"Easy, Inspector, keep your hats and shirt on. We're the Blonde Plutoz and Mister Fadda Bing here has us booked for eight weeks straight in the Grand Galactica ballroom."
The medical examiner lit up. "Grand Galactica ballroom, eh? I got vip tickets for the center balcony. You all playing Sundays too?"
"Yes sir, plus a matinée at four," Rivqua confirmed with a smile. "You're most welcome to the show and we look forward to seeing you there."
"No no, I don't want to go, I was just curious. I'm waiting for the legendary crooner Ynot Tenneb to come to town. His show's more mine and the missus' style."
Both the detective's heads looked away in thought.
"Hm, wouldn't mind catching that myself," he said. Tapping his pen again he swivelled toward the girls. "You're doing a residency here, why?"
"Because we're rock stars, that's why," Zana said.
"Is that so? Can anyone corroborate this?"
"Only about half the galaxy," said Zana, crossing her arms, "give or take."
"And you call yourself a detective," Rivqua said, hands on her hips.
"I deal in facts, kid, not conjecture. Or wishful thinking."
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