Pancakes

The café was unusually busy, which meant all-hands on deck. Unfortunately, that was just Ivy and me. While she was bussing the tables and taking orders, I was cooking up a storm and burning through our older supplies. Sandwiches, buns, salads, our soup of the day, and the special for the holiday, pork chops Mitzi got cheap at a butcher. I had to more or less hack them apart with an icepick and a screwdriver, but now that the great mass of frozen flesh had some time to defrost, the pork chops were popping out nicely.

Curious then that amidst all the food we had on the menu, one came in that was annoying, yet simple. Ivy waved the ticket before pinning it to the string. Walking over, it simply said "pancakes".

"Ivy, who the heck wants pancakes? It's almost noon!"

The flapper girl just rolled her eyes before pointing to the corner. "Take a guess, Sherlock." My eyes followed the finger to a single table in the back corner where our resident violinist, strategist, and rum-runner extraordinaire was wildly waving at me. Sighing, I didn't even bother to question it. "Fine, I'll dig out the syrup and some butter." At least they'd be easy to make in the corner of the stove while everything else was cooking.

Upstairs, a certain young cat was getting ready to go out on the town, or at least she was hoping someone would take her to see the parade Mitzi said St. Louis had. She had found out that Missouri played a large role in the war Decoration Day was created to remember. There wouldn't just be soldiers like Ethan, but some would be very old, wearing uniforms she'd only read about in books.

Looking around, Riley realized that she had misplaced her brush somewhere in the room. However, she remembered that Ethan had a spare comb hidden in a box of personal stuff. Going into the next room, she quickly found the small box. It looked almost like the freight trunks that people often traveled with, but this one was only big enough that it would hold one or two of her textbooks. Opening up the lid, the comb was sitting nicely on top of a stack of paperwork. Picking it up, she disturbed a paper by mistake. It revealed a headline from a newspaper:

"Montanans Fight Through the Argonne"

Intrigued, she opened up the folded page to reveal a front-page article from the Billings Gazette. It was dated October 12th, 1918. Scanning it, the article seemed to be telling the personal stories of Montanan soldiers during the war. A dozen names from those interviewed near the end of the article had one circled about halfway down the list. The name was "Ethan Kelly." It was curious, because Ethan didn't talk much about the war. In fact, when she'd ask anything beyond a basic question, he just tried to change the subject. It was also one of the few things that could make him show any anger toward her, and Riley got the impression over time that he'd just rather forget about it all. Still, a young cat is nothing if not curious. Deciding to read it later, and maybe ask him that night in the speakeasy, Riley folded up the article carefully and placed it under her pillow, being sure to put the box back exactly where she found it.

Heading down the stairs, she made her way past the small backroom offices and store rooms before opening the door into the café. She was surprised by how busy it was. In fact, there was hardly an open seat anywhere except for one next to her new friend. Climbing into the single chair across from the tabby cat, Riley was puzzled by what he was wolfing down. She could also, strangely, feel a warm radiant heat coming from the cat. Just then she saw Ivy, so Riley waved to get her attention.

Ivy was cleaning up one table to make room for the next party when some motion near Rocky caught her eye. Looking up, the cat smiled to see young Ivy there in the seat. "Riley! Did you want anything for lunch?"

"Oh, no, not right now. Hey, what's with Rocky?" Riley then pointed at the cat who was now vibrating in his seat.

"Kinda scary, isn't it?" Ivy replied.

"Just a little. What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know for sure, but a doctor said it had something to do with all the sugar in the syrup. Don't worry, he'll be fine in a minute, we're always careful to give him inverted syrup."

"You give him the syrup upside down?"

Ivy laughed. "No, it just means it's simple, boiled down, not as sugary."

Sure enough, the intense reaction to the syrup passed and Rocky seemed to come back from whatever he had been hallucinating. "Oh, Riley, when did you get here?"

"About two minutes ago. What was that all about?"

"What was what about?"

"You know, the vibrating. The heat coming off you. I thought I saw smoke!"

"Huh?"

Ivy then stepped in. "Don't worry about it Rocky, you know kids. Can I take your plate… and get some napkins?"

"Oh, yes please Ms. Pepper!" Rocky quickly replied. Syrup was sticky, but thankfully over time he'd worked out a system where his favorite suit wouldn't get all messed up with the sticky stuff. He had actually been doing well without table incidents until Ivy spilled his syrup-coffee onto his shirt a few days ago.

