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think I’d ever really paid attention to before. We pulled in to a huge warehouse and a giant man in a dark suit met us at the door. Ida introduced him to me as Manny, but I was so stunned at the massive and intimidating man I don’t think I even spoke. He had to be packing heat, right? Isn’t that what they called it? I would’ve asked my friends but was too dumbstruck.
    We followed Manny up a staircase to an office. The giant ushered us in and got us chairs, before he left us alone.
    “Hello,” said a short little guy in what looked like a very expensive suit. He walked in through another door, followed by a man large enough to make four of the little guy. Where Manny was a solid wall of muscle, this man was more like a soft beanbag of jello.
    “Mr. Little,” Ida Belle began, “I’d like to introduce you to our friend, Margaret.”
    Mr. Little nodded, so I nodded back. I had no idea how you responded to a man of questionable business practices, so I decided to say as little as possible.
    “And this is Mr. Big.” Ida Belle indicated the heavy man. I gave him a nod and he returned it.
    “Very nice to meet you, Miss.” Mr. Big said. He seemed polite. Like Little, he was also wearing an expensive suit. They seemed nice for a couple of mobsters, considering they were the first ones I’d ever met.
    “Nice to meet you two as well.” I said, remembering my manners. Strangers, no matter who they were, deserved politeness. It was a longstanding southern tradition ingrained in us at birth alongside the overuse of ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir,’ and never skimping on the alcohol of a guest’s cocktail.
    “What can we do for you?” Little asked. He looked at Ida Belle expectantly and I got the impression that not only had they worked together before but that he considered her to be the leader of this little gang.
    “Margaret has a problem.” Ida Belle handed Little a photograph of my father. “Her father, Hugo Ancelet, turned up dead in the bayou.”
    Little shook his head sadly and handed the photo to Big. It was then I realized that they weren’t really named Mr. Big and Mr. Little. They were related. And Big and Little was how they were called to differentiate. Little must be Big’s son – a sort of mafioso family business.
    “That is a terrible thing, Miss Margaret.” Little said. “Please accept our condolences.”
    Big nodded. If they’d recognized my father from the photo, they didn’t indicate it.
    “It is sad to lose a loved one.” Big said. It was weird to hear a gangster with a southern accent. I’d always assumed, no matter where they lived, that they were required to maintain a New Jersey accent.
    “Thank you, but I barely knew my dad. He ran out on us when my sister and I were little.” Now what made me say that? I’d just given these men of questionable repute information on myself and my sister.
    “We were hoping,” Ida Belle cut in, “That maybe you could find out some information on Mr. Ancelet. Where he’s been, and who his associates were.”
    “You see,” Gertie said, “her mother is in a nursing home and she’s being arrested for the murder!”
    Fortune and Ida gave Gertie a sharp look.
    Little rubbed his chin, “Sunnyvale in Mudbug?”
    I gave a little start. “Why, yes. That’s right.”
    “How do you like it there?” Big asked.
    I didn’t really know how to react. “It’s, um, very nice.”
    The six of us sat in silence for a moment. My nerves were twitching but Fortune and the elderly ladies seemed relaxed. How often did they work with these two? And what did ‘working’ mean?
    “We will help you.” Little said, getting to his feet. Big stood up next to him and nodded. “No young lady should have so much tragedy in her life.”
    The two men walked out of the room. I was stunned. What just happened here? The door behind us opened and I got to my feet as the other women with me did too. Manny escorted us back to our car and we got in without saying