While Grace, Jack, and their magical cool cats, Tatania and Zeus, race to find the guilty saboteurs, a 1920s Dance Marathon could turn deadly. "It was the kind of speakeasy where any woman who said she was alone by choice had credibility. Grace knocked on the door. Not because she needed credibility. She'd recently married. "What's the password?" A tipsy voice asked. "Lucky Lindbergh," she said. She walked past men in groups that smelled like champagne and women with sparkling jewelry. And there she was, a magnificent white Persian mix, on a bar stool, paws up, lapping up a bowl of cream on the counter."