Riley looked up at the clock and realized that she'd be late for the parade if Ethan didn't hurry up. "Ethan, are you almost done in the kitchen?"

A muffled voice from around the corner just yelled back. "Why? I'm actually kinda busy, Riley."

"We're going to be late to the parade!" Riley yelled back. After almost dropping a plate, I put everything down and stuck my head around the corner. "Parade? When were we planning to go to a parade?"

"It's the Decoration Day parade, silly. I thought you'd want to go?"

"Ah jeez Riley, those little parades in Butte were one thing. We knew people in the crowd. This is St. Louis; it will be a lot bigger."

"All the more reason to go!" Riley reasoned.

Rocky was curious. "Wait, Ethan, you were in parades back home?"

"Ugh, don't remind me Rocky. I never wanted to be in those things, except that old sergeant who rode with Roosevelt down in Cuba insisted on it. Tried to play hooky once and the man tracked me down. Though I guess I gotta give him some credit on his tracking skills, that guy was a real mountain man."

"You didn't have to obey orders from someone who was retired right? So why'd you go." Ivy asked. I admit it was a fair question.

"It was something, something, honor and duty. Plus you don't say 'no' to one of those old guys."

"Well, can we go to the parade anyway? I want to see all the floats!" Riley again asked.

"Look around Riley, we've got customers to serve." I explained as I pointed to two more batches of people showing up, a couple were in uniform. "Sorry kiddo, I'm needed here and then there's some preparation to do for later tonight."

"Aww." Riley pouted.

"Hey, there's always the fourth of July. Now that's a parade I want to see!" I said.

"I can take her." The grey tabby said as he finished cleaning up his table. It was still sticky, but Ivy would polish it up as soon as she could.

I wasn't exactly enthused by the idea. "You sure, Rocky? That's all the way downtown."

"It won't be a problem at all my dear cook. Besides, the lass got dressed and everything for the occasion." Rocky did manage to keep track of her in the park yesterday, so it's not like he was completely inept. Still, the thought of him navigating downtown with a child in tow amongst a large crowd of people filled me with several scenarios where I'd have to drop what I was doing and find her, or Rocky for that matter. But he had a point, Riley was so damn eager, and I could hardly say no to her secret weapon, a face that was either crafted in the highest echelons of heaven to move me spiritually or in the deepest pits of hell to manipulate her brother.

"Okay, fine. But take the trolley. Should only need to get off once to change routes. I trust you have change?"

Rocky felt around his pockets before coming up with roughly a dollar in coins. At least it looked that way from across the café.

"Good enough. Okay, but you two stick together. Rocky, don't you dare let her get out of your sight, understand?"

Rocky gave a salute as Riley tugged on Rocky's sleeve, pulling him from the booth and out the door. Ivy, having sat the customers and taken down their orders, swiveled her head around as the two left the shop. "Hey, Rocky still needs to pay for his food."

I sighed, palming my face. "Oh, I'll just pay for it at the end of the shift. Guess it's cheaper than a babysitter."

Parade

The streetcar was packed, which was a good thing because it meant that they'd probably be on time for the parade. Rocky was trying his best to keep focus, but Ivy must have picked up on his tense composure as she placed her hand in Rocky's. "It's okay, Rocky, I promise I won't run off. We don't even have to stand in a crowd or anything, I just want to watch some of the floats go by, then we can be going back home."

"Sorry, Riley. I just… well, I sometimes make a mess of things."

"How?"

"Well, let's see. There was getting this baby the other day." Rocky picked up his hat to reveal his head wound. "I should have zigged when I zagged. Oh, and not to mention accidentally brining five farmers right into the Lackadaisy."

"But you came out fine at the end, right? The rest of us were fine too. Well, except for Viktor."

"Exactly my point, little lady. But I guess if you're going to make it easy by not trying to run off, then everything will go swimmingly."

"All we have to find is a good spot where I can draw out the parade." Riley then produced her sketchbook and pencils from her bookbag.

"Ah, so the young artist has decided this would be a good day for another memory."

"Yeah! And after that we'll be making another one. Miss May said that tonight was going to unique for the Lackadaisy."

"Oh yes, unique indeed. We've had Decoration Day before down there, but our main clientele was the high rollers. Most of them have never touched a rifle before, unlike your brother. So alas it was often a more mundane affair with only a small group of soldiers, young and old, sharing a table or two. At least it sounds like they'll be coming back this year."

