You've all heard of Charlie's Angels, right? Don't lie, I know you have. Everyone has. After all, we've heard the jokes enough. They were funny the first million times. Not anymore. So, we are four women who happen to love mysteries. (And, hey, weren't there only three Angels?) We don't go around with a man named Bosley and we certainly don't take orders from a man named Charlie. And we're not angels. In fact, our first case had us all acting anything but.

It all started on a Saturday night. Joy owns a club where the ladies do what I believe is now called exotic dancing. We were all there waiting for her to turn over her keys to her second in command so the four of us could go out for a birthday dinner and have a night long movie party (When a person spends all of her time in a bar, sometimes she wants her birthdays to be a little understated.) I was bickering good naturedly with Leora as we waited. She's been my best friend since we were children and we've got it down to a science. Willow was just pretending she didn't know us like she usually does, and the night was getting off to a pretty good start.

Suddenly, the night was pierced by a shrill scream. The entire club went silent. It was about five o'clock so there was only a handful of people there. That scream cut through whatever noise they made like a knife.

A startled look went over Leora's face, and I imagine the same look went over my own. Joy broke off her conversation with Michael and ran towards the door that led to the dressing rooms. Willow was right behind her, her face even grimmer than usual. Afraid the two of them were in danger, Leora and I hesitated only a moment before following.

Once through that separating door, we saw that one of Joy's dancers had a man in a hammer-lock, pinned against the wall across from her dressing room. She wore her "theme" outfit, that of a cheerleader. The man wasn't familiar to me, though I admit that I didn't have a very good view of him from this angle, either.

Joy, on the other hand, seemed to recognize him immediately, and whirled angrily to Michael, who stood between her and Willow. "I thought you said you took care of this," she accused.

"I did," the taller man replied before taking the stranger away from the dancer. Addressing the unwelcome visitor, he said, "What does Calhoun want now?"

The other man didn't speak. His wide eyes darted from the dancer (she'd obviously surprised him with her quickness and strength -- good for her, I thought with admiration) to Joy to Michael, sparing Leora and myself the most cursory of glances.

Michael shook him a little and repeated his question. This time, the man made a sudden motion and broke free of Mike's grasp. He dashed back into the club, Mike right on his heels. We didn't see the intruder again -- alive, anyway.

Meanwhile, Joy had an arm around the dancer's shoulders, speaking softly to her. I couldn't tell if the words were intended as comfort or congratulations, nor did I understand just what had happened. I could see from Leora's quizzical expression that she was in the same boat.

"Dammit!" Joy spit, her outburst startling us. She coaxed the dancer back into the dressing room and ushered us back to the bar. Trevor, the assistant bartender, brought us some soft drinks as we waited expectantly for Joy's explanation.

"Is she okay?" Willow asked, referring to the cheerleader in back.

Joy nodded, though her face was stilll screwed up in an expression of concern and frustration.

"What do you think, Toni?" Leora whispered to me. "Joy keeping something from us?"

I gave a slight nod. She had to be. Who was that guy pinned to the wall? Who was Calhoun? What was it Mike was supposed to "take care" of? Where the hell was Mike, for that matter?

The four of us didn't speak of what happened for the rest of the night, but that didn't stop me from thinking about it. On and off during dinner and the movies that followed, I found myself glancing at Joy and wondering what she was hiding from us. As far as I knew, we had never kept anything from each other before. The four of us had been a team ever since college, where we had shared an apartment. I had graduated with a math degree and had become an accountant; Leora had become a teacher; Joy had dropped out to start her club; Willow was pursuing a graduate degree in psychology. Leora had married and divorced. Joy had become pregnant and lost a child. I had almost broken apart at the death of my father. Willow was still trying to deal with the beatings she had received as a child. Through it all, we had been a unit. With the support of the others, we had survived. To think that Joy was keeping something back, that she might be in some trouble that she hadn't asked us to help her out of... it was almost inconceivable. Yet there it was.

After our movie all nighter--the movies I couldn't even remember because I had spent more time worrying about Joy than watching--Leora and I shared a cab home. We still live in the same building, though we're not roommates anymore.

