<div class="floatright">(http://i219.photobucket.com/albums/cc188/rowantree13/MorganHoyt-1.png)</div><em>'Sheesh, it's one hell of a night,'</em>Morgan thought to herself, glancing up at the cloudy and darkening evening sky.<br/><br/>The day had began promisingly enough, with a delivery to Mrs. Post of a whole 'Rainbow Cake'. The old lady had given the runner a bottle of her homemade bathtub gin, and with a little 'experimenting', the stuff could be purified enough to not cause blindness or any other... unsightly conditions.<br/><br/>Arriving to the bakery just in time for the evening rush, Morgan had let in Mrs. Franklin, the wealthy widow; the lady probably had more pocket change than people see in a month's pay, but she was a customer, and respected as such. Then a big hulking fellow arrived, and Morgan made sure to look up at the guy with a friendly grin.<em>'Wow, he'd make a heck of a bouncer!'</em><br/><br/>Through the supply room door, she could hear the faint notes of music as the band finished their latest number. It was a shame she couldn't yet go see the show, since the newest singer had been described as 'a heck of a looker' by a few of the boys. But she had to keep an eye on Mike Stoddart, the head chef-<br/><br/><strong>"Look, I don't have time for games, wiseguy, just tell me where you're keeping the hooch at!"</strong>Morgan could hear the shouting from the kitchen as she opened the supply room door, locking it securely and wincing at the gruff tones of a familiar police officer. 'Uh-oh, sounds like Mike's got another blue visitor today...'<br/><br/>Michael was already locked in a heated argument as Morgan entered the Rainbow Cake's kitchen. "How many times I gotta tell you guys?" He was shouting over the counter at the cop, as the blue-blood's squad car idled parked outside on the street. "There ain't a drop of booze in this place, just like everywhere else! This whole city is so damned dry it's a miracle you can still get a glass of water!"<br/><br/>Morgan winced, tipping her hat down and shading her eyes as the blue-uniformed flatfoot glared at Mike.<strong>"Rules is still rules, Stoddart, and you know it!"</strong>The cop growled, swiftly turning his head, blue eyes like ice chips as he noticed the newest entry into the kitchen.<br/><br/>"Hello, Sergeant Riley," Morgan said, nodding politely. She looked back up at Mike, catching his eye. "Missus Post got her delivery, and she says 'thank you' for the cookie trays you keep makin'!"<br/><br/><strong>"Cookie trays, Mike? What happened, did you run out of moonshine to make 'rum cake'?"</strong>The sergeant asked, flippantly.<strong>"Why don't you call that kind of cake 'moonshine' instead of-"</strong><br/><br/>"Because that's the name for it! 'Rum cake' sounds a lot better than 'a mix of butter, sugar, and spices that tastes kind of like Rum cake, don't you think, officer?" Michael was still in an argumentative mood. Of course his rum cakes were genuine. He made a fortune off them as such. No other bakery was able to match the flavor of real rum like Michael could. "So do you have any other 'evidence' to confront me with, now that we've gotten that out of the way? Or would you like to poke around again?" Michael turned to look at Morgan with an exasperated face.<br/><br/>Sergeant Riley sighed, shaking his head.<strong> "Not anymore today, I've got to be on the rest of my beat,"</strong>The cop held a nightstick in a meaningful way.<strong>"But remember, Stoddart, I've got an eye on you,"</strong>The sergeant growled, before opening the door and exiting out into the pouring rain. Morgan crossed her arms, glancing up at Mike.<br/><br/>"Hard luck, baker man. There's gotta be a way to get the fuzz off of this place somehow." She shook her head. "All because your cakes are the best in town, somebody's got to rain on the parade."<br/><br/>"Tell me about it. It's worse than my old place." Michael said with a bit of a smirk. Less than a year ago, any joke about the closing of Michael's former steakhouse would have been met with a lot more than just a harsh glare. These days, the man was making jokes about it himself. It just didn't hurt to think about anymore. In one way, he was almost glad it had. Working at the Rainbow Cake was easily the most exciting job he'd ever had, and in some ways, the most rewarding. Morg wasn't a bad dame to work with, either. He had more in common with her than most deliver 'boys' he had over the years.<br/><br/>"By the way, Morg, the big boss called. You know where to find her." He motioned at the door to his side, which lead to the dry storage room where he kept all his flour, sugars, yeasts... everything a bakery needed to run. "Make sure you let her know Riley dropped in to say hi again."<br/><br/>With a grin, she nodded as she headed back to the supply room, making a note to call Florida a few hours later, when the timing was right.<em>'Can't wait to hear from 'Mama' again...'</em>