"Hey, isn't this where we need to switch cars?" Riley asked. Rocky took a minute to remember the route before spying the right car approaching on a North-South route to downtown. "Yep, better pull the cord, dear."

Rocky was sure to help Riley off the car before they made their way across the intersection amidst a small crowd of people who got off at the same spot. flagging down the driver who brought the streetcar to a halt. After paying the additional fare, it was a smooth ride into downtown. Like the last car, this one as packed as well with parade-goers. Soon enough, the buildings became taller, and the streets felt more like canyons. All the floats could be seen the next street over. "This is it!" Riley exclaimed.

"Come on Rocky, we can still get a good view if we hurry!" She said, dragging Rocky behind her as the tabby held onto his hat. Unfortunately, there was already a large crowd streetside and the parade had already begun. That conversation with Ethan had made them late.

"Aw rats, I can't see." Riley said as she tried to elbow her way through the crowd.

"Hey, miss Kelly, wait up! Remember you said you weren't going to run off on me!" Rocky yelled, but the child had already slipped in amongst the faces. She must have gotten excited by the parade floats and forgot about what she had said twenty minutes earlier. At first, Rocky wasn't too concerned, he was sure he saw where she had gone into the crowd and surely, she wouldn't get very far on the sea of people. But after a couple of minutes he began to worry as there was no sign of her. "Crap, Ethan's going to kill me…"

Dragon

I was busy with more orders, but thankfully the customers were slowing down. The parade must have started by now, and uniformed veterans were walking past the windows less and less. Half an hour had passed, and all that was left of our customers was a couple of lads at the counter and one gentleman who sat down, diving into a newspaper. I didn't pay him any mind, but Ivy came back into the kitchen just when I was cleaning out the stove.

"Hey Ethan?"

"Yeah, Ivy?"

"This guy at the booth says he wants to see you."

"Does he want to give complements to the chef or am I going to have a plate of food thrown at me?"

"Actually, all he's ordered was a water."

Not seeing that I had much choice in the matter, I put up my apron and went around the counter, wiping down my hands with a clean rag in the process. "You wanted to see me sir?"

The one face I had hoped not to see again then appeared from behind the newspaper. Drago.

"Afternoon Mr. Kelly. I trust you've been having a good weekend. Staying out of trouble, I hope."

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Drago? Or, more importantly, did you want anything from the kitchen?"

"Actually, I'm here to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind. I know it's a busy day, but it looks like you've got a respite from the lunch rush."

"And if I say 'no'?"

"Then I may have to come back here with a warrant, and I'm guessing Mitzi May wouldn't appreciate that, now, would she?"

"Fine…" I said as I slid into the booth.

"Good. Now, let's not dance around the topic. We both know what's beneath us."

"No, do tell Drago, I'm merely the cook."

"Look, Ethan. If I was here to arrest anyone, I would have come with a police escort. There's been a strange series of events around town, and I just need to know who is responsible."

"Go on then, if it gets you out of here quicker. What do you want to know from me?"

"I'm sure you don't know this, but there's a gang in town called the Marigolds. They run a very high-end liquor operation. Surely you know by now who your boss was married to, and this café is supposedly the only thing left of his legacy. All of it a vanquished empire, taken over by more ruthless competition."

"So you want answers from a guy who just rolled into town about the happenings of a city with almost a million people in it? Maybe all those years out west made you soft."

"Hardly, and you know it. Anyways, what I want to know is if you've heard anything. You see, some associates of mine are looking for a phantom killer of sorts. Four agents west of town turned up dead. Two in an apparent car crash, the other two in the river."

I had to keep a cool head and not reveal even the slightest detail. A tall order if I also wanted to keep his suspicions to a minimum. "Well, Drago, I did hear something about that in the newspaper last week. Old news by now though. If I recall, the paper said two disappeared and the other two wrecked on a dirt road in the middle of a thunderstorm. Doesn't seem like there's much of a case to explore."

"That's merely what the police have released to the papers. What they didn't say is that the cars had bullet holes in them, three of the agents were shot and another was stabbed."

Pretend ignorance was my best gamble at this point. "You said Marigold, right? Like the hotel?"

"Correct."

"Well, unfortunately there's nothing I can tell you that you don't already know. Like I said, I'm the cook here. And, as long as we're being honest with each other, that 'vanquished empire' is indeed vanquished. Done, kaput, deceased. Poor Mitzi can't even keep a full staff here at the café."

