I’m a private dick. A gumshoe. A flatfoot. I’ve been trained to delve, dig, and dive to the heart of a mystery. I was soon to learn that mysteriou... was a word that fit Carlotta to a T. “It concerns my little man in the boat,” Carlotta said. “Your what?” I said. “Did he drown? How small is he, anyway?” “He’s rather big, actually,” Carlotta said, “but that’s not the point.” “Is he small, or big?” I said. “You’re confusing me.” I took a drink of whiskey. I needed it. “It’s about my love button,”. Meanwhile, I had thanked my partner and asked the only woman left at the table of four for a dance. She was short and at least thirty pounds overweight. After her, I ordered another beer and found a vantage point to keep track of my girl. They danced her and kept the drinks coming. The music was so loud that whatever talking was done had to be shouted near the ear. Leaning close to her cheek, guys appeared to keep complementing her, judging by the thank yous that she mouthed in response. I had. More

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