Cat In An Alien X-Ray

“And…,” she says after a final pinprick of her claw into my shoulder just in case I am not paying enough attention. “I think the scars on this guy’s back and sides were put there by the Cat Pack I led to defend the Synth from the two armed individuals in Darth Vader outfits at the Neon Nightmare, now defunct.”

I catch my breath. What Miss Louise is calling defunct is not the Synth magicians’ club, or the invading Darth Vaders from that recent meeting I was not privileged (or invited, I guess) to participate in. No, it is only the Neon Nightmare nightclub that is closed and defunct.

Louise does not know I was there much more recently with Miss Temple and Mr. Max, when my roommate’s speculations made it clear that some of the Synth members and wannabes are, um, dead, possibly by the hand of Synth recruiter Cosimo Sparks, himself now slain by person or persons unknown.

So here I am being asked to consider that one of the two masked leaders and predators who fed on the Synth’s thirst for revenge might now be dead at the morgue, his body bearing identifying marks of the Cat Pack attack on that night when Miss Louise and her minions swarmed to protect Miss Temple and divert attention from her undetected presence.

Whew. That is a lot of dead people, but then, Miss Temple’s Table of Crime Elements is longer than a grocery list for a reality TV cooking show.

I sit back on the pillow of my most operative parts, stunned.

For months and years, I have been protecting my main gal and her associated humans against renegade magicians, IRA terrorists, possible mob remnants, and a psycho serial killer.

Now, it could be likely the secret malefactors at the top of the pyramid of crime are possibly from out of this world.

Can it be that I am dealing here with murder most extraterrestrial?

Chapter 34

Law and Order: LVMPD

“What is the Circle Ritz these days?” Molina asked him the moment Matt identified himself on the phone. “The new home of the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang?”

He was confused, maybe because he’d been mentally planning an approach to his problem.

Molina relieved him of answering that seemingly irrelevant question as her voice on the phone answered for him. “Your inventive fiancée has been showing up at bizarre sites all over town, messing up crime scenes.”

“Temple?”

“You think I’m talking about Lydia, the Tattooed Lady?”

“I’ve never met that entertaining individual, and don’t hope to,” Matt said, more confused than ever. He’d been too distracted to hear about any other crimes than the ones committed by Kathleen O’Connor.

Also, he was uneasy anyway about trying to pump Molina for information when he was secretly playing psycho cat-and-mouse with the most wanted suspect on her—and everybody’s—unofficial Wanted Lists.

“Temple’s trespassing on crime scenes? News to me.”

“The significant other is always the last to know.” Molina sounded dire. “A client of hers happens to own the crime scene property.”

Matt obviously needed to be brought up to date on his fiancée’s current events, but he wasn’t going to let a homicide lieutenant give him the first spin on what was going on.

“I just called to see if I could make an appointment to talk to you about—”

“Don’t tell me.”