Miss Jane Marple drained a shot of whiskey and motioned to the bartender for a double. Chewing on her bottom lip, Nancy Drew eyed the dank dive bar. A yellow haze of nicotine mixed with desperation clung to every surface of Key Largo. The girl sleuth sat on a bar stool gingerly.

“So, Milady, if we could go over a few key points of the investigation for my notes.”

Miss Marple groaned and laid her sweet old lady forehead on the bar.

“Wharton, make that two shots and send them over to the far corner booth. Follow me, Dickens, and stop calling me lady,” Kennedy said.

“Sorry, milady, and I don’t drink,” Dickens said.

“Good, because both whiskeys are for me.”

Kennedy still camouflaged as Marple headed for the back with Dickens as Drew scampered behind. The Key Largo was a popular watering hole for the Order of the Sigil, the secret society preserving fiction magic, but a handful of mere mortals also frequented the bar as well. And with a mission as important as theirs, better safe than sorry.

“Milady, I am sorry to pester you with my questions. I know you don’t care much for pages especially us new boy pages. I will try harder. I promise.”

Nancy Drew looked as if she wanted to burst into tears. Feeling like an ass, Miss Marple rummaged in her carpet for a pack of mentols.

“Dickens, I don’t dislike you because you’re a page or because your XY, for book’s sake. I just hate exposition. I have have to explain things. Here goes. This whole case is so frustrating. The Order has been searching for the MacGuffin, the powerhouse of plot drivers, for centuries. If the MacGuffin fell into the wrong hands and was damaged every page turner, every cliffhanger, every new nail-biting rollercoaster plot could go off the rails,” Kennedy said.

“From Mary Rhinehold Roberts to Thomas Kinkade,” Dickens said, shivering.

“So your Nana found the talisman but hid it from the Order. Why and who has it now?” Kennedy said.

“Well knowing Granny Plath, most likely she hid the MacGuffin because someone in the Order was not to be trusted. I wonder if the Order member Gran feared stole the MacGuffin back? Anyway, that wasn’t my question.”

Wide-eyed, Kennedy stared at Dickens. Wait this kid is smarter than I thought, Kennedy thought. Concentrating, she lit her cigarette. He twirled his magical camouflage’s titian hair and looked serious. The bartender, covered in iambic pentameter tattoos, served them two shots of whiskey and a frosted sarsaparilla. The bartender gave Kennedy as Marple a knowing head nod and give Drew a salacious wink. Nancy Drew stopped fidgeting with her hair and took a hearty swig.

“So what is your question?” Kennedy asked through a blue puff of smoke.

Nancy Drew wiped the foam off her faint mustache. The girl detective pulled a slim volume from her cardigan pocket and slipped it to Miss Marple across the booth table.

“I found this at that abandoned tourist agency we searched. It’s my grandmother’s telephone phone book. I recognized it from her purse. Whay was this there?