Cat In An Alien X-Ray

“It was a sweet setup,” Aldo says despite his sister-in-law’s small frown at that description. “You won’t even feel a good pickpocket taking the gold fillings from your molars, much less anything dangling out there on your limbs or lobes.”

“I could not believe,” Miss Temple says, “how much jewelry they had slipped into the bags beneath the bride’s skirts. A Rolex, even.”

Miss Van von Rhine winces.

“Two things going on there to make this crooked gig work,” Nicky said. “People will forget about living statues once they figure out what they are. Or, they come close and try to make them break character in front of them. Either way, they are distracted, and a small move from, say, the groom will not be obvious while you are trying to stare down the bride through her veil.”

“I am sure,” Miss Temple says, “the police will discover this pair, or even the booking agency, has been ripping off clients and their guests for quite a while. I knew Midnight Louie had not lost his marbles.”

She strokes me fondly on the head. Nice, but not while I am drinking.

I look up, glad to see everyone now smiling down at me like I was the genius crime-fighter I know myself to be.

It is a bit disappointing that my swift action did not unmask a psycho bride, but you cannot have everything.

Chapter 22

A Fine and Secret Show

“The police anticipate murderers coming back to the scene of the crime,” Temple told Silas T. Farnum as she looked from the deep, dark starless Las Vegas night to the lukewarm security lights dotting his shrouded building in a pattern resembling the Big Dipper.

“Is that why you’re whispering in this huge deserted lot at midnight?” he asked. He was now accoutered with a handsome silver-headed cane, like a circus ringmaster.

Why had she come running back to the Paradise site at his excited call? Maybe she needed her mind taken off her personal woes.

She and Matt had so little time together lately, and after what should have been a romantic evening out too. When they’d gotten back to the Circle Ritz, she used the elevator ride to woo him from his mysterious overtime sessions at the radio station with the promise of a steamy rendezvous at the usual 3 A.M. He’d gotten off on her floor, but put her off with excuses again. When she persisted, he’d suggested that maybe she should call on Max for that, since she was so eager to rescue him from a Kathleen O’Connor who wasn’t even in the room, and rushed up the stairs to his unit.

Talk about feeling drop-kicked all the way to Santa Monica! She wanted to be mad, but just felt sad. So, when Silas T.’s unfailingly cheerful voice chirped from her cell phone, she came running.

She gazed around the construction site, which reminded her of the remnants of the Forum in Rome, more in a state of fallen down than going up. Farnum at the Forum. It was not an enticing bill to envision on a marquee.

“Don’t worry,” Silas T. said, having read her mind. “I’ve had very discreet security … forces on duty here all along. The cops didn’t detect them when they were swarming all over the place around the dead body, and they won’t detect them now.”

“Security forces? That sounds sinister, Mr. Farnum.”

“If you have a secret site, you need to safeguard it, Miss Barr.”