"Pete, you came," Griffin greets me with a nod of the head as we arrive back at the bar. "I'm glad Muffy volunteered to go fetch you."

His weary eyes had seen much over the years, I'm sure, and the thought of a thief probably isn't helping the dark circles that had formed under them.

"Of course I did. This bar means as much to me as it does to you," Muffy insists, placing her hands on her hips. Her wet curls bounce and I'm reminded that it will take a little more than a rainstorm to dampen her wild beauty.

I have a storm of my own brewing in my head as I walk behind the counter. "What do you think you have here that a Phantom Thief would be interested in?" My eyes trace the bottles of various shapes and colors, many with elaborate labels – Kappa's Special, Paradise, Heaven's Gate, Snake Venom, Hair of the Dog, Purple Sky, Goddess Nectar, Devil's Potion…

"I'm really not all that sure; it's a old bar that's been in my family for generations," Griffin admits. "Sure, we have some rare brews here, but could he really be that desperate for a taste?" He takes a drag on his cigarette and coughs, squeezing his watery eyes shut.

"A smooth criminal with a thirst for an even smoother drink…" I run my fingers along the battle scarred countertop.

The story was always the same – a thief wants what a thief can't have. Can a jonesing for booze really drive a man to steal?

This was small-time crime, an open and shut case… that is, if it was really a bottle of liquor he was after.

"You told me this Phantom Thief is famous, Muffy. Famous for what?"

She leans against the bar, the slip of paper back in her hands as she scans the words once more. "Famous for slipping in and out like a wisp of smoke. Famous for getting away with whatever he wants." Her voice rose in anger. "I don't understand what he wants with a small bar like us!"

"That's the thing about criminals, Muffs. Put a crooked mind in a crooked person, and the whole thing comes out a mess." I plop down at the bar, removing my sodden hat, certain I look a mess as well.

"But we're gonna catch 'im tonight," Griffin points out. He removes a bottle of wine from behind the counter – Heaven's Gate. "Maybe a glass of the cheap stuff will raise our spirits, eh?" He holds up a green, generic bottle with a yellowed label. I know the bar isn't making enough for him to be more generous with his selection.

Muffy's face is paler than a ghost in a snowstorm. "I'll have a gin and tonic." She hurries behind the bar and begins scooping some ice.

"I'll have some of that wine," I chime in.

A Phantom Thief with a mysterious note – it really seems I can't hide from the old days. I stare up at the ceiling listening to the gentle pouring of wine and the sounds of a soft jingling. I look up and Muffy is twirling the cubes in her glass.

"Don't you worry about a thing. We'll put that Phantom Thief on ice tonight." I give a nod in her direction.

She drinks deeply from her hurried cocktail. "I believe the term is on the rocks."

"Well, I can tell you one thing, sister – he'll be between a rock and a hard place once I'm through with him."

"Well, we sure are mighty glad you're here to help." Griffin slides me my wine and I take a sip. It's tart like a cheap date and burns like the morning after. He probably has trouble giving the stuff away. Still, it's like my pappy always says, beggars can't be choosers.

"So are we planning to just wait this out and jump him?" Muffy's voice is strained as she takes another drink, perhaps for courage.

Griffin puts down his wine, promptly snuffing his cigarette. "You smell that?" His voice is barely above a whisper.

Smooth and savory, a distinctive blend of spices… I think of the diners back in the city, that small slice of home before I went back to my cold, dark apartment.

Japanese-style curry.

Muffy sniffs the air, setting down her drink. "Were you just cooking, Griff?"

The bartender shakes his head. "Had a sandwich a few hours ago… It smells like curry, right?"

"It… smells like it's coming from outside." She frowns.

We all stare at the door. Trying to get a feel for the situation, I wait for someone to make a suggestion.

"We should go check it out." Griffin squares his shoulders and takes a step toward the door.

Could this mysterious chef be planning to cook our goose?

I stand up. "It's best you don't go alone."

I hear Muffy's heels click on the floor behind the bar. "Well, I'm not about to be left alone in here. I'll grab my rain hat and be right behind you."

Griffin's already halfway out the door and I'm following him like a hound on the trail.

Our scent? Mama's sweet home cooking.

The rain has let up a bit. It makes sense, as we wouldn't have been able to smell much of anything if it was raining too hard.

Griffin seems to be on the same wavelength. "It can't be Ruby. At least I don't think."

"Wouldn't be able to smell it in this rain if it was. Whoever has the curry, they're close." Muffy's panting voice comes from behind us. She's wearing her plastic rain cap and as if on cue, the rain picks up, pinging off of it like ricochets from a gun.

"We have to be quick," I point out. The mysterious smell could be a clue. That's one thing I've picked up on the trail – if something smells fishy, you better sniff it out, even if it might be a red herring.

We walk along the path to the inn, checking for the source of the curry scent. However, the closer we get to the inn, the further we get from the smell.

"Well, we can't smell anything out here now, what with the rain," Griffin grumbles. He leads the way inside.

A bottle topples over and spins on the floor as the curtains of the bar flutter in the breeze like the angry spirits of my past. There's a crash from outside the window and I bolt outside.

Between the darkness and the rain, I can't see much more than a vague hooded figure in front of me. It tears off into the night, vanishing under a thick veil of mist. I chase as far as I can until I am blinded by the rain. Defeated, I trod back to the inn, my clothes and shoes as sodden as my spirits.

Muffy is visibly upset, and Griffin is holding her close, stroking her hair and comforting her. The bottles behind the bar are askew and Muffy is reading the labels of what remains.

"Hair of the Dog, Devil's Potion, Paradise, Goddess Nectar, Kappa's Special, Snake Venom…"

"Purple Sky is missing." Griffin's voice is low and he has a look on his face is even lower.

Muffy wipes her tears with the back of her hand. "It had to be the Purple Sky, the most expensive sake we carry." She stamps down her heel loudly with frustration.

The old bartender shakes his head, sighing. "Of all the things to take…"

A thief and a liquor sharing the same name. The phantom scent of curry and a phantom lurking in the night.

Now I think I've seen everything.

0o0o0o0

Author's Note: Here's the loooong awaited second chapter. Well, sometimes life gets in the way. I still have plans to complete this story, but I had a lot of logistics to figure out for the plot. I hope you enjoyed – writing in this style is a lot of fun for me, and my editor/husband gets a kick out of it, too. As always, I appreciate the feedback and I'd love to hear what you think of this new installment. I'm hoping to move this story back into my frame of focus and hopefully have it completed by the end of winter.

Maybe we'll bump into each other again in the future, sweetcheeks. Same time, same place?