Buried In Buttercream

until I turned twenty-one and could go see them any time I wanted to. After that, it took me about two weeks to get over my adolescent obsession.”
    “Good thing all guys aren’t like you,” Francie muttered as she tied the beer-stained apron around her assets. “Come on, we can go talk in Willy’s office.

    Willy’s office was wallpapered with centerfolds, littered with empty booze bottles, and smelled like stale cigarette smoke, beer, and dog.
    Yes, Savannah thought, this is the heart of Willy’s world, the hub of his empire, the soul of his enterprise .
    Ah, the glamour of being a self-made entrepreneur.
    The canine scent was explained when they saw an enormous pit bull, who was curled up on a folded blanket in the corner of the room. He was snoring loudly, and only opened one eye when they entered. He peered up at them with only mild curiosity, then closed it again.
    “What’s this all about?” Francie asked as she plopped herself down on the worn sofa in the corner next to the dog. She leaned over and patted him on the head.
    When she saw Savannah staring at the animal, she said, “Oh, don’t worry about Hercules here. He’s a big pussy cat. Willy just keeps him around to protect the cash. One look at him and nobody even thinks of robbing us.”
    “And I’ll bet that works quite well,” Savannah said. She harbored a healthy respect for pit bulls. Maybe even a prejudice, if she were honest.
    A pit bull had chased her over a fence one night when she had been running through someone’s backyard, trying to apprehend a burglar. Since then she hadn’t liked the breed.
    But she did have to admit that Hercules was a pretty handsome, easygoing guy. He gazed up at Francie with big, brown doe eyes, gave her hand a grateful lick, then went back to snoring.
    “You wanna pet him?” Francie asked.
    “I’m sure he’s very nice, but, no, thank you,” Savannah replied.
    “You wanna sit down?”
    Savannah opted to stand, and so did Dirk.
    “So, like I asked you before, what’s all this about?” Francie asked.
    “You don’t know?” Dirk asked her.
    “Nope.” She glanced up at the large, school room–style clock on the wall and said, “But whatever it is, you’d better get at it because I’m on again in five minutes.”
    “You’ll be on again in five minutes if you’ve answered all my questions,” Dirk told her, clearly annoyed.
    Francie looked a little flustered, as though she wasn’t accustomed to males getting annoyed with her ... or at least, showing it.
    “Okay,” she said. “What do you want to ask me?”
    “Where were you the day before yesterday, in the afternoon?” Savannah asked.
    “Why?”
    “Please answer the question,” Dirk said, sounding far less polite than his words.
    “I was here all day.”
    “Doing what?” Savannah asked.
    “Dancing.” She hesitated a moment, thinking. Then added, “And taking a nap.”
    “You took a nap?” Dirk asked.
    “Yeah. I take a nap most days. Is that against the law?”
    “Where exactly did you take this snooze of yours?”
    “Right here. I came in here and conked out on this sofa. Willy doesn’t care.” A sweet, sappy grin crossed her face. “Willy’s nice to me.”
    Yeah, I’ll bet he is, Savannah thought. And in return, you’re probably very nice to Willy’s willy.
    But she didn’t say it. Long ago, she’d learned that the key to being a good private detective was not mentioning out loud 99.9 percent of what crossed your mind.
    That worked in one’s nonprofessional life, as well. Though she had a little more trouble implementing the rule there.
    “How long was your nap?” Dirk was asking her.
    “I don’t know. It was two days ago. An hour or two, I guess. I get really tired. I work late every night. And it’s hard work ... harder than you might think.”
    “I’m sure you work your fingers to the bone,” Savannah said. “Even when you aren’t dancing.”
    Dirk snickered. Then quickly donned his poker face again. “Did anybody come in here while you were taking your nap?”
    “No. Willy told everybody to leave me alone and let me rest. He takes good care of me.”
    “I’m sure he does.” Dirk gave Savannah a quick look. “And where’s the back door to this place?”
    “Right out that door and to the left.”
    “That’s what I thought.” Dirk took a step closer to her. “Ms. Di Napoli, I want you to tell me about Madeline Aberson.”
    In less than two seconds, Francie’s face turned a