Cat in a Jeweled Jumpsuit

“Elvis would do that kind of thing," he added. "Call up a girl and sing an appropriate lyric to her by way of greeting."

“Elvis is dead, so even if he did that, I certainly don't want to be awakened thinking I'm either past the pearly gates myself, or being treated to a tabloid newspaper incident."

“Yes, Miss Temple," the contrite Elvis said, asking her to meet them at the Kingdome ASAP. That's how he said it: ASAP with a long A. Not the full form: As Soon As Possible.

Now her personal guard of Elvi were assembled in the dressing-room hallway in all their glitter and glory. "So what's the news?" she asked.

“Well, we managed to linger in the area of the, ah, dig, remaining inconspicuous.”

Temple eyed them en masse, Rainbow Elvis. She had to admit that in the Kingdome, this was indeed a subtle and soft-spoken disguise: Max's maxim that overdressed is the best camouflage in Las Vegas proved true once again.

“And we were able to see the ... victim disinterred," Oversized Elvis added delicately.

“Don't tell me! It was Elvis, as fresh as the day he was put to rest."

“We can't tell you that, Miss Temple," Fifties Elvis rebuked her. "It wasn't even a person."

“The suit was empty?"

“Yup."

“You're sure them bones, them bones, them dry bones weren't paper towels?"

“Absolutely. That suit was as flat as a long-playing record."

“And get this!" Rhinestone Lapels Elvis put in. "We saw some of the gemstones and the pattern was of, like, rays around something. Some of the dirt and moss covered the design."

“A rearing stallion?""Could be."

“Then that's the jumpsuit that was 'killed' in Quincey's dressing room? Why bury it in the Medication Garden? Listen to me! I'm beginning to go along with Elvisinsanity. Why bother to bury a jumpsuit at all?"

“Wanted to get rid of it," Fifties Elvis suggested. "Didn't do a very good job of it, did they?"

“Yeah," Cape-and-Cane Elvis said, "but how often is a chimpanzee going to go ape in the Medication Garden? I mean, the tourists weren't about to root up the herb beds like dogs, were they?"

“There's an Elvis fan who carted a toenail clipping away from the shag rug in the Jungle Room at Grace-land. Another devoteé went to a doctor who had removed a wart from Elvis very early in his career and—"

“Wait a minute." Oversized Elvis looked genuinely concerned. "The doctor or Elvis?"

“What?"

“Which one was early in his career when the wart was removed?"

“Elvis! Nobody knows where the doctor was then, or now. Or cares. So what does it matter?"

“Timing is very important in these things," Oversized Elvis/Aldo said.

“Anyway," Temple emphasized fiercely, "this other fan bought the wart from the doctor—he'd apparently kept it preserved all these years. It's now a major Elvis artifact. So does this give you any hint of what Elvis fans might try to do in the Medication Garden?"

“Yeah, but the people who buried the suit might not have known much about Elvis fans." Karate Elvis.

“Not like you, Miss Temple, who is always on top of everything." Oversized/Aldo again.

“Yeah. I was even on top of that buried suit. From what you say about its location, Electra and I—and Crawford Buchanan—were sitting right near it when the body was found in the pool.”

Temple had a sudden epiphany, which was a fancy word for insight. Maybe it was an Elvis Epiphany. She could feel her eyes narrow. Rainbow Elvis sucked in their diaphragms in preparation for action.

“Crawford Buchanan!" She could feel the clues struggling to click into place. "Has he been heard from or seen lately? Could he have buried the suit? Could he be buried up there too? Too much to hope for, but he was acting very strangely when Electra and I found the body floating in the pool. Dove right in with it. Was he trying to save . . . the suit?"

“I understand these artifacts are worth a great deal, Miss Temple," Aldo said.

Even Temple could tell he was agreeing with her wild theories simply because he was trying to be kind.

She took a few steps into Quincey's dressing room and sat down, glad that Quin was not there to see Temple flailing for answers. That girl needed a strong role model, and a confused thirty-year-old was not it.

Jumpsuit Elvis stepped forward with the air of a man about to tell a tale or two.

“We have been making some inquiries," he said gravely.

“Of whom about what?”

The brothers Fontana shook their dark-helmeted heads in awe, rendered speechless.

“Did you hear the lady?" Jumpsuit Elvis asked Karate Elvis.

“I did."

“Of whom," Jumpsuit Elvis repeated reverently. "Does anyone here doubt that this is the proper grammatical form?”

Heads shook in unity.

“Of whom." Jumpsuit Elvis regarded her with the fond wonder of Columbo catching a murderer in yet another slick but useless lie.

“Awesome," Motorcycle Elvis added.