Кэрол Дуглас - Cat In A White Tie And Tails

All he knew from Temple Barr, his lost love, and Molina, his unremembered enemy, was that a body had been found in the above-casino area of the Goliath. Molina, at least, had given him the vic’s name. Max lifted an elbow to claw farther forward and banged his funny bone on a metal strut.

Not funny, he thought with gritted teeth, biting back monumental curses. The drilling pain made him wonder why torture by funny bone had never been popular. What had Temple said? The man had been stabbed. That method of murder made sense in these cramped labyrinths, but one sure couldn’t lift an arm far to get in a decent killing blow.

According to Review-Journal archives the victim, Anthony Hedberg, had been the Goliath’s assistant security chief. Had Tony happened on a crime in the making, say abetting big-time cheating on the gaming tables below, or blackmailing the cheaters, or even a heist? Or was Hedberg a good guy gone bad? Was he setting the stage for any or all of the above?

Like many multiple-choice questions, those speculations weren’t solid enough to bet on.

Moving along mentally and physically in the dark, Max crawled right off the edge of a drop. Adrenaline peaked as he fell.

His latex-gloved fingers clawed upward to grab for struts, but his body swagged into a shallow depression, not a void. He tried to avoid scrabbling for stability and sounding like squirrels in the attic. The casino floor below chimed with choruses of cheery computerized sound from the slot machines, but the general racket would be more muted if he happened to be above a blackjack or craps table.

Exploring the miniature sinkhole, he concluded it was the equivalent of a duck blind in the sky. Back out a couple of bolts and you could shift the camera to look down on a Twenty-one table next to the cash-out area. A crook or a cop in this overlooking cradle could go country or pop: exploit the position for cheating at cards or know when the loaded cash cart was leaving for the vault.

So why kill the guy in the sweet spot? Maybe someone was trying a takeover bid. Or … Hedberg had spotted signs of a heist and was hoping to play the hero and expose the scheme at the last minute.

It had been his last minute, all right.

Max used his tiny high-intensity flashlight to inspect the overlooking post. Somebody with a sizable investment of time and stealth had prepared it. The area either suffered from black mold or the fingerprint dust from the police investigation two years ago remained undisturbed.

Max used the peephole station to jackknife his long legs around so he could retrace his path face-first. The classic “stiff upper lip,” gained by biting his lower lip with his upper teeth, kept the painful process quiet.

An echoing scuffle above the venting shadowed his withdrawal. It could be the hotel had installed a more modern catwalk above the old camera access route, with one-way glass to survey the casino.

Or … it could be his incursion had loosed a hound. The answer would soon be obvious as he approached the light leaking through the venting grille at the beginning of the air-duct tunnel, and now the end, for his retreat.

Chapter 10

Family … Matters

Facing the blankness of the apartment door, Matt had no illusions about this apparently impulsive Saturday-night dinner for four. He was bringing Temple into something far trickier than your average possibly awkward family get-together.

He shifted the strap of Midnight Louie’s carrier on his shoulder, marveling at her fortitude in carting around the hefty tomcat.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked, glancing nervously at the blank apartment door in front of them.

“Your secret strength.”

“Right, midget Supergirl. Calves of steel on spikes of iron.” She hefted one foot cradled in those shoes that were only thin leather straps on a platform high heel of pewter-colored metal.

She’d changed from hotel-room sweats back into the red leather suit that even Matt could tell meant business.

“You look very Waterplace Tower,” he told her, “but I’m guessing you’ll need those roach-stompers here in Chicago.” He wasn’t totally kidding as he knocked on wood for luck, and the usual reason. Admittance.

The door opened instantly to his rapping. Matt’s younger cousin, Krystyna, filled the space like the real Supergirl. Her naturally blond hair was chopped into intersecting sprayed angles of magenta and black, the black matching her exotic eye makeup. Matt could hardly take in what she wore at one glance, except it was black and white and Lady Gaga.

“You must be Temple,” Krys said, looking down on her older, smaller rival.

“Right.” Temple was unintimidated by the Amazonian Alternative Lifestyle model looming in front of her. “I have an alter ego that would lurve your look, sister. Krys with a Y, is it, or are you going by a performance name now? Chris Angel is taken.”

Krys blinked. She hadn’t expected the conventionally but modishly dressed fiancée to understand her visual statement.

Matt escorted Temple inside while the doorwoman remained gawking. It had been evident on his last trip to Chicago. His fifteen-years-younger cousin was still “crushing” on him, as Temple’s teen persona, Zoe Chloe Ozone, would put it. If it came to a smackdown between the two, Matt’s money was on Temple and her secret weapon, Zoe Chloe. Plus, Temple had faced down a serial killer in her latest avocational stab at playing private detective.

His mom was hovering in the archway to the next room, letting her taller, broader niece and roommate be the front woman.

Matt hated to see his mother retreating again in that effacing way, as she had during his latest visit only a couple weeks ago. She was the real reason he’d come back. Mira had been blossoming lately, but had suddenly shut down. Matt reached to draw her forward even as he pulled Temple to his side.

“Mom, meet Temple. Temple meet Mira.”

“Now I see where Matt gets his telegenic looks.” Temple extended her right, ring-bare hand. Mira took it with a shy smile as the contact became more of a clasp than a shake.

Matt felt so much pride in his mother. She was wearing the blue topaz earrings and Virgin Mary–blue silk blouse he’d bought her that matched her eyes. The few silver filaments in her softly styled blond hair made her seem to glow, like the actresses who had glitter strands woven into their hair. His mom had earned every silver thread. She’d borne him at eighteen, but still looked more like an older sister of forty.

“You’re beautiful,” Temple blurted, despite her tactful nature.

“Not me,” Mira answered. “I’m supposed to say that to you and it’s true.”

Krys edged beside Matt as his mother escorted Temple from the archway of the small foyer into the modest apartment’s living room. Matt lingered to let them get acquainted.

“Going for miniatures in your old age, huh, Cuz?” Krys murmured under her breath.

“Don’t do that cynical routine, Krys. Own what you are; Temple does. I remember you had a bleak time in junior high when the other kids called you ‘Mrs. Ed.’”

It was hard to see highly rouged cheeks flush but Matt detected a sideways shamed glance.

“You’re a shrink, sort of,” Krys said. “What’s with the girlfriend’s overcompensating heavy-metal heels?”

“ You noticed them, didn’t you? Consider it akin to a gang insignia.”

“You warned her about me ?” Krys sounded cheerier. “You don’t need a bodyguard.”

She pushed closer as Matt swung Louie’s carrier around from behind his hip. Krys was staring into a dark feline face with slitted eyes and flattened ears that looked mighty like a black panther.