Vanda. “How are you?”
“Yes, dear, how are you?” Maggie asked when Vanda didn’t answer. “Phil told me about that horrible snake, and I just had to make sure you were all right.”
“I’m…fine,” Vanda said quietly.
“Well, it was mighty nice of Phil to call you up,” Cora Lee said to Maggie.
“And we’re delighted to see you again,” Pamela added.
“It’s lovely to be here,” Maggie said, smiling. “The club is a huge success. I’ve never seen such a big crowd.”
“Yeah, that’ll show Corky Courrant,” Cora Lee muttered.
Pamela winced and shook her head.
Cora Lee gasped and covered her mouth.
Vanda frowned at them. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Pamela and Cora Lee answered together.
Vanda glared at Cora Lee. “Out with it.”
“It’s nothing!” Cora Lee insisted, then turned to Pamela for help. “It amounts to nothing, right? We have a huge crowd. They all came to see why Corky said our club was violent and evil.”
“What?” Vanda yelled.
Phil walked toward her. “It’s all right. Corky used her TV show to announce a boycott of your club, but her plan obviously backfired.”
Vanda’s eyes flashed with anger. “She’s trying to destroy me.”
“Your club will be fine,” Phil said softly.
“Not as long as that bitch is around,” Vanda hissed, and she vanished.
“No!” Phil made a grab for her, but she was already gone.
“Land sakes,” Cora Lee whispered. “Where did she go?”
“Where do you think, bigmouth?” Pamela snapped. “She went to DVN to let Corky have it.”
“Sweet Mary and Joseph,” Maggie breathed. “We need to stop her.”
Chapter Seven
T
hey have lousy security,” Phil said as he followed Maggie down a hallway at DVN. No alarm had gone off when they had teleported into a costume room. “You’d think they’d be more careful after that incident last December.”
Maggie leaned close and whispered, “These guys aren’t exactly grounded in reality.”
“I see what you mean,” Phil muttered. They passed a group of actors in the hallway, and one of them, dressed as a giant chicken, was practicing his squawk.
“That’s it!” one of his companions said. “Now do it again, but with more passion.”
Another actor, dressed as a pirate, joined in. “Yaar, me hearty. Ye must believe that ye be a chicken.”
Phil snorted. A chicken with fangs.
“This is it.” Maggie stopped in front of a door decorated with a giant gold star. Corky Courrant was painted across the star in bright red cursive script.
Maggie listened. “I don’t hear any fighting inside.”
“That’s a good sign,” Phil said.
“Unless Corky’s already dead,” Maggie whispered.
Phil opened the door and marched inside. Corky was very much alive, seated behind her desk, studying photos. In the corner, a little bald-headed man with a camera gasped, then teleported away. No sign of Vanda.
Corky glanced up. “How dare you barge in like that!” She gathered up the photos and shoved them into a desk drawer. “Who the hell are you?”
“Don’t you know?” Phil asked. “You posted my picture on your show tonight.”
Corky sniffed, then waved a hand in dismissal. Her large jeweled rings glittered under the fluorescent lights. “I’m not interested in the identity of a mortal. Get out of my office.”
“I was the man pinning down the dancer at the Horny Devils nightclub. How did you get that photo?”
“I’m a journalist. I never reveal my sources.” She glanced at the corner where the little man had teleported away. Her bosom heaved when she sighed with relief.
“Hello, Corky.” Maggie strode inside, her cowboy boots clunking on the linoleum floor.
Corky sat back. “Well, if it isn’t little Maggie, known for her short stature and her equally short career as a mediocre actress. What brings you to New York?” She eyed Maggie’s clothes with disdain. “A little shopping, I hope?”
Maggie approached the desk. “I just had a
“Yes, dear, how are you?” Maggie asked when Vanda didn’t answer. “Phil told me about that horrible snake, and I just had to make sure you were all right.”
“I’m…fine,” Vanda said quietly.
“Well, it was mighty nice of Phil to call you up,” Cora Lee said to Maggie.
“And we’re delighted to see you again,” Pamela added.
“It’s lovely to be here,” Maggie said, smiling. “The club is a huge success. I’ve never seen such a big crowd.”
“Yeah, that’ll show Corky Courrant,” Cora Lee muttered.
Pamela winced and shook her head.
Cora Lee gasped and covered her mouth.
Vanda frowned at them. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Pamela and Cora Lee answered together.
Vanda glared at Cora Lee. “Out with it.”
“It’s nothing!” Cora Lee insisted, then turned to Pamela for help. “It amounts to nothing, right? We have a huge crowd. They all came to see why Corky said our club was violent and evil.”
“What?” Vanda yelled.
Phil walked toward her. “It’s all right. Corky used her TV show to announce a boycott of your club, but her plan obviously backfired.”
Vanda’s eyes flashed with anger. “She’s trying to destroy me.”
“Your club will be fine,” Phil said softly.
“Not as long as that bitch is around,” Vanda hissed, and she vanished.
“No!” Phil made a grab for her, but she was already gone.
“Land sakes,” Cora Lee whispered. “Where did she go?”
“Where do you think, bigmouth?” Pamela snapped. “She went to DVN to let Corky have it.”
“Sweet Mary and Joseph,” Maggie breathed. “We need to stop her.”
Chapter Seven
T
hey have lousy security,” Phil said as he followed Maggie down a hallway at DVN. No alarm had gone off when they had teleported into a costume room. “You’d think they’d be more careful after that incident last December.”
Maggie leaned close and whispered, “These guys aren’t exactly grounded in reality.”
“I see what you mean,” Phil muttered. They passed a group of actors in the hallway, and one of them, dressed as a giant chicken, was practicing his squawk.
“That’s it!” one of his companions said. “Now do it again, but with more passion.”
Another actor, dressed as a pirate, joined in. “Yaar, me hearty. Ye must believe that ye be a chicken.”
Phil snorted. A chicken with fangs.
“This is it.” Maggie stopped in front of a door decorated with a giant gold star. Corky Courrant was painted across the star in bright red cursive script.
Maggie listened. “I don’t hear any fighting inside.”
“That’s a good sign,” Phil said.
“Unless Corky’s already dead,” Maggie whispered.
Phil opened the door and marched inside. Corky was very much alive, seated behind her desk, studying photos. In the corner, a little bald-headed man with a camera gasped, then teleported away. No sign of Vanda.
Corky glanced up. “How dare you barge in like that!” She gathered up the photos and shoved them into a desk drawer. “Who the hell are you?”
“Don’t you know?” Phil asked. “You posted my picture on your show tonight.”
Corky sniffed, then waved a hand in dismissal. Her large jeweled rings glittered under the fluorescent lights. “I’m not interested in the identity of a mortal. Get out of my office.”
“I was the man pinning down the dancer at the Horny Devils nightclub. How did you get that photo?”
“I’m a journalist. I never reveal my sources.” She glanced at the corner where the little man had teleported away. Her bosom heaved when she sighed with relief.
“Hello, Corky.” Maggie strode inside, her cowboy boots clunking on the linoleum floor.
Corky sat back. “Well, if it isn’t little Maggie, known for her short stature and her equally short career as a mediocre actress. What brings you to New York?” She eyed Maggie’s clothes with disdain. “A little shopping, I hope?”
Maggie approached the desk. “I just had a
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