Cat In A White Tie And Tails

“They do not scream as good as they used to.”

“That is because they are ‘liberated.’ Anyway, Effie gave them nothin’ and then had the bad taste to croak. After-hours at a major Strip attraction, no less. The thinking in Vegas is he left the key to the stash up here with the ex-wife. Well, not ex-wife. Widow. Some folks still do not believe in divorce.”

“Chicago is a very backward place, compared to Vegas.”

“Right. The thinking in Vegas is Cliff’s priest stepson going there to look him up gave the rat religion and he went to Chicago to leave the wife he left a pot of gold. Or the secret to finding it.”

“Who went to Chicago? Cliff or the priest stepson?”

“It is the ex-priest stepson.”

“The blond guy with the redhead?”

“Right.”

“He did not dress much like a priest.”

“None of them do these days. It is a marketing thing. Jeesh.”

“I do not know if I want to mess with priests. They can call down all sorts of trouble on you. I have never had one tackle me so hard like he did in the airport over this sissy cat carrier.”

“Ex-priest, otherwise he would not be traveling with the redhead. Forget him. We have the carrier. We have the pussycat in it. We have the hostage. The thinking in Vegas now is we can shake up Cliff’s Chicago connections, and get what he hid up here.”

“Who is doing all this thinking in Vegas?” Lefty asks.

“The answer to that is above our pay grade.”

“We have a pay grade?”

“No! It is just an expression. Now forget about who is behind this. Knowing that will get you a ride on a sinking ship. Do you want some easy dough?” Shifty eyes my carrier. “Who is gonna stop us now. Animal control?”

The mutual yuks echo off the concrete ceiling twenty feet above.

Lefty nods, finally appeased. “The Congressional crooks in Washington are eating into my Medicare coverage. I have a lot of work-related injuries. They are killing the middling class. Let us do it.”

“So,” says Shifty, “I will leave a message on the phone. Gawd, these little lit-up buttons do not always depress. It is depressin’.” His dexterity on a smartphone keypad is like watching King Kong tap dancing on a piano keyboard.

“You do not have the victim’s number on speed dial?” Lefty asks.

“These busted fingers cannot punch in all those little keys.” Shifty (who cannot shift, it seems) grunts. “Hmm. No answer. They are still out. Good. I will leave a message to make them squirm.”

He takes a deep breath, then coughs. Cigars will do that to you.