Page 2 of Mission: Possible

"Would you like to swap seats?" asked Solomon, holding back a sigh.

Solomon was at the head of the table, the position of power. If I swapped, my colleagues might infer I was a scared, little woman who couldn't bear the idea of a dance with death. They would tease me relentlessly. It wasn't worth it. I worked too hard to earn their respect and had actually faced death too many times already.

"I'm fine, thanks," I said as nonchalantly as I could while seriously contemplating the donuts. Jelly or coconut? Chocolate or maple glazed? Sometimes life threw good questions at me.

"Then let's..."

"If I do get shot in the back of the head and don’t survive," I interrupted, "I would like Queen's ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ to be played at my funeral."

"Good choice," said Fletcher.

Solomon started to rise. "Swap seats," he ordered.

I waved him down with the donut I just pried from Fletcher's paws. "I said I'm fine," I told him as I tossed my hair theatrically. "Unless I come back as a zombie."

"That would be rough," said Fletcher.

"Maybe I should choose ‘Staying Alive’ by the BeeGees to be played instead," I pondered.

"Not gonna happen," said Solomon, barely restraining an eye roll.

"What do we have?" I asked.

Solomon fixed me with a long look. When it became uncomfortable, I smiled and bit into my donut. "A few interesting cases," he started. "A possible cat theft ring in the Bedford Hills. Several expensive pedigree female cats are missing and the owners are considering asking us to look more deeply into it."

"No need for that," said Delgado. "I have an informant in the neighborhood who says all the female cats are in heat; they’re just escaping for a little fun, if you know what I mean."

"I can't believe this is how my day is starting," I muttered while taking another bite of the donut.

"Who's your informant?" asked Solomon.

"The local veterinary surgeon. Cool guy. Says he's been trying to convince the homeowners to neuter their cats for months but they won't listen. Now maybe they will, since it sounds like there will soon be a crossbred kitten explosion."

"I'll let them know to contact us in a few days if the cats don’t return," said Solomon. He put the file to one side. "Next up is a strip bar on the outskirts of town. Their cash register comes up short every night and they want someone to look into it. They can employ one of us undercover until we get a camera system up and running."

All eyes except Solomon's turned to me. "Nope," I said. "I'm not going undercover as a stripper."

"There won't be anythingundercoverabout it," spluttered Fletcher as he tried not to laugh.

"The undercover role will be at the bar," said Solomon. "No nudity required."

"What about dancing on the bar?" asked Flaherty. He looked at me. "Do we know anyone specifically proficient in that area?"

I chewed my donut and stayed quiet.

"What exactly do they wear behind the bar?" wondered Fletcher. "Do we know anyone who wears tight clothing and tosses her hair all the time?"

This donut really was delicious!

"Solomon already said it's not a clothes-off gig," said Delgado. "Maybe it calls for a cocktail waitress outfit. Little, black dress and a stiletto heel straight into the balls if anyone gets too handsy. Lexi can take care of that."

"Still nope," I said. It was bad enough helping Lily out at her bar when she was short-staffed. At least, her clientele didn't expect anything "extra" from the employees.

"That's fine," said Solomon. "It's not actually a female strip bar. It's guys. One of you is taking it," he added, glancing at my colleagues. "You can wear tight outfits, stilettos and toss your hair all you want, but it's not required."

"I'm sorry, what?" said Fletcher as his head shot up.

"It's a male strip bar. The guys are the ones doing all the stripping. You'll be at the bar, serving drinks and taking cash, while keeping an eye on the other bartenders and employees," explained Solomon. "Any volunteers?"