The Detroit Chronicles: In Search of Amazing Cheastypants, Part III.

Hey folks, it's Lefty again. Lefty Detroit, Private Eye. Sorry about that little interruption, but I'm back. Now where was I? Oh yeah, that Ludmilla lady. What a dame! So there I am, standin' in the door to her boudoir, and there she is, this hot Russian KGB agent, dressed in like practically nothin', and she's calling me to come in there on account of how she's got something she wants to show me, if you know what I'm sayin'. So whaddaya think, I was born yesterday? I don't care how big and round and bouncy her, uh, her eyes are, Lefty Detroit knows when he smells a rat. But like my grandmother always used to tell me, sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, and let me tell it to you straight, I knew what I had to do. Clearly this dame was pretty hot for me, and honestly, who can blame her, you know what I'm sayin'? I mean, here I am, Lefty Detroit, fine upstanding member of the community, and on top of it all, I own my own business, right? Plus, chicks really dig all this spy stuff. So I figure I'm gonna have to trick this Ludmilla Krakova von Oopsiedaisypants into revealing infomation as to Amazing Cheastypants's whereabouts, and the best way to do that is clearly the time-honored art of seduction. Now I don't mean no disrespect to the next Mrs. Lefty Detroit, a.k.a. Miss Cookie von Countryclub, but this is how it's gotta be, if you know what I'm sayin', so in I went.

I gave Ludmilla my sexiest smile and walked over to where she was sittin' on this little couchy-chair-thing. "Lefty, vat's wrong, darlink," she said. "Have you got a, how you say, tummyache?"

"Uh, no Ludmilla, I'm just overwhelmed by your hot sexyness," I responded, pretty smooth if I do say so myself.

"Ah. Vell, nevermind," she said, and squeezed her arms around her middle, which, take it from me, did some pretty amazing things to her, uh, well. You know. Her anatomy, right? Huh huh. But back to the story. Ludmilla was still talking, and she said, "Come over to me here, Lefty. I vant that you should take a look at this leetle thing I vant to show you."

"Oh, Ludmilla, you are so hot and sexy," I said, getting closer.

"Hot?" she asked. "Oh, no, darlink, you are quite wrong. I am, how you say, freezing to death. It is so cold in here!" Hmmmm. Maybe that squeezing herself up wasn't a calculated move of unadulterated seduction, I think to myself. And it's true, her lips did look a little blue, but who's to say, so I tried one more time to trick her into falling in love with me and thereby revealing her cleverly hidden clues. "Oh, Ludmilla, I'm so in love with you, baby," I said, trying to slide my arm around her.

Ludmilla laughed her husky Russian KGB laugh and put on a sweater. "Oh, Lefty, you're so terribly funny, you dear boy. Vhen I vas in the KGB ve used the same little tricksies, no? Now please to stop playing around and look at this very important clue I vant to show you. I think it might help you to be finding my sweet Amazing Bunnypants."

And sure enough, she pulled a folded up yellow sticky note out from between her bosoms and showed it to me. In scribbly writing it said, "Hey Bunny, see you at yoga, 5pm! Love, Alishka."

"You see, Lefty," Ludmilla explained. "After Bunny wasn't to come to our bridge night, I, too, became qvite vorried about her. I vent over to her house that night while Cookie and Mitzi vere still playing vith the cabana boys, and I vas finding this note stuck to her door. I am not knowing who is this Alishka, but perhaps it could to be helpful for you?"

Well, a man knows when a woman's working hard to fight her attraction to him, and the way I figure it, Ludmilla's probably got some hot and sexy Russian boyfriend she's tryin' to stay faithful to. So I did what any gentleman would do in these tricky circumstances. "Ludmilla," I tolk her, "I'll look into this here clue, and thanks so much for passing it along." I pocketed the sticky note, turned around, and ran like hell for my Ford Fiesta, cause God only knows how many surveillance cameras and recording devices were aimed at my ass, and the last thing Lefty Detroit needs is an angry KGB boyfriend huntin' him down. I've gotta stay healthy and strong for my future wife, Miss Cookie von Countryclub.

Ok, I'll keep you folks updated as to my ongoing search for Bunny, a.k.a. Amazing Cheastypants. As always, if you got any clues, leave 'em in the comments, or sent 'em to my address at the Banshee Building, office 555A, 7th floor.

Over and out,
Lefty Detroit, Private Eye.