Кэрол Дуглас - Cat In An Alien X-Ray

“I should ‘mingle,’ as you say. I would love to stay and continue our collegial discussion, Mr. Devine, but Van wanted me to meet all her friends. Je reviens. ”

With a salute of her champagne flute, Temple noted sourly, Revienne and her scarf wafted elsewhere.

“One wonders,” Matt said, watching her amble away as delicately as a fawn through the gathered people.

“That she had an eating disorder early on?”

His gaze narrowed just short of a frown. “Not that. It was someone close to her, all right, but not Revienne.”

“What did you wonder, then?”

“What her real purpose in being here is. We sure didn’t hear it.”

“It seems plain enough. Her old teacher is here. She’s visiting him on the way to her charity gigs in L.A.”

Matt shook his head. “She’s really interested in us.”

“You maybe. C’est vrais. A man-eater!”

That made Matt laugh. “I’ve never seen your jealous gene acting up. Well, a little about my cousin Krys in Chicago.”

“You are dealing with a hot-tempered redhead, fellow. Don’t forget that.”

“Speaking of hot-tempered redheads…” Matt nodded to Kit, who was talking to … Max at the bar.

“He’s not the enemy,” Temple said. “We do have to consult with him on various and sundry remaining mysteries and deaths, not to mention our Kitty the Cutter problem, but— Look! Kit is moving off alone. I’m going to plumb her brain on what’s going on with Max attending this Crystal Phoenix party.”

“Always the intrepid reporter. Meanwhile, I’ll ask Aldo for tips on being married to someone from your family.”

“Thanks for keeping him busy while I corner Kit,” Temple said as her heels rapped a rapid drumbeat over the marble floors. “Kit!” She grabbed her aunt’s arm just before she was about to join a group of Fontana brothers. She also snagged a passing waiter and scored champagne flutes for two. “Can you give me any idea of why my ex has been invited to a Crystal Phoenix party?”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” Kit sipped before answering further, and Temple could have shaken her.

“What bad news?”

“For one, Max is Revienne’s guest.”

“He better watch out. She is one slinky slippery sister.”

“Granted.”

“Who told you that?”

“Aldo. He’s putty in my hands.”

“Please, I don’t want to hear about any honeymoon disappointments.”

“Dream on,” Kit said, sipping once more.

“What did you learn from Max?”

“That he really doesn’t remember a lot.”

“He forgot you?”

“Yes, but he detected a resemblance and led me into talking about you and then me and my Manhattan career as an actress and then a romance writer and then as your madcap maiden aunt and your Christmas visit to my Manhattan digs.”

“No! That was our big reunion after he came back from disappearing for my own safety and leaving me deserted in Las Vegas. I don’t want him remembering anything … intimate about us. Just by talking to him, you turned his wandering memory in my direction.”

“Relax. I did fill him in on his impulsive trip to my Manhattan place. The man knows you two were an item, whether he remembers specifics or not. He did remember Midnight Louie being there, but not you. He says.”

“What a relief! Once again Midnight Louie comes in handy even when he isn’t around, like here.”

Kit sipped more champagne, fast.

“Going somewhere?” Temple asked.

“Preparing to duck and cover.”

“What else is new? Kit. Tell me!”

“Nicky Fontana was talking with Max.”

“I didn’t notice, but I’m sure Van has filled her husband in on the fact that I’m with Matt Devine now, and Max Kinsella is firmly in my past.”

“Maybe. But Nicky wants Max to work up a magic show for the Crystal Phoenix.”

“He can’t.” Temple was stunned.

“Who can’t what? Nicky can’t commission Max to do a magic show?”

“Sure, Nicky can do that, but Max. His memory. How can he remember all his old illusions?”

“I’m sure he’s got new illusions up his sleeve,” Kit said dryly. “We all do. I can tell you, as an actress, that Max is very, very good at covering up his memory deficit. Don’t you want him to recover and get back to work again?”

“Sure, but not at the Phoenix, my account.” Temple searched the busy lounge area until she saw Matt chatting with a tall man distinguished by a poll of ice white hair. “It’s such a good thing Matt has a hot job waiting in Chicago.”

“We’ll all miss you,” Kit said, her lips turning down into a mime’s moue. Even when she made a sad face, she was charming. “I hope you two can commute to see us here. People live in the same city as their exes all over the world, and it’s not the end of it.”

“No, but—” But Max is making it so obvious that he is back on the Vegas scene. Does he want to draw the attention of Kitty the Cutter?

Temple started thinking about Max’s almost-lifelong enemy, studying the cocktail waitresses, the female guests, looking for Kathleen O’Connor in another guise. That witch was so sneaky that Temple could almost believe Revienne Schneider was another incarnation of her.

Matt seemed totally occupied by a knot of female groupies, bless his humble heart, so Temple eased over to Max and the Mysterious Man. For one thing, she was dying to know more about how he’d hooked up with Revienne.

The men turned at the heel clicks of her approach, but it was the Mysterious Stranger who greeted her first. “Ah, Miss Barr, isn’t it? I know your agile PR fingerprints are all over every successful event in this hyperactive city of ours, not to mention on the occasional crime scene. That Zoe Chloe Ozone persona of yours really hit with the teen crowd. And now I hear you’ve impressed some media folk in the Big Town.”

Temple stood there, shell-shocked. Out of the corner of her eye, Max looked equally taken aback.

The man extended a veined but elegant hand and gave hers a waft past his lips. “Tony Valentine,” he said. “I represent those close to you and hope for an even closer connection in the future.”

Almost no one rendered Temple speechless. She saw that Max was in the same gobsmacked state and felt infinitely better.

“Adieu, Mr. Kinsella,” Valentine said with almost a parting heel click. “Please think over our cocktail chitchat and call me at teatime tomorrow for a true business conversation.”

Temple had to stand on tippytoes to watch his majestic white head glide away through a crowd that parted like the Red Sea for Moses.

“Tony Valentine,” she finally repeated. “He’s Matt’s agent. How did he know about my adventures in crime and punishment?”

“Probably from your concerned fiancé,” Max said. “A good agent knows everything.”

“Then I should ask him about the hot blond French babe you’re suddenly escorting.”

Max’s laughter was so infectious, she rightly felt foolish.

“She’s French-German,” he corrected her.

“A quibble. You know she’s as French as a Victoria’s Secret Miracle Bra.”

Max paused. Thought. “Actually, the French don’t go in for artificial implementation. Au naturel, you know.”

“So I noticed. Okay. What are you doing, exposing your self all over town? You know it’s not safe.”

“I know ‘safe’ isn’t the way we’re going to smoke out Kathleen O’Connor.” Max gazed over her head at someone. He took a deep breath. “You realize her pattern is to torment next of kin, significant others, everyone but the true target of her rage.”

“So you aim to make yourself Mr. Prime Target, against the odds she even cares to torment you further at this point.”