Cat In An Aqua Storm

Cat in an Alphabet Soup...Cat in an Aqua Storm... Cat on a Blue Monday... Cat in a Crimson Haze... Cat in a Diamond Dazzle... Cat with an Emerald Eye... Cat in a Flamingo Fedora... Cat in a Golden Garland... Cat on a Hyacinth Hunt... Cat in an Indigo Mood... Cat in a Jeweled Jumpsuit... Cat in a Kiwi Con... Cat in a Leopard Spot... Cat in a Midnight Choir... Cat in a Neon Nightmare... Cat in an Orange Twist... Cat in a Hot Pink Pursuit... Cat in a Quicksilver Caper... Cat in a Red Hot Rage... Cat in a Sapphire Slipper... Cat in a Topaz Tango... Cat in an Ultramarine Scheme... Cat in a Vegas Gold Vendetta... Cat in a White Tie and Tails... Cat in an Alien X-Ray... Cat in a Yellow Spotlight... Cat in a Zebra Zoot Suit

CAT IN AN AQUA STORM

(formerly titled Pussyfoot)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Since Midnight Louie’s mystery adventures began in 1992, the soon-to-be 27-book series in a retro-modern saga that portrays twenty-five years of amazing Las Vegas Strip reinvention from the early 1990s to today. Yet, the foreground story only covers a couple of years in the characters’ lives. Think of the vintage movies that filmed a couple walking on a treadmill against a constantly changing background.

So be warned: you will see “dead people” in the pop culture references, and also see how the Las Vegas Strip, cell phones and recent technologies evolved as they happened. And even the irreverent rascal, Midnight Louie, will become politically correct in one key department.

Previously in Midnight Louie’s

Lives and Times

The Life That Late He Led

Even the darkest day begins with a dawn.

This one starts with me lounging on the second-story patio of my pied-à-terre as the sun rises over Muddy Mountain. Clouds shift against the distant peaks like Sally Rand’s famous ostrich fans teasing the notorious, apparently naked foothills of her form.

Fading shades of pink and blue reveal the sun’s naked red eye opening to scorch the already-browned sands. Good old Sol has been up all night, just like the folks on the Las Vegas Strip, only he did his usual disappearing act while smiling on the other side of the world. Smart fellow.

It is early July, and soon the sands will be hotter than a sizzling lucky streak on a craps table. I allow my eastward-gazing mind to picture Lake Mead as a bright London-blue topaz in its dusty desert setting. Hundreds of carp glitter like sunken gold along the shoreline, carp a-pant for the daily influx of tidbit-bearing tourists. I have never seen this treasure hoard of panhandling carp in person, but I hear plenty about them. I share the tourists’ fondness for carp, although my tastes run more to feeding on than feeding to.