I heard about Ned Loonbucket from the guys at the precinct, and I figured the roadies at the festival site were the next logical lead. Undercover work was definitely called for, and as is common knowledge, everything goes better under covers when one has a partner, so I picked up the phone and called Billy's.
"Billy's Keg'n'Cork.." her voice barked in my ear
"Lucky Day, fair shamrock..." I spoke in my best-guy-on-the-planet voice
"Oh gawd, what do you want now, Madison?" she broke in, "I just got finished dealing with the cops and mopping up the last of that folkie, I'm really not in the mood for this.."
I could tell at this point she trusted me about as far as she could fling Billy's BlackVelvet Elvis portrait, which according to eye-witnesses on 'BlueHawaii' night at the tavern, was roughly half a city block...

"Well," I stumbled on "In the oft-touted tradition of truly fine stake-outs and reconnaissance work, I was wondering if you would do me the honour of accompanying me this evening..."
"Give me a break." she interrupted again "It's no small wonder you can't get any dates." There was a brief pause, filled with AT&T's very best static, before I heard her grin across the wires and say, "I'll come by your place about 8, okay?"

Needless to say, 7:59 found me frantically shoving things into closets, kicking various other 'things without homes' under my couch, and generally cursing myself for not getting a maid. When the knock came at the door, I waited to the count of five before opening it, then cursed myself again for not using the peephole. At least that would have prepared my for the sight of Lucky Day in short pants. She walked past, surveying the apartment with a keen eye, then turned to face me.
"You're wearing that?" she pointed to my current folk-like evening ensemble "Why don't you just wear a trench-coat and a fedora? Or better yet, have Billy make you a t-shirt that says "Pay No Attention to the Detective". You want to swing with those roadies, at least put on a pair of jeans or something..."
I excused myself, hoping the jeans weren't on the bottom of the pile in the closet as we discussed the plan of action through the bedroom door. I returned in what, I hoped, was festival attire. Apparently it suited Lucky because she gave a low wolf-whistle as she walked behind me down the stairs, and we made our way to the fairgrounds.