~ Prologue ~

The Silver Slipper, the crowning jewel of New Orleans herself. Just off the banks of the Mississippi, the popular dance hall saw crowds of visitors each night from up and down river. But not all of them were there to enjoy the music and share the latest dance moves.

Hidden in the basement was the city's most popular and secluded speakeasy. Or so everyone thought. Only those with connections and familiar faces got through the hidden door. For Detective Jack McLoughlin, though, making friends with the right people and creating a false trust only took a matter of time.

After weeks of undercover snooping and investigating, Jack had found all he needed to know before the big bust. Well almost.

The hit men he'd originally been trailing were obviously tied to the Silver Slipper, all the other speakeasies in town were mysterious run out of business by dirty competition, but only whispers were known about the torpedoes. Cajuns some said. Two of them, others whispered over empty whiskey glasses, brother and sister. Savoy was the only name he ever got from an old cat just before he passed out.

Savoy. Cajun siblings; brother and sister. His only lead. Taking a sip of water, the black feline glanced around the speakeasy. A Jazz band to one side with a bar selling its illegal product opposite, a few couples dancing the bunny hop and Charleston with frenzied feet. None of them knew what was about to happen. Jack checked his watch.

"They should be here just about…" he trailed off when the door burst open and cops flooded in. "Now."

"Raid!" someone shouted obviously. Cats scattered left and right, looking for places to hide and exits to escape through. No use, though. Policemen were stationed at each door. The place was surrounded with no way to escape. In a matter of minutes, the Silver Slipper was locked down and all of its guests locked up.

"Good work, Detective," the police chief chuckled, patting his trench coat shoulder. "This should be a good feather in your cap."

"Maybe," he muttered skeptically, scanning his green eyes over the crowd. No hit men. They had got away.

"Still after your Cajuns, huh?" the chief asked, "The Savoys was it? Don't bother, they skipped town last week."

"Any leads?" McLoughlin asked from under his hat.

"Relentless as always," the fat cop laughed. From within his inner pockets, the chief revealed an envelope. "We tracked them up river."

"You sure?" the detective asked, taking the files hesitantly.

The older cat just nodded. "Some time after your Cajun friends skipped town, similar killing started in St Louis. I think it's safe to assume they found another employer."

Jack scanned the reports quickly then tucked them in his own pockets for safekeeping.

"So what you think?" the chief asked, already knowing the answer.

"I think that I'll be heading up river tomorrow morning," the dark cat smiled, emerald eyes gleaming with anticipation.