Cat In A Topaz Tango

Next I push my schnozz into the late-arriving Smith purse. This is a scarlet patent leather hobo bag, within which I pick up the scent of a woman: peppermint—achoo!—candies from restaurants. Aha! A careful woman. Burt’s Bees lip balm, which indicates a nervous woman; and . . . aha! . . . a not tightly capped can of pepper spray!

Granted it is not unusual for women to carry such self-defense items in their purses, but the scent is dead-on exact to the smell inside Sou-Sou Smith’s dainty little Mary Jane dancing shoes.

Should I sound the alarm on Mama Smith?

If I can so easily find this incriminating item in her purse so could anyone who hangs out in the junior suite. In addition, these tween girls all carry fashionable little purses, except for Mariah, who totes one of those sensible, small oblong wallets.

I see I have a long night of purse snatching, unlatching, and searching ahead of me while others eat, drink, and make merry.

After many wearying attempts to break unnoticed into everything that could be construed as a purse, including a Hello Kitty one that belongs to EK, I return to the scarlet Smith one. It is large enough and an excellent color. I curl up on it and pretend to sleep so well that I actually do.

The next thing I know, I am being shaken awake by my dear little doll. I remain limp and “sleepy.”

“Louie! We have to leave. Come on.”

She bends to heave me up. I have cleverly stuck my paw into the ajar frame and as she pulls me up the purse opens wide, like for a dentist. Oh, look what the purse fairy has left! A nice big can of pepper spray.

Of course my brilliant associate immediately gets the message. She looks over her shoulder at Yvonne Smith, who is busy yakking with Mrs. Peters. She reaches for the spray, hesitates, and appropriately purses her lips.

I can guess what she will do: alert those who need to know that Sou-Sou’s mother probably sprayed her own daughter’s dancing shoes to up the sympathy vote. It can’t be proven and I doubt Miss Temple would blow the whistle unless Sou-Sou wins.

“What a good boy, Louie,” she tells me as she lifts me up to her face for a mushy cuddle. “You always get into mischief in just the right way.”

That is ever the lot of the undercover operative, and he is glad to be of service even if he does not get full credit.

Especially if he can also snatch one last slice of free-range pepperoni after he is put down and before he leaves the scene of investigation.

Red Hot Chili Peppers

“Capsaicin in her shoes? That’s red pepper, isn’t it?”

Temple pretended to be stunned by this news, despite relaxing with a glass of sangria in Zoe Chloe’s suite. Rafi had used his position as assistant security chief to order up a pitcher.

Molina, looking more in the mood for a whiskey sour, had even permitted him to pour her a glass.

“It was a prank!” Temple didn’t so much ask, as exclaim. She couldn’t pin the prank on Mrs. Smith for sure, despite Louie’s valiant detecting efforts. Lots of women carry pepper spray.

“A nastily effective prank,” Molina said. “The hotel doctor said the girl’s feet are swollen and tender, but guarantees they’ll be normal by morning.”

“What’s the treatment?” Rafi asked.

“Think you’ll have another case of capsaicin poisoning at the Oasis soon?” Molina jeered.

“I can ask the doctor.”

Molina swallowed the sangria as if it were hemlock. “Don’t bother. I got the routine. They try shampoo or other soaps first, then oils or creams. This was an extreme enough case that he ordered milk-soaked rags from room service, as well as ice to relieve the burning symptoms. Poor little kid was severely unnerved and in real pain.

“Still, I think what hurt her most was that her dance number was ruined.”

“They’ll let her repeat it another night,” Temple said. “Mariah thought so, anyway. If she recovered.”

“The Smith girl is moving to another hotel room with her mother. Now that we know how competitive they are, not a bad idea. I wish Mariah hadn’t ever bunked with those other girls.” Molina eyed Rafi as if the show rules were his fault.

“I pulled in more female security guards from off duty,” he said. “One will be in the hotel suite with the two remaining mothers and daughters at all times. And the costumes are now under guard.”

“Mariah said,” Temple put in, “that Sou-Sou was ‘a little bitch.’ ”

“She didn’t learn that word at home,” Molina assured, bristling.

“This smacks of a malicious trick,” Rafi said. His dark eyes seemed ringed in charcoal. It wasn’t just his daughter’s safety involved, it was his ex sitting here on his recently acquired turf, judging every move he made. Or didn’t make.

So far, he’d maintained his cool better than she had.

“How does this tie in with the death threats?” Molina mused out loud. “With the seriously homicidal kooks the Caped Conjuror always attracts? With the threat of the Barbie Doll Killer? With the tension and jealousy of the adult competition?”

“I don’t know,” Temple said. “It could be the junior rivalry is hotter than the senior.”