Cat In A White Tie And Tails

She clicked on one reading CHICAGO HOODS NAILED AND JAILED and clicked the video arrow to show a slow pan of a warehouse that looked as if a Die Hard movie had been filmed there just last week.

A voice-over told the tale.

“Police alerted to gang activity zeroed in on an abandoned warehouse on the south side today, finding two long-wanted criminals bagged and snagged in a trap of crating materials studded with rusted carpenter nails, apparent victims of assault via nail-gun, something new for the mayhem crowd.

“Benny ‘the Viper’ Bennedetto and Waldo ‘the Weasel’ Walker were found unconscious and suffering from numerous ‘packaging’ wounds in a scene of chaos. Abandoned in the middle of the mess was what police describe as a ‘high-end cat carrier.’ The conclusion? These would-be mobsters must have been trying to round up rats and got caught in their own trap. Call Paris Hilton’s abused designer bag rehab center. The petty crooks come free for the taking.”

The video’s last image showed the incongruous leopard-pattern carrier sitting untouched in the middle of the scene perhaps stage-managed by Spielberg’s Industrial Waste and Wreckage spin-off company instead of Industrial Light and Magic.

Temple ID’d the artifact in tones evoking a blend of bereaved mother and indignant shopper.

“Oooh, that’s the cat carrier I got in the Treasure Island shopping mall. This accessory in the wilderness shot reminds me of my last.… actually, my first official case, which included Louie’s discovery of the marooned Boots Benson concrete-encased cowboy boots found high and dry in the drought-revealed bed of Lake Mead.”

“Imagine what your cat could find in a real lake,” Krys said. “Lake Michigan is almost the size of West Virginia. There are whole big ships down there.”

“Louie doesn’t like water in larger than drinking bowl quantities,” Temple said, quashing Krys’s plug for her hometown. “And, apparently, he really doesn’t like low-level mob functionaries.”

Louie kept his druthers to himself, maintaining his lofty sagelike position on the kitchen counter. Only the very tip of his dangling tail switched back and forth like the tuft on a lion’s terminal appendage, demonstrating that neither Viper nor Weasel had touched Hair One.

“Louie isn’t much mourning the loss of his high-class carrier,” Matt said.

“We’ll never get it back. I’ve found the police to be very high-handed about stowing irrelevant evidence in their lockers,” Temple said, musing on Molina’s unwarranted custody of Max’s promise ring, only recently returned. Maybe that was the only way Molina could get and keep one of her own.

Everyone’s intent gaze awaited the source of her assertion about police behavior. Temple was not going to back up her comment in this crowd with that example.

“But I suppose,” Temple went on quickly, “the police would not exactly welcome me calling again, anyway, asking for a personal favor. And I couldn’t bring up the carrier without … letting the cat out of the bag that my cat really was kidnapped and at the center of that whole scene. It was a one-of-a-kind accessory, though.”

“Krys,” Matt said, “would you be a doll and pick up a new carrier for Louie? Temple and I have lunch and dinner dates tomorrow and fly out first thing Tuesday.”

“Sure.” Krys sounded stunningly unenthusiastic. “Why shouldn’t I shop and schlep for the cat? I’m an artist. I have no money, but all the time in the world.”

Matt’s hand lighted on the briar rose tattoo on Krys’s right wrist. “We’d really appreciate that, and it’s in a good cause: to get the cat out of your hair and apartment.”

That was the magic touch. She melted. “He’s all right. Just the usual spotlight hog.”

Temple did not miss noticing it was much easier for Krys to accept her cat than to accept her as Matt’s fiancée.

Family matters! She and Matt were getting a double dose of it tomorrow and finishing up the day by dining with network executives.

All Temple wanted was to get her boys back from Chicago and on the trail of Cliff Effinger and a shopping list of other Las Vegas cold cases that would finally get those she loved out of clear and present danger, including Midnight Louie.

Chapter 25

Angst à la Carte

Temple appreciated one advantage of living in a city like Las Vegas with its spine of world-class hotel-casinos and shopping and entertainment. She could walk into a five-star Chicago hotel for lunch with awkward relatives or relatives-to-be—or dinner with network execs—and feel not one whit intimidated.

Minneapolis–St. Paul had been the metropolitan oasis for all the Upper Midwest states of the Dakotas, Minnesota, Iowa, and Wisconsin, but Vegas mimicked the crème de la crème of the country and the world.

She hadn’t realized that before and knew now that she owed that confidence to Vegas moguls Steve Wynn and company and … Max Kinsella.