Cat In A White Tie And Tails

Into the continued silence she had to commit truth. “The club room held a middle-aged woman who looked like a medium, or Gandolph in the guise of a female medium at that Halloween séance. The other woman looked like Morticia, the slinky Goth wife from The Addams Family. And there was a pretty ordinary guy there. They were upset about Cosimo Sparks’s death, and then another spring-loaded door opened and these two … figures … showed up.”

“Figures?” Matt questioned.

Temple decided then and there to leave out the pack of black cats that closed down the private party minutes later, but she was now committed to describing the figures.

“They were disguised. In black. Head to toe.”

“Head to toe?” Max snorted. “Were they wearing blackface?”

“Gloves and long cloaks with hoods.”

“Old magicians’ tricks to blend in with the background,” Max said. “Houdini used it.”

“That’s not all. Full head masks. I thought of them as the Darth Vaders.”

“Now, that’s an elaborate getup,” Matt said. “Hokey, though. Are you sure that’s what you saw, Temple?”

“It was dark, but I’d entered through a sheltered niche between bookcases and it was like being an audience at a peepshow.” She took measure of the two men’s dubious expressions. “Not that kind of peepshow. Let’s just say it was a gathering of dramatic personalities. The Darth Vaders were clearly the stars. They had guns and they wanted money.”

“Temple!” Matt was shocked. “You put yourself at risk in the middle of some kind of heist? People who rip off casinos go for the extreme disguises, don’t they, Kinsella?”

Max looked quizzical. “You’re relying on my memory? Fortunately, it’s the personal history that’s mostly gone missing. Yeah. Because of the intense visual security and scrutiny in casinos, people who knock over cash transfers at money cages wear masks at least. They’re safe physically.”

Temple wasn’t so sure. “They always get caught.”

“But they are never interfered with as long as they’re armed and dangerous and out on the casino floor among hundreds of clients and players,” Max said. “Hotel security and police want zero collateral damage.”

“So,” Temple said, “you can get out with the money, but your chances of keeping it are—”

“Zero,” Max said.

“What about the plans I overheard, for the Synth magicians to create a multi-Strip free-for-all distraction of illusions to cover a major heist?”

“Again,” Max said. “Great idea. Would work for getting the money. As in every robbery from a modest ATM stick-up to a major planned assault on a Strip casino or Fort Knox, for that matter, the real trick is the disappearing act afterwards.”

Temple nodded. “That’s why the Glory Hole Gang hid out for decades when Jersey Joe Jackson absconded with the train robbery money.”

“Jersey Joe,” Matt reminded her, “got away with the money and cheating his buddies, but he had to hide the ill-gotten goods for so long, he died bankrupt and alone.”

“So this IRA money raised over a couple decades could simply be left hidden forever?” Temple asked.

Max sighed. “The Synth members are pawns. From what you said, they were in it for the revenge and the prestige, in the sense of the payoff in a magical illusionary statement, when jaws drop. So how did you and they escape being mowed down by two Darth Vaders?”

“Jesus,” Matt said prayerfully.

Temple shrugged. “I … just bowed out. They sorta noticed me finally—”

“‘Sorta’?” Matt sounded pre-cardiac.

“And I just said I was looking for a ladies’ room and they were really hard to find here and I wouldn’t be back. Stephanie Plum always gets out of pickles with girly candor.”

“Stephanie who?” Matt demanded, exasperated.

“The book series,” Temple said. “Chick lit mystery.”

Max chuckled. “She must mean Nancy Drew rebooted. You do know who that was?”

Matt shook his head, mystified.

“How do you know about Nancy Drew?” Temple asked Max.

“I don’t know.” He blinked. “I had a younger girl cousin, I guess, in Wisconsin.” His contribution ended in one of his memory-exploring silences.

“I know all about ‘younger girl cousins,’” Temple said, eyeing Matt.

He opted for silence too.

It was all just too nicey-nicey, Temple thought. Everybody was so busy not stomping on everybody’s else’s toes—or previous and current relationships—that any honest analysis was impossible.

If they couldn’t work together, they darn well might hang separately.

“You can see why I’d never mention this Neon Nightmare stuff to Molina,” Temple said into the extending silences. “I’m even sorry I discussed it with you guys. We need to divvy up the cold cases and investigate on our own.”

“How do we ‘divvy up’ this imposing table of multiple murders and possible perps?” Max asked.

“Mathmatically,” Temple said, then quipped, “MaxiMattically.”

Both guys shot more bolt upright at the idea being equated in her investigative formula. Good. Their competitive natures were kicking in after this very refined and very boring Likefest.

“And some say girls can’t do left brain,” Temple finished up.