"Which is what I hoped to hear, for your sake Mr. Kelly. But I do have some questions for your boss if you don't mind getting her."

I sighed, pretending that the inconvenience was most unwelcome. "Very well, Drago, I'll be back in a moment."

"Good lad."

Climbing up the stairs, I made my way to Mitzi's office. Knocking on the door, I waited patiently as the latch turned and revealed her tired but smiling face. "Ethan, a welcome surprise. Is there something you needed dear?"

"There's a guy who wants to talk to you down in the café."

"It's not Wick, is it? Or Asa? I don't think I can stomach any more platitudes from high rollers for now."

"Far worse, it's a guy from the Treasury Department."

Mitzi's eyes instantly lit up and her tail fluffed out. "What?!"

"Relax, freaking out won't help us here. His name is Drago, he knows me from way back. I'll explain our shared history later, but for now you need to know that he's asking about Marigold's missing agents."

"I thought you and Rocky were thorough?"

"Honestly, I was following Rocky's plan. But it doesn't matter right now. Drago seems to think we're legitimate, or at least that's what he's letting on. All we got to do is get him out of here satisfied with the answers he's looking for."

"Okay. Say no more, dear. I'm glad you came to get me. Just follow my lead and I'll have this fire put out."

Coming back down the stairs, we both entered into the café. Mitzi slides into the booth and I go back into the kitchen, Ivy following me close behind. "Ethan, who is that guy?"

"And unfortunate part of my past, Ivy. His name is Dominic Drago. Rocky and I bumped into him at the police station, and he apparently got talking with Zib when he was in the drunk cell."

"What should we do?"

"Wait and see. But act normal, just clean stuff. I'm going to fetch one of our frying pans from the back in case I need to serve up a last-minute order." I winked to get the point across, to which Ivy nodded.

Mitzi was very nervous, but years of mastering the art of deceit had left her with nerves of steel. "So, Mr. Drago, is it? Ethan said you wanted to ask me something."

"Yes, Mrs. May. First of all, my condolences to your loss. As Ethan no doubt told you, I am from the Treasury Department. Atlas was an adversary of sorts, but an honorable one, nonetheless. His death was one of the more depressing things to happen last year."

"An odd sentiment from a federal agent, don't you think? The nature of my husband's businesses are known, but like you said, he's gone. So what exactly are you hoping to get from this conversation?"

"I just want to hear it direct from the heir that there's nothing illegal happening here. Ethan tells me you barely have enough staff to keep the place running."

"That's all very much the case, Mr. Drago. While I'm not going to confirm or deny police allegations against my husband, he is indeed dead and what he built went with it. All I have left is this café and a few of his personal effects."

"So the big cave downstairs is empty?"

"Nothing more than a shadow collecting dust."

"That's all I needed to hear. It helps narrow down my search for whoever killed those agents last week. I figured it would be a good idea to ask the oldest competition in town before moving onto other suspects."

"If that's all, then I'm afraid I need to get back to important matters regarding our budget for the next quarter."

"Very good, and never forget to pay those taxes, Miss M. That will be the only other reason you'd see me again." Drago then got up, folded his paper, and bid farewell to the two ladies in the café. Just before leaving, he stopped to turn his head at the door. "Oh yes, and you may want to send someone down tomorrow morning to get your friend Zib out on bail. Try to make sure he doesn't miss another court date, otherwise St. Louis' finest will be back here looking for him."

"Of course, Mr. Drago. Thank you for the reminder."

"Tell Ethan to have a good Decoration Day. Those boys earned it." And with that he was out the door and into the street. I arrived only a few seconds too late, a loaded 38 special hidden under my apron.

"Miss M, is he gone?"

"For now, dear. For now. But you and Rocky are going to need to learn how to do a better job cleaning up next time, we can't afford that kind of attention."

"Of course. It was stupid to leave any evidence behind whatsoever. Do you think he suspects anything?"

"Hard to say for certain, Ethan, but I don't think so. Our skeleton crew is convincing enough. I'm just glad Rocky isn't here; the poor boy wouldn't have lasted ten seconds against a federal agent. Speaking of, where is the Rocky?"

