"I just don't know," Ruby Bee was saying as I came across the dance floor. Due to the twang in her voice, as well as the whine (fruity and full-bodied), all four words were polysyllabic.
The remark was intended for her best friend and coconspirator, Estelle Oppers, who was perched on her favorite roost at the end of the bar, but I butted in anyway.
"You don't know something?" I said, my eyes wide and my jaw waggling as if I'd received a collect call from the White House. "But I've always assumed that you know everything, Ruby Bee. I am so stunned by the enormity of this revelation that I may faint in this exact spot where...