Unknown - Cat_In_A_Hot_Pink_Pursuit

“I didn’t. Nothing to run into, not even a current of disturbed air. Nobody went out of here.”

Temple swaggered to the door in Xoe’s motorcycle boot gait, which is hard to do in bunny slippers.

From Rafi Nadir’s expression, he’d come to the same conclusion as Savannah.

“Hey.” Xoe Chloe blew a kiss at her own bizarre reflection. Totally not-Temple. “You got a full-length mirror here. Next to the door. How’d you rate?”

“Yes.” Savannah was pleased by her observation. “That’s part of my contract wherever I appear. A full-length mirror installed next to the room door. So I can check myself just before I leave. So many women end up dragging toilet paper on their shoes or with hitched-up skirts or worse from not checking their full-length reflection in a mirror before they leave a hotel room.”

“You’re saying—?” Nadir pressed Temple/Xoe with the same weary skepticism his no-longer-significant other used.

“I’m saying the mirror by the door, in dim light, could confuse a witness. Or a victim.”

“A victim?” Savannah’s voice—never sweet, gentle, and low—rose to new hysterical heights. “I was to be a victim?”

Temple nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure about that. “The cats must have sensed a problem and attacked the man in black in the dark, before the lights went on. Their eyes don’t require much light to see.”

“The cats.” Savannah glanced around. “My little darlings! Fighting for their mommy tooth and nail.”

“Nails,” Temple corrected, pointing out another lost sheath with the pink felt nose end of her bunny slipper. Nadir frowned and dropped down to the carpet to mark the spot with an X of tape he’d taken from a dispenser on the spindly-legged desk near the door.

Temple, meanwhile, advanced on the mirror. Midnight Louie was shadowing her ankle like it was his lost love. She hoped that wouldn’t give her away. Savannah certainly wasn’t praising him as her savior.

But then, unlike Rafi, he wasn’t Savannah’s bodyguard. He was Temple’s.

She glanced down. In the now overlit room, Louie’s dark pupils were the eye of the needle in his enigmatic green eyes. They were aimed like arrows toward the target of the mirror.

Once in front of it, Temple’s fingernails tested the frame, looking for a mechanism.

Rafi came up behind her, his dark reflection encompassing her pageant-pink one for a moment, like an ugly storm cloud swallowing a remnant of the sunset. Would he recognize her now? Or had her gift for disguise fooled even a suspicious guy like him?

He eyed her for a long while. But it wasn’t really her he was looking at, for he then lifted the mirror off its hook as if it were made of cardboard. As if to prove something.

And revealed…

A paneled wall. A wall paneled in picture frame panels, rather.

His black work boot pushed at the bottom. The inside of the panel clicked inward, revealing a dark and mysterious passage beyond.

He stepped into the patch of black. “Stay here.”

“Wait a minute, dude. I found this.”

“Drop the dead-end-kid act.”

Temple’s heart dropped instead. He’d made her! Then he went on.

“You think you’re such a tough twerp. You’re a kid. In your nightie. Stay here.”

Temple rammed him from the side and forced her leg through, bunny slipper and all.

“This is nuts! The city is crawling with ballsy little broads. Stay here and pet the cats or something.”

“I’ll raise such a ruckus you’ll be the last person on earth to see inside that passage.”

Rafi, glowering like a World Wrestling Federation personality at intermission, reluctantly stood aside.

“Ladies first.” He didn’t, of course, mean either word of it.

That didn’t matter. Neither one of them would be first into the dark.

Midnight Louie hefted his tail into the air at a ninety-degree angle and preceded them into the lightless secret passage beyond.

Temple followed and so did a thin beam of light. She turned back to see Rafi hoisting a cigar-size flashlight he’d pulled from his jeans pocket.

The passage was pretty dull. Instead of being dank and vermin ridden, it was dry and dusty. Nothing moved in it but them. Louie spotted a few snakes to pounce on but they turned out to be electric cables.

Rafi pointed his narrow light at the seam where ceiling and walls met. More cables, affixed to the support beams by huge staples.

“The man who built this place was a bit paranoid, like Elvis,” Temple noted.

“Perfect setup for wiring and surveillance. That’s why the producers picked this house. It was wired for everything already. Must be more of these access passages all though the place.”

“Perfect system for sick pranksters to use,” she noted. Rafi laughed. “Yeah. I’d call the producers of all these rigged reality shows sick pranksters. Amazing. People protest the increased surveillance touching their lives because of terrorists but love to watch their fellow citizens being eavesdropped on and filmed on the sly and tricked in these cheesy reality shows.”

“Inhumane nature,” Temple commented sagely.

The flashlight picked out the black shapes of hidden cameras strung along the corridor like suspended bats in a cave.

“The technicians must be running up and down these all the time,” she noted. “What keeps a really nasty voyeur from being among them?”

“Not a thing, bunnie babe. Not one thing. I suppose there’s no hope for it but to go back and guard that Ashleigh broad. Ain’t it amazing how the most irritating one aboard is the most careful to protect herself?”

“Oh, Miss Ashleigh isn’t the most irritating one here.”

“You have a better candidate?”

He obviously had not considered the male contingent. Dexter Manship … Crawford Buchanan … Mr. Hair Guy. Male chauvinism can be blinding.

They re-emerged smelling of dust and, it turned out, covered in it. (Only Louie seemed to relish the fact. He shook himself dust free in a few seconds, then began licking his coat in the proper direction again.) No one much noticed their less-than-triumphal return. The room thronged with cooing girls in pink pajama sets intent on both soothing Savannah and courting her vote.

Even the Persian girls were now ensconced on the bedspread beside their recumbent mistress, purring away in solace and solidarity.

“Frightening,” Rafi noted.

Temple was sure that Midnight Louie concurred, and she was ready to join the both of them.

“I’m being stalked,” Savannah insisted. “I suspected asmuch but now that this demon, this evil black ninja, has shown up in my very room, I’m certain of it.”

The accusation caused all eyes to turn toward the trio returned from their expedition through the looking glass, all black in some sinister way. There was Louie, black as a witch’s familiar from toe to tail to tip of ear. Temple and her ebony Cher hair. Rafi Nadir and his Middle-Eastern looks in black denim. The lion, the witch, and the … Temple glanced at Rafi. No, he did not qualify as a wardrobe. Thank goodness.

“There’s a hidden passage,” he said, “behind the mirror. Anyone could have come in or out.”

Savannah sat up, all disheveled blonde hair (her usual style anyway). “My babies were in danger!” She gathered Yvette and Solange close, their eyes slitting in an expression of utter feline distaste mixed with bored sufferance.

Come to think of it, that exactly matched the expression on Rafi Nadir’s face.

“Nail it shut,” she ordered.

“Can’t,” he said. “The mirror covers the entire door.”

“Well, I can’t possibly move. It would upset the girls. Cats are far more attached to places than to people.”