Lost and Found

Rocky was now in panic mode. He could faintly hear Riley over the crowd, and it sounded like she had gotten lost. "Damn, this is all my fault. Why can't I do even the simplest of things right?" He asked himself. He now lost Riley completely, not even her voice remained in earshot. As the parade passed by, Rocky weaved in an out of the crowd. Up ahead he saw a young girl with the same hat and dress on. A wave of relief swept over him. "Oh thank goodness. Riley, you just about gave me a heart attack—" But as he put a hand on the young child and turned her around, it was apparent that wasn't his charge.

"Get your hands off my daughter you creep!" A woman sharply spoke, followed by several whacks from a purse. Realizing that this could quickly spiral into police questioning, Rocky made haste for the end of the block. Finally able to catch his breath, Rocky ducked into an alley as a couple of pursuers rushed by on the sidewalk. Apparently, the woman he angered has some friends. With one problem taken care of, he could focus on the next one. But before he could, a sniffle from behind him alerted Rocky to someone else's presence. Only a few feet away was a very scared Riley.

"Riley, there you are!"

Riley picked her head up instantly and rushed into Rocky's arms. "Rocky! I'm sorry, I thought you were right behind me and then you weren't."

"I'm the one that should be sorry. It's okay, I'm here now. But what happened to sticking together?"

Wiping her tears, Riley thought for a moment. "I didn't think the crowds were that big. Butte was nothing like this on a parade day."

"Well, living in the city does take getting used to. But I'm glad we found each other. Now, should we see the parade before it's over? If we cut through the next alley we can catch up to a lot of the floats."

"Okay…"

"Good. Now this time let your guide to the city lead the way, and I promise I won't let go of you or let the crow separate us."

Rocky was glad his shortcut worked, but the same problem as before was now in front of him. He wasn't exactly a tall cat, and Riley was far too big to be on his shoulders anyway. But she was barely up to his chest and there was no way either of them would have much of a view.

"Great, now what?" Riley asked, looking up at her companion.

"Hmm…" Rocky thought. Patterns seemed to float around in his head, calculations of sorts. Numbers, variables, equations, all the mysteries of the universe… but then he had an idea.

"Here, I'll give you a boost." And in an instant, Riley found herself eye-level with the bottom of a fire escape ladder. "Climb up that, I'll be right behind you."

Riley did as she was told, coming to a landing after four or five rungs. Not particularly high up in the air, but enough that she now had an excellent view of the crowd and the parade. Here eyes widened in amazement. A couple of loud bangs, a crash, and a thud brought her attention down below where Rocky had fallen after accidentally extending the ladder to the ground by his weight. But the cat quickly got to his feet, and in a fit of laughter at his own chaotic genius, he scrambled up the ladder and settled down next to Riley. "There, best view in the theatre of concrete and steel I'd say, right young one?"

"Absolutely! And now I can finally draw out that sketch…" Riley waited for the right float to come by, and while they were all very neat, one caught her eye. She quickly sketched out the scene before her, making notes with the pencil on where she'd have to add details later. Rocky was content to simply watch and take in the wonder before him. "Ah, the world is full of magic!" He declared; certain Riley would agree.

As they watched, one scene developed before them that was nothing short of magnificent. Infantry from the Great War came around the corner, flags and a band leading the procession as several companies passed by. While Riley was furiously sketching, Rocky was remembering an old song he had heard in his travels. He hummed it softly which, even among the cheering, seemed to resonate with the young cat as she scooted close to Rocky.

"Here how's this?" Riley said, allowing Rocky a peek of her work.

Not only had Riley managed to depict the company of soldiers passing quite well, but she had included a couple of cats up on a platform. Riley and himself. "Wow, you really have talent Miss Riley. I can't wait to see what you can do in a couple of years."

"You think I'll be a good artist then?"

"You are a great artist now! I'm glad to witness it." He complimented her. Riley was happy to turn it around though. "And I'm glad to know a great violinist."

"Well, should we head back? I'm sure Ethan is already getting a crowbar ready for me."

"Nonsense, he would never hurt you." Riley replied as she waited for Rocky to drop to the ground.

"What makes you say that? While I certainly don't want to offend or make light of his contributions to the crew, I've seen some convincing evidence so far that he's capable of more than your brother lets on." Rocky said as he helped catch Riley, bringing her from the last rung of the ladder safely to the ground.

"The other night he said you and Freckle were like our brothers." Riley explained. In the innocent earnestness of a child, the truth is revealed. Rocky couldn't help but show a smile as he and Riley made their way back to the streetcar station. He typically had to dig for any nugget of truth that confirmed he was at least tolerated, yet here was proof that someone, somewhere, cared about him.