Cat In A Sapphire Slipper

“Cards?” one woman jeered. “If the guys knew we had cards in the house they’d hole up with them and start gambling. We want their concentration, and their money, on us.”

“Is that why the Sapphire Slipper is so far out on the desert?” Temple asked.

“To keep the men captive?”

“Sure,” answered Miss Kitty, rising and moving among the courtesans. “Pretty and pleasing as my girls are, gambling is a more magnetic vice. It’s hard to lure big spenders away from the tables. That’s why I keep a cigar bar stocked with world-class spirits, and why my cook can whip up big game dishes as well as cow and crawfish. And, of course, my girls are the best in the state at their specialties.”

“Do you often rent the whole house to special parties?”

“Sure. Conventioneers. PACs.”

“Political Action Committees?” Temple couldn’t help sounding shocked.

Miss Kitty’s plump features folded into a complacent smile.

“We put the Action in PACs.”

“So nothing about this booking set off any red flags?”

“Only the green flags of moolah. The girls enjoy a big party. There are group scenes. Some customers request special, high-dollar attention.”

“Would you say you and your staff were disappointed when you discovered this was a kidnapping party?”

“Hell, no. Surprised at first, sure. But then we eyed the ‘victims’ and thought this would be a laugh riot. My girls are ready to do vixens-in-charge any time.”

“And it didn’t bother you that the men were captives?”

“Pretty willing captives, once everything became clear.” Miss Kitty leaned against a floral-upholstered easy chair. “I’m going to set out some sodas and chips in the kitchen. The girls are used to a bedtime snack about now. They burn a lot of energy before the wee hours. As for what goes on here, Miss Barr, we aim to please our customers, and I’ve never known a man to object to some sexy teasing.”

Matt would have, Temple knew, but he wasn’t caught in the same net as the Fontana brothers. As for the brothers, once they recognized their girlfriends, they would have gone along with the mock-kidnapping. They would know that sampling the house goods was only a tease. The whole idea was to claim the brothers, once and for all.

All for once, and once for all. Like the Three Musketeers’ “all for one and one for all.”

It was just a bit of nonsense and fun, until the dead girl had landed in their midst.

Temple punched up the photos on Nicky’s cell phone.

“Look. I’m going to send these pics around again. One of you might recognize the girl in them on a second round. Nobody else has a clue.”

Game Boys idled in laps. Whitened teeth bit into reddened and plumped-up lips. The phone passed from woman to woman, each one expertly clicking through the three photos Nicky had taken, then shrugging and shaking her head. The screen was small and the quality was iffy.

The dead girl was not a game.

Babette handed the phone back to Temple when the circle had been completed. “Can’t say I recognize her. She could be a Fontana girlfriend.”

“They’re all accounted for.”

More shrugs. Game Boys were in play again on several laps.

“Listen,” Temple said, annoyed by the indifference. “Something is fishy here and I want answers. I’ll be a lot easier to deal with than the police. I bet they like to rake hookers over the coals.”

“We are legal,” Angela said.

“We are courtesans, not hookers.”

“We don’t lure men, they come looking for us. We are a cut above.”

“Then if you’re a cut above, why can’t you spell?” Temple asked, cuttingly.

“Huh? Who says we can’t?”

“Well, you don’t know your alphabet.”

“ABCs? We know a lot more than that.”

“Then why are E and M missing from your roster?”

“E is a sucky letter for glamorous names. I mean, Emily, Eleanor, Evelyn, Edith. Sound like freaking dead schoolteachers. That’s not the kind of school we teach.”

“And M?” Temple pointed out. “Surely M is promising. Mitzi, Muffin, Mimi . . . I guess you may be a cut above but you’re not very creative thinkers. Might that carry through into the bedroom?”

She had them riled and spitting. Playing Bad Cop was fun. No wonder Molina did it. They protested in a blizzard of comments.

“Hey, that’s not fair!”

“You don’t know nothin’ about us.”

“That M is taken. Reserved. We can’t use it.”

Finally. An interesting response.

“Why?” Temple shot back.

The sudden silence said a lot. Kohled eyes consulted kohled eyes. A communal sigh and continued, now sullen, silence.

“What name is the M for?” Temple goaded. “What’s the matter? Can’t you spell it?”

“It is an odd spelling,” Inez said quietly. “But then, she’s an odd girl.”

“Miss Fritzi Ritzi House Favorite, you mean,” Lili said.

“She has a shtick,” Zazu added.

“What is the name?” Temple asked again.

“Madonnah. M-a-d-o double n-a-h.” Zazu again. She didn’t seem to have issues with the missing girl.

It took Temple a second to visualize the spelling. “Like the rock star, only different.”

“She has a Madonna shtick,” Niki said. “Always changing her hair color and style, her nails, her makeup. Even her own mother couldn’t keep up with recognizing her.”