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Why she hadn’t thought of that last night when they were caught breaking into Town Hall she didn’t know. But at least she’d thought of it now. Not that there would be cops around. Not with her son having been ‘kidnapped’ by kidnappers only Charlene had seen, which told her all she needed to know: thewhole story was completely bogus.

“Let’s go,” she said, and then she and her fellow watch member were darting across the street and making a beeline for the back of Charlene’s house. Vesta had brought along the club she’d acquired for watch patrol purposes, and as they arrived on Charlene’s terrace, they discovered a wealth of glass they could easily break: there was the sliding glass door, there was the glass kitchen door, and there even was another window that offered a good view of the living room. A regular embarras de richesses!

“So which one do you want to break?” asked Scarlett, eagerly glancing at the large window that led into the living room.

But then Vesta noticed that a window had been left open on the second floor, and she figured that maybe they could manage without causing too much damage for a change.

“If you give me a boost, I think I might be able to reach there,” she said, indicating the window.

“Or ifyou giveme a boost,I might be able to reach there,” Scarlett countered.

“I thought of it first, so you’re boosting me.”

“Yeah, but I’m taller so I’ll be able to reach that window a lot easier than you.”

“Exactlybecause you’re taller you’ll be able to give me a boost much quicker.”

“Okay, fine. Let’s toss a coin,” said Scarlett.

“Fine. Let’s,” said Vesta, and took a coin from her purse, then tossed it. The moment it landed, she said, “Heads.”

“Hey, no fair—you can’t call it after it lands!”

“Who cares! I won so you’re boosting me. Let’s go!”

“You’re impossible, you know that, right?”

“Stop yapping and start boosting already.”

So Scarlett got into position and moments later Vesta was reaching for the window.

“You’re much heavier than you look!” said Scarlett, groaning under the strain.

“I’m not. You’re weak, that’s the problem. Now lift me higher, will you?”

“Are you nuts? Do I look like a frickin’ weightlifter to you?”

“Higher!”

“Oh, screw this,” said Scarlett, and gave one last mighty push. Unfortunately Vesta had just positioned her head underneath the open window and now bumped it against the unyielding object, causing her to let out a sharp cry of pain, then topple down to earth, crashing into Scarlett, and causingthe latter to topple over, too.

So when Officer Sarah Flunk rounded the corner ten seconds later, responding to a call from a concerned neighbor who’d witnessed the scene from his balcony window, she found two cursing old ladies trying to extricate themselves from a tangle of limbs.

“Oh, Vesta, Vesta,” said Officer Flunk, who was in a great mood because of her upcoming marriage to Barry Billong, “what is your son going to say when he sees this?”

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Norm, after his friends Max and Dooley had been kicked out of Solange’s trailer, felt it was his duty to stick around, endangering life and limb, to try and complete the mission. It was, after all, what James Bond would have done. Of course James Bond would have tried to seduce Madame Solange and would probably have succeeded, eating up precious minutes of the movie’s runtime, but Norm didn’t think this was in the cards for him. Women rarely fall for fat flies, except maybe when they look like Jeff Goldblum.

“What did I tell you?” the fortune teller was saying to the muscular guard. “No cats!”

“I’m sorry, Solange,” said the security guard. “I didn’t see them.”

“What am I paying you for, Maxim? To always keep an eye out—even for cats!”

“It won’t happen again, Solange,” said Maxim ruefully, hanging his head, as far as a neckless man can hang his head, of course. Having been thoroughly chewed out, the guard took his leave and Norm took advantage of this lull in the proceedings to move into another curtained-off area and discover this was Madame Solange’s private space.

There was a dresser with a large mirror, and the paraphernalia of a woman’s beautifying processes strewn about. He saw several wigs, indicating that Madame Solange liked to change things up as far as her personal appearance was concerned, and also, and most importantly, there were portraits of a certain male bedecking every available surface: the walls, of course, butalso framed pictures festooning the dresser and the little gateleg table next to the small couch and even the TV set where Solange presumably liked to watch some television in between predicting her clients’ future.

The male on display wasn’t a handsome male but he definitely had Solange’s affection: he was a pretty beefy sort of guy, with sideburns and that weird slicked-back coif so popular in the fifties. He sported the same black leather jacket in all the pictures, making Norm suspect he didn’t have enough money to buy himself more than one outfit.