Cat In A White Tie And Tails

Meanwhile, Shifty, stumbling madly to escape the “rats,” has knocked himself into a crate, spilling open beer cans and the second cigar, so his pant legs are now catching fire and his upper torso is beer-soaked.

I turn. The chaos is complete. I eye the one untouched item, an island of calm integrity, sadly. My Miss Temple was so proud of her leopard-pattern carrier. Now it is mere salvage.

The locals surround me.

“You are the dude who cried ‘sausage’? What do you want for them?”

“They are all yours, boys and girls. All I need is to be pointed toward a ride to the near northwest side.”

“You are not from around here. Which ward is your turf?”

I doubt these homeless street types have ever shared a sofa with a human, much less a Las Vegas condo. And I do know Chicago is divided into political “wards.”

“My line stems from Ma Barker of the Vegas turf.”

Sagacious whiskery nods all round.

“Yeah, but where do you reside here?” a lean and hungry yellow-stripe Tom asks.

“The Palmer House Hilton Hotel.”

Tommy shoots off his mouth. “You are not a Gold Coast Michigan Avenue swell, fella.”

I nod at the abandoned carrier. “Eye my personal transport and weep. Never mind the ride advice. I will catch my own.”

I stalk out onto the street, looking for the golden glint from a pimpmobile, preferably an Eldorado. That will get me to the nearest high-end lucrative corner for some set-upon hookers eager to help out a fellow street denizen, and then I can catch less glitzy transport. I tell you, lore has it half-right. A fur coat will always win over the ladies … especially if you are a dude in need wearing it.

Vegas teaches a cool cat more ways of the world than Chicago ever thought of.

Chapter 21

Past Tax Due

“Louie,” Temple intoned mournfully.

And stared in a daze at the checkered tablecloth.

They’d all sunk onto the kitchen table chairs as Matt had replayed the message, twice, stopping before the tail part. No one needed to hear that again.

“The airport,” Temple said. “I wasn’t mistaken for a rich witch. It wasn’t an attempted jewel robbery. They were after Louie as a hostage. It’s all my fault. I didn’t think beyond what the security guard thought.”

“Who did?” Matt’s warm hands squeezed her cold fists. “How would these creeps even know Midnight Louie was along?”

“It’s my fault,” Mira said firmly. “It’s just that I was … am … so easily bulled when it comes to Clifford. I’ve wished so much for so long he had never existed, which is a sin, I know, Matt.” Her anxious glance skittered off his concerned expression.

“It’s human, Mom. I wished the same. I was even in a position to end his existence.”

“Matt!”

“It’s not what we think. It’s what we do.”

“Cliff said he’d found you,” Mira answered, confused. “Snickered about it. That made me so angry.”

“No. I tracked him. I found him. He was a petty criminal around Vegas. And when he died, it was a lot worse than anything I could have contemplated doing.”

She put her hands to her ears. “I don’t want to hear anything more about that miserable creature. I never wanted to see him again. And when he came here—”

“He came here?”

Temple was starting to think beyond the blame game, but she didn’t dare interject anything into the mother–son dialogue.