unconscious by Ace Corona and his friend!
We gave our statements to a local plain-clothes man, Detective Sergeant Barry Stone. When we had finished, Sir Anthony asked a question or two of his own.
"What possible reason could these men have had for abducting Miss Plaisantine? Does this Taliaferro have some kind of romantic obsession with her?"
"Moustache Pete???" exclaimed Sergeant Stone: "Nah! He's married. And, if there's one thing he's not dishonest about, it's his marriage vows. More likely, she was taken as leverage."
"Leverage for what?" I now asked.
"Taking over the Bijou. Not all the employees, thereof, are unionized, if you catch my drift!"
It was at this point that Sir Anthony looked at his pocket watch and then turned its face to me. Making the time of 5:30 P.M. plainly visible.
"Dr. Thorpe and I have a prior appointment for which we are already half an hour late, Sergeant. If you don't need us for anything else...?"
"Well, we might need you to look at some mug shots, tomorrow, so we can get out a good description of this Jamie character. But, until then, you're free to go. Just don't leave town, right away."
Sgt. Stone had a pair of uniformed policemen drop us off at the Milwaukee Lodge. There, in the lobby, we found Mr. Galstaff personally waiting for us. In reply to his understandably anxious inquiries, we told him what had happened at the Bijou. And, at the mention of the names "Taliaferro" and "Corona," his face went quite pale.
"What's wrong?" Sir Anthony bluntly asked (the concern in his voice quite obvious).
Mr. Galstaff shook his head and beckoned for us to follow him to his office. And, once he had closed the sound-proof doors, he showed us a beige file folder. The top page of that file contained a long list of names.
"These are all the volunteer staff members, of Camp New Hope, who come from Wisconsin. But, only one of them lives in Arbor Vitae."
He pointed to the name circled in pen. That of...Cassandra White.
"Who's she?" I asked.
"Among other things?" Mr. Galstaff replied: "She was born and raised in Detroit as Cassandra Langobardi. But, in more recent years, she was better known as Signora Cassandra Bianco. As in; the widow of Daniello 'Tiny Dan' Bianco! The Milwaukee crime boss recently...deposed...by Moustache Pete."
"So?" I prompted.
"So, ever since she changed her name and moved to Arbor Vitae, Miss White has been a big contributor to a certain feminist organization that's become very popular the last few years. An organization composed mostly of women who lost husbands, fathers, brothers and/or sons in the World War! It's called...the Sisterhood of Bellona."
Now, it was Sir Anthony's turn to grow pale.
"I take it you know that name?"
It was more a statement than a question. He nodded, and added that I should, too.
"According to our probationary studies? That was the name of a Melissae sub-sect that arose in New Orleans...nearly sixty years ago."
tbc
Giantess World
Chapter End Notes:
*Yeggs: obsolete slang term for petty street criminals.
Sap: An obsolescent term for getting knocked out with a blow to the back of one's head. Although, usually, with a blackjack (a black leather pouch filled with lead pellets)!
Sap: An obsolescent term for getting knocked out with a blow to the back of one's head. Although, usually, with a blackjack (a black leather pouch filled with lead pellets)!