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Silver Sisters Mysteries
The third book in the funny Silver Sisters Mysteries series. The twins and their 80 year-old mother and uncle get into trouble sleuthing in Sin City.
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A fun-filled Silver Sisters escapade in "Sin City"... After Godiva's son Torch buys a condo in Las Vegas, his grandmother Flossie and great uncle Sterling decide to pay him a visit. When the old vaudeville magicians drag him to the Pageant of Peacocks starring sexy Mara the Magnificent it's love at first sight. The romance blossoms but when Torch returns from a meeting in L.A., Mara seems cold and distant. Torch turns to his mother, the advice columnist, for a helping hand. Godiva agrees to check things out during her upcoming trip to Vegas, when she joins her twin sister Goldie at a big antique expo. Flossie and Sterling tag along for a second trip to sin city. The family gets a shock while attending Mara's show, where a stagehand dies during the performance. Police call it accidental, but Mara is convinced its murder. Torch told her about his family's uncanny ability to solve mysteries, so she begs them to investigate the death of her friend. They start to poke around in their clever but kooky fashion and uncover an even bigger mystery. This time Flossie and Sterling take the lead and when they uncover a diabolical plot they come close to doing a disappearing act of their own!
Early the next morning they were back on the road. Right
after they turned onto Highway 40, Flossie adjusted her glasses
as she studied the route from Barstow to Laughlin. A mighty
roar swelled behind them and hundreds of Harley motorcycles
zipped past on both sides. Sterling’s hands gripped the wheel as
he rode along in the midst of the thundering bikes. “What the—?”
Flossie squinted at a logo on the back of one of the rider’s
leather jackets. It had the face of an old man with flaming gray
hair and lettering she could barely read. “Flamin’ Fogeys? Ever
heard of that, Sterling?”
Sterling took one hand off the wheel and slapped his forehead.
“I read about this in the Times on Sunday, but I never put
two and two together. It’s a good thing we made a reservation in
Laughlin. Matter of fact, it’s amazing that we got a room at all.”
“What are you talking about?” Flossie shouted over the noise
of motorcycle engines.
“Believe it or not, Flossie, we are about to meet the most famous
over-sixty motorcycle gang in the United States at their
annual Flamin’ Fogeys Festival. You wanted adventure, old girl?
Well, with about fifty thousand bikers over sixty partying all
through Laughlin, you’re gonna get it in spades.”
Flossie clapped her hands and gazed at the spectacle with
shining eyes, “Oh, Sterling, this is so exciting. Maybe we can
join their party.”
20 Vanishing Act in Vegas
The hotel parking lot was crammed with every size and vintage
of motorcycle, from big Harleys to little pink putt-putts. In
fact, the entire town of Laughlin was wall-to-wall bikes.
Thousands of frolicking seniors in leather chaps and jackets
pushed and shoved each other under the fluorescent orange
“Welcome Flamin’ Fogeys” banners that stretched in front of every
hotel along South Casino Drive.
Sterling inched old Betsy into the valet parking lane. “I tell
ya,” he shouted, “there’s so much noise I can’t hear myself think.”
“No big deal, Sterling,” Flossie shouted back. “I’ve been listening
to you think out loud all the way from L.A., and I’m tired
of hearing your old gears grinding.”
When they got out of the car, the valet ran his hand down
the seam of the tuck and roll upholstery and let out a low whistle.
“Boy, she’s some machine, isn’t she? I’ve been working here
quite a few years, and the only other old Caddy I’ve ever seen in
cherry condition like this belongs to Percy Presley. He’s an Elvis
Sterling gave the young man a steely gaze, “Don’t you go hot
rodding this baby up the ramp or I’ll show you my impersonation
of the Terminator.”
The valet patted Betsy’s bonnet. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good
care of it for you.”
As they walked into the lobby of the Silver State Hotel, Flossie
pointed to a poster of a well-endowed biker chick in a sexy black
leather bustier. She tugged Sterling’s sleeve. “Ooh, look Sterling.
They’re having a leather and lace fashion show. Let’s go see it.”
“We can talk about that later. Right now I’ve got to take care
of some urgent business,” and he set off to look for a bathroom.
By the time he got back to the reception desk, Flossie had struck
up a conversation with an old duffer who was shoehorned into
motorcycle leathers. His potbelly and bandy legs didn’t do much
for the outfit, but he was putting the moves on Flossie as if he was
a young stud and she was giggling like a school girl.
“Oh, here comes my brother-in-law now,” she said. “Hey,
St. James & Bradner 21
Sterling, come over and meet my new friend Stoney. He’s the
president of the Kansas Kickass Crusaders.”
Stoney had a booming voice and a handshake like a vise grip.
“I’m really a retired dentist,” he confessed, “but don’t tell anyone.”
Flossie took his arm and gave him a killer smile. “Stony likes
to play the part of a bad boy, don’t you bubbeleh?” He nodded as
she continued, “And he wants us to do a gig for them tonight.”
Stoney grinned. “Yup, our Kickassers are having a private
party in the Desert Room. Flossie, here, told me you two are magicians
and she volunteered to be part of the show tonight. You
guys can kinda get the crowd warmed up. No pay of course, but
it’ll be fun.”
Flossie and Sterling checked in and followed the bellman up
to their room. “See, Sterling,” she said, “it’s a good thing I packed
this extra bag with our spangled outfits. I thought we might need
them in Vegas, but we’ve already landed a gig even before we get
there.” She held up a modest pink costume covered with silver
sequins and posed in front of the mirror.
“We didn’t exactly land a gig. You threw yourself at that
blowhard dentist. You boxed him into a corner and you know it.”
Flossie rolled her eyes. “You’re such a stickler for details,
Sterling. Who cares how we got the chance to play a big stage?
I’ll be fun, won’t it?”
By the time the old magicians began their act, the room
was overflowing with folks from the Kansas Chapter of Flamin’
Fogeys—and they were all very drunk. Right in front of the stage,
a woman with teased hair and tight leather pants accused a grayhaired
cutie of making moves on her hefty honey. A fight broke
out and before long chairs were flying through the air. Flossie used
her shoe to bash one of the intoxicated bikers who had climbed
up on stage, and Sterling wrestled with a Yamaha Mama who
had gotten hold of his leg.
Through it all they kept on performing. “Remember that awful
night at the Temple Theater in Detroit?” Flossie whispered.
22 Vanishing Act in Vegas
“It wasn’t as bad as this.” Sterling pulled a string of scarves
from his sequined sleeve.”
Flossie produced a bouquet of silk flowers from her bosom
and said, “But the show must go on.”
“Not this time,” Sterling huffed as the cops burst into the
banquet room and photographers’ flashbulbs went off. “You’ve
managed to get us into a fine mess again, Old Girl. Looks like it’s
time for a disappearing act.”
Flossie shoved the flowers back into her spangled top and
grabbed his hand.
As a burly cop hauled Stoney past her, the disheveled dentist
called out to Flossie, “Call me, Honeypot.”
“Oy vey, don’t look back!”