‘And then the ice queen said…’ Suddenly, three sharp taps sounded on the window. The group fell silent. Surely something had been knocked against the window. Perhaps it had begun to hail? But no, the sound came again… three sharp taps. The peasant pulled on his overcoat and hat then went out to see what was the matter. Outside, his eyes grew wide as he took in the great white bear that stood as tall as he, even though it was on all four paws. He thought of running back to the door but knew that no matter how large and ungainly the bear might seem, he could not outrun him. ‘Good evening, my apologies if I have interrupted your evening meal,’ said the white bear genteelly. ‘And to you, but you interrupt no meal,’ said the peasant, bobbing his head. ‘Surely this is the dinner hour?’ asked the bear diffidently. ‘It is.’ The peasant nodded nervously. ‘But there was little for dinner and it was over long ago.’ ‘Ah, yes. It is said that this is a poor household that houses the brightest. I worked damn hard in the Military Police. I served overseas for part of the time and with a few special under-cover assignments thrown in. I may have grown up with a street attitude, but it took the Marine Corp to stand me up tall and put all the echoes of Angel Tits behind me. They at least addressed me as Sergeant fuckin' Tittsfield! The Corps wanted me to stay, but I missed the city of cities. So here I am. Dixie Deveraux, Duly Licensed Private Investigator, Brooklyn, New York City. I stand five feet ten without heels, slim body, short blonde hair, blue eyes and don’t require yuppie spandex jogging outfits to keep me in in good shape. For accessories, I wear a wristwatch, a gold Claddagh necklace, a set of steel handcuffs and carry a Smith and Wesson Ladysmith. That little baby is a thirty-eight caliber, snub-nose, hammerless revolver. No, I don’t carry it in my purse under the lipstick, Kleenex, cell phone, tampons, bunches of keys and stray coins; it lives all by itself in a.
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