Кэрол Дуглас - Cat In An Alphabet Endgame

Matt shut his eyes. “I could kick myself into next week. I had my cell phone turned off. After a dozen weird call-ins tonight, I didn’t want to hear another disembodied voice, not even phone spam. I never dreamed you’d call. You make a point of not doing it.”

“I never dreamed I’d have to. I know you need your cool-down drive-time coming home.”

He felt a reflexive pang. Temple knew from living with a magician who had done two evening shows that night gigs were hard to come down from.

Matt pushed away the past. “Electra is under suspicion of something again? How many crimes can an over-seventy grandmother commit in a month or two?”

“Ernesto said residents heard shots, Matt. It has to be self-defense, but that shady attempt to rob Electra of her ex-husband’s property is a closed case. I can’t see what anybody would gain by continuing to harass her at her own home and an established property like the Circle Ritz.”

“Well, those ‘shady characters’ trying to cheat her out of a building that held a valuable gambling license likely had mob ties.”

“But there’s nothing left of the mob except for a certain sleazy entertainment value.”

“I don’t know about that,” Matt said fervently. “And speaking of which, wasn’t there a Fontana brother or two sleeping gratis on the property after the damage last month?”

“Fontana brothers don’t come home until three in the morning. They have their hotel and custom limo service to run, as well as lady friends to entertain.”

“And what about our missing landlady?” Matt fretted. “She’s in the slammer overnight. That’s outrageous, Temple.”

“There’s nothing anybody can do before morning. Which is coming fast. The bros are getting their lawyer up right now. And you were tired from counseling lost Las Vegas souls,” she added. “I wanted to get you tucked into bed first.”

She led him into the bedroom and patted the new high-thread-count sheets, invitingly turned back. “Get undressed and make tracks for some exciting catch-up sleeping before we go to bail Electra out in a few hours.”

It didn’t take long for him to do as she suggested and forget the undercover work he was hiding from her for the undercover coziness of lying with heads propped up on pillows and the night’s events to discuss. The events at the Circle Ritz, not those at WCOO. Electra’s home invasion had kept Temple from getting an impulse to tune in and hear “Elvis” on the air again. And Woody’s crude threats. Matt was relieved.

“At least I’m sleeping at your place now,” Matt said, “so I know you ’re not the person who took a fatal dive off the balcony.”

“I do think you should visit Metro Police headquarters first thing and charm the details from Molina. She’s getting tired of my smiling, mug-shot-ready face.”

“At least that gives me an assignment that will explain why our elderly landlady is Suspect of the Week with the LVMPD.”

Matt sat up against the upholstered headboard, worried as he had been lately, but tucked in and ready to talk. Temple laid her cheek on his bare shoulder to snuggle. She was more upset about the recent hullaballoo than she’d let him see.

Matt glanced at the soft white globe of a modern nightstand lamp. “I like what you’ve done with the place lately.”

“Thanks.” Temple smiled. She’d been slowly redoing the room, from the upholstered headboard to the bedside lamps on dimmers, changing it over from everything “Max”.

“And…” Temple furrowed her smooth brow for the first time, “Louie is not napping in tonight. He so loves to growl and glower when you come home to bed and evict him. I’m a bit worried.”

“So you think my presence has added to your cat’s domestic drama? That’s a PR woman for you, putting an optimistic spin on a man-cat duel over her. Which one is going to the mat? Spelled with a small ‘m’ and one ‘t’.”

“Not the man. Louie will have to adapt and sleep in his zebra-print carrier if he’s miffed.”

Matt found that a cue to sweep her into his arms.

“So where do you think His Majesty is?” Matt frowned at the vacant foot of the zebra-pattern coverlet.

There were two things Temple couldn’t change. Midnight Louie’s droit de seignior claim to the bed and especially that coverlet he loved to sprawl on so artistically. Cats’ color vision was shaky on the reds, but every one of them infallibly chose the most flattering color background for sitting and reclining on. Zebra-stripe with crimson piping made Louie a handsome pin-up boy.

“Yes, that is odd. Louie disappeared after the squad cars came. He hasn’t been that spooked before,” Temple said.

“Spooked? Louie?” Matt laughed. “Pigs would fly first and he’d probably soon have them hitched to a cat sleigh in the sky. Or maybe his own private passenger drone.”

“I’m so glad you’ve come to terms with cattitude. Seriously, I’m thinking of putting a rather expensive but cool zebra-stripe cat bed near the television chest.”

“Temple, he’ll never use it any more than he will the zebra-stripe carrier you bought him. Face it. We’ll have to take this coverlet to Chicago, but maybe ship him by stork.”

“Chicago? Really, Matt?” She sat up, accidentally knocking her Elle Decor magazine off the nightstand. “You’ve seemed so torn about that move lately.”

“I am torn. My memories of Chicago aren’t the greatest. You know the family situation is even more awkward now. And I don’t like keeping things from people I care for. It’s a strain on me, and my mother, knowing I’m her new husband’s brother’s secret son. You can’t even say that without wondering where to the put the apostrophes. And then, me being the celebrity in the family.” Matt shook his head.

“Hey, Matt. That’s a classic part of the celebrity backstory. Family secrets. You come with yours built-in. And forgotten decades ago. Besides, you wouldn’t be committed forever. Those contracts are short, especially for a new project.”

“Sure, remind me I’m on trial approval.”

“Not with me.” Temple’s warm palm on his forearm, the warmth in her gray-blue eyes…he drowned in a wave of love followed by a strong current of nasty undertow. He had to keep secrets here, in Vegas, too. Even more so now that the violent death tonight echoed the break-in on Temple here a couple weeks ago.

Damn Effinger, Matt thought. Not letting him die and rot was the worst mistake he’d ever made. And now he really couldn’t let it go, until he’d proved to himself that Temple wasn’t the target all along. Her and maybe the ingenious map she’d made of an elaborate scheme written in the stars and somehow living long after him.

“Lighten up.” Temple was leaning in to kiss his cheek. “All these choices we have to make are good. I’m okay with Chicago too.”

“Practically speaking,” he said. “I don’t know what you’d do there career-wise. Or how Louie’d take to high-rise life. I suppose the À La Cat food ad sequence can be filmed anywhere. You’re from Minnesota, so you know the winter snow up that way can make Antarctica seem a breeze. And…doing something in the daytime that’s more interactive is sounding pretty attractive.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm. I’m glad we talked about this, Matt! I didn’t want to push you, but we need to make plans. Now that Evil Kitty is out of the picture we can finally commit to our dreams and lives.”

“If Evil Kitty didn’t come back to push that man you saw taken away off the balcony. That’d be more likely than Electra doing it.”

Temple sat up. “Don’t even think that! But that reminds me of something else we need to clear up after you go first thing in the morning to spring Electra.”