As soon as we were in the relative quiet of the cab, she looked at me and asked, "So what do you think's going on?"

It was uncanny because I was just about to do the same thing. I shrugged. "I don't know, but whatever it is, Joy's in trouble."

She nodded and looked thoughtful for a moment. "So what are we going to do?"

I didn't even have to think about that one. "We're going to help her, of course. Come hell or high water, no matter what she's gotten herself into. The first thing we've got to do is find out who that man was."

Leora chewed her lip, then replied. "I suppose you're right. But...um...can we get some sleep first?"

A good sleep cycle does wonders for the mind. I awoke on Sunday afternoon with a clarity that was both startling and wonderful. Sadly, it was short-lived. As soon as Leora and I set foot in the club to demand that Joy tell us what was going on, we saw the body.

Joy sat at the bar, her face in her hands. Less than ten feet away from her, pinned to the stage with what looked like a samurai sword, was the man Mike had chased the day before. The man who had been pinned to the wall by the cheerleader dancer.

"Joy?" Leora said tentatively. It seemed to startle our friend a little, and when she saw it was us, I could see something in her eyes that was disturbing: Fear.

"What the hell happened?" I asked. It was almost like I couldn't take my eyes off the corpse. There didn't seem to be a lot of blood, but it was still a grisly sight -- and yet I kept looking.

"I'm not sure," Joy answered. She still seemed dazed by the discovery. The bar was completely deserted except for the three of us. Where was Mike? Had he found the guy after they both took off? I didn't like where that line of questioning might lead me.

"We have to call the police," Leora said immediately, and Joy nodded. While Leora went to the phone, Joy pulled me aside.

"I think Calhoun is sending me a message, Toni."

"Who is Calhoun?" I asked, more impatiently than I meant to.

"He owns the other strip joint in town -- Rosy Bottoms. Talk about degrading names. A few weeks ago he came and offered to buy my club from me. I told him I wasn't interested. Things started happening. Little technical failures that could easily have been written off as 'accidents', except nothing had ever happened like that until I refused to sell to Calhoun. I think he might have ties to the mob."

"Holy-- Joy, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"I don't know. Mike said he knew how to handle guys like Calhoun, and he was supposed to handle it."

"Obviously he didn't," I said, pointing to the body on the stage. "Just where is this miracle worker of yours, anyway?"

Joy shrugged. "I haven't seen him since he went after our guest here." She sighed heavily and didn't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys before. I thought I could take care of it myself. Or if I couldn't, I didn't want you guys to be put in danger because of me."

"We'll help you," I said before she could ask. "I'll call Willow as soon as Leora's off the phone."

Now she did look at me, and a tear dangled from her eye, stubbornly clinging to it as if afraid to fall. "Thank you, Toni."

Leora called from behind the bar, "Police are on their way! You might want to put out a sign saying you're closed for the day."

Joy nodded and retreated to her office as I made my way over to the telephone to call Willow.

After the police had carted off the body, the four of us sat together at a table. The silence was thick in the air around us, and its heaviness pressed down on me. Never before, at least in my memory, had we been together and not known what to say. Joy, usually the exuberant and talkative one, stared at the table, her face pale and drawn. I shared a look with Leora, wondering what I should say, but it was Willow who spoke first.

"Tell us more about this Calhoun." She had at least been briefed with my phone call.

Joy shrugged, a look of defeat like I hadn't seen since her miscarriage on her face. "There's not much more to tell. I think these 'accidents' are threats to make me sell out. If he's going to start killing people, I have no choice."

Willow shook her head. "Unacceptable."

"Unacceptable?" Leora said incredulously. "Someone's been murdered!"

"You want Joy to bow down before that bullying?"

"Better bowing down than dead."

I didn't know what to think. Joy had worked hard to make her club a success. It was the most important thing in the world to her. I didn't know what she would do without it, but I also knew that I didn't want one of my best friends dead because of bull headedness.

The other three looked at me, as I knew they would. For some reason, though Willow was the voice of brutal reason, Leora was the voice of sensible empathy, and Joy was the voice of wild unpredictability, I was always the decision maker. I guess there had to be one in a friendships with that many varying personalities.

"Joy," I asked, "What do you want to do?"