Some Like It Lethal by Nancy Martin Page A

if she wished she could open a trapdoor beneath my feet. "Sweet Knees," she said. "What are you doing here tonight?"
    "Filing my story about the hunt breakfast." I put my hand down to the young man I had no trouble identifying as the troll Mary Jude had mentioned. He was wearing a badly fitted rental tuxedo with lapels as wide as duck wings. The pants puddled around his ankles. "Hello, I'm Nora Blackbird."
    His face lit up behind Harry Potter-style glasses. "Oh, hi! I'm Andy Mooney. Hey, it's awesome to meet you! I've read about your family in the papers for years. You're real Philadelphia royalty, aren't you?"
    "Shut up, Andrew."
    "Sorry, Miss Keough. I've grooved on your column for so long, though, I feel like I've memorized all your good stuff. That piece you did on Mr. Charles Blackbird's funeral was really great."
    I said, "My grandfather's funeral was fifteen years ago, Andy. How old were you then?
    "Oh, my mother keeps a scrapbook. She read the clippings to me when I was little, and I got hooked. I still remember the way Miss Keough described the hundreds of people from all walks of life who went to the funeral to pay their respects to Charlie Blackbird. She said—"
    Kitty interrupted. "Yeah, well, give people what they want, and they'll come out in droves."
    I remembered my vow to behave with the utmost civility when in Kitty's presence. "It's lovely to meet you, Andy. Are you working with us now?"
    "Oh, yeah, it's a major dream come true. I'm just an intern at the moment, but Miss Keough said I can work my way up to your job, Miss Blackbird."
    "How do you like the sound of that, Sweet Knees?"
    Kitty's silver dress was one I'd seen on her before, and she looked like a war horse strapped into its harness. She was headed for a fancy dress party, and I guessed it was the annual Children's Hospital Holiday Ball. I'd heard by way of a friend on the organizing committee that the guest host—a very popular television comedian who promoted children's charities when he wasn't playing the bumbling father of oversexed teenagers—had doubled the ticket sales this year. I made a mental note to slip that information to Stan if Kitty didn't learn it at the ball. Stan could ease it into her column before it went to press, and Kitty would be none the wiser where the detail came from.
    I said, "It's wonderful to have extra help during the holidays."
    "Yeah, we're swamped," Kitty agreed, turning on Stan. "In fact, I want Sweet Knees to go to a few more parties. The invitations are coming in so fast, I can't keep up."
    "That's exactly what Nora's for," Stan said. "To take up the slack for you, Kitty."
    "Okay, then, she can go through the invitations, and Andrew can come along with me tonight."
    Stan's patience was thin. "We don't have the money in the budget to pay your intern to—"
    "Oh, I don't mind," Andy piped up. "I don't need to be paid to help Miss Keough."
    "Great," Stan said quickly. "Then everybody's happy. Nora, you'll take a look at Kitty's invitations before you leave today?"
    "Of course."
    "And, Kitty, you're coming back in tonight to finish this week's column?"
    She had already snatched up her ancient fur coat and was sailing out the door. "Don't worry about me, Stan."
    Spike chose that moment to poke his head out of my bag and issue a big puppy burp. Then he snarled at Andy. For once, he was picking on something his own size. With a startled expression, Andy skipped after Kitty.
    "Hang on a minute, Nora." Stan waved me back into his office.
    "Sorry about the dog, Stan. I won't bring him again."
    "Don't worry about it. I love dogs." Then he did a double take. "Even one that ugly. Tell me what you saw at the hunt breakfast. The boys downstairs are working on the story now. I hear some young millionaire got himself killed."
    I sat down in the chair opposite Stan's desk. I liked Stan. He worked hard and was loyal to the newspaper that paid him poorly for doing more than his fair share of work and taking a lot of abuse from