“Who is this Melody Moon?” Bettina asked as she parked her hybrid in front of Melody’s apartment building.
“A friend. I’ll just run in, drop these off, and come right out.”
“These” were the Rudy DVDs.
“I’m coming in, too,” Bettina said.
“It’ll go quicker if you don’t, and you might get a ticket,” I said, leaving the car before she could argue about it.
Melody answered the buzzer wearing tan slacks, a bright-red sweater with silvery dots circling the neck and wrists, and a puzzled expression.
“Sorry to bother you on a Sunday morning,” I said, holding the DVDs behind my back.
“That’s okay,” she said. “Rita and I were just getting ready for a drive to Sag Harbor.”
“I won’t keep you, then,” I said, bringing the disks around and handing them to her. “I just dropped by to give you these.”
“Ohmigod,” she said, “Rudy’s shows. Come in, please, chef. Have a cup of coffee.”
She opened the door wide and I saw Rita Margolis perched on the maroon pressed cardboard sofa, glaring at me, a cup of something in one hand. She was dressed in white slacks and a matching white jacket over an orange T-shirt with a comic character I didn’t recognize at its center. A little winged man smoking a cigar and wearing a brown porkpie hat and a brown suit.
“Hi, chef,” she said. “Get those paint stains off your car yet?”
“Paint stains?” I repeated stupidly.
“I’ve seen the picture on the Internet,” she said. “I never would have guessed you for a run-and-gunner.”
“I’m not,” I said.
“Well, the Cheetah sure is. I was wondering what she was up to, sitting parked in that Hummer at the museum. I mean, the superheroes were supposed to be inside.”
“You got a good look at the Cheetah?” I said.
“I …” Rita paused, distracted by something behind me.
Bettina. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Billy’s … friend.”
“Please come in,” Melody said, ever the perfect hostess. “I was getting Billy a cup of coffee. Can I get you one?”
“We won’t have time,” Bettina said. “I got the call, Billy.”
“Just a minute,” I said, turning back to Rita.
“This the Cheetah?” Rita asked. “I thought she was taller.”
“You think the Cheetah was a woman?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah. Don’t you know who it was?”
“Billy,” Bettina said, “we’re wanted.”
“Right,” I said, keeping my eyes on Rita. “No. I don’t know who was wearing that costume.”
“Weird. Fact is, there was something weird about the costume, too. I’m not sure what. I’m not the world’s greatest Cheetah fan, like the boys at the museum. But there was definitely something off.”
“Like what?”
“I’d have to check the original art.”
“Would you?”
“We have to go, Billy,” Bettina said.
“It’s very important,” I said to Rita.
I must have gotten the point across, because she said, “They have some art at the museum. I’ll check it out when I’m there. Call me tomorrow afternoon.”
“Thanks,” I said. “We’ve got to run.”
“It was sweet of you to bring the DVDs,” Melody said. “How much do I—”
“No, they’re gifts,” I said. “My pleasure.”
“Come on, Billy.” Bettina grabbed my arm and almost dragged me from the room.
“You were rude up there,” I said to Bettina once we were back in her Camry.
“Really,” she said, zipping through the Sunday-morning traffic. “Tattooed people make me uncomfortable. And besides, she’s much too young for you. Both of them are.”
“Rita saw Felix,” I said.
“Oh,” Bettina said. “The figure in costume you were talking about?”
“If she and my driver are correct, and I suspect they are, Felix is a woman.”
“That might explain why she has been so successful,” Bettina said.
“And as for the ladies being too young for me,” I said, “I believe you’re only as young as the woman you feel.”
“All you old men believe that,” she replied.