Unknown - 16_Cat_In_An_Orange_Twist

“She’s a lifestyle Nazi,” Temple said promptly. “Nothing hits as close to home as that. Some people swear by her and some people hate her house-remaking guts. I’d bet the death threats come from true believers, though, who think her advice somehow done them wrong.”

“Maybe. All I know is the Maylords management is playing amateur G-men, trying to catch what they say is a furniture—

stealing ring.”

“The management? Kenny Maylord himself?”

“Nah, that lard-ass manager, Mark Ainsworth. Acts like a little J. Edgar Hoover. Probably as much of a fairy too.”

Temple had idly tried another mouthful of lime Jell-O and almost spat it out. “Sexual persuasion shouldn’t matter-”

“Around Maylords it does. That place is crawling with queers.”

“Look. I’ve worked in the arts field and I don’t like you calling some of my friends names.”

“I’ve been called a raghead.”

“Didn’t like it, though, I bet.”

“Most people say all sorts of things in their living rooms they wouldn’t say on the street.”

“At least they know enough to keep it shut in public.”

He pushed away the meatloaf dish, now only a bloody smear of ketchup. “I call a spade a spade. You don’t like it, don’t ask me questions.”

“All you’re seeing at Maylords is that gay people are often very creative and they’re drawn to the decorative arts.”

“Why are they so damn creative? Isn’t that labeling them in another way?”

“Well, some observations hold true, by and large.”

“Right. Only mine aren’t worth anything because I come flat out and say it, is that the idea?”

“I didn’t come here to argue political correctness with you.”

“Why did you come here?”

“The Maylords opening is my baby. I’m responsible for things going smoothly. I need to know if any more bad-news

surprises are in store.”

” ‘In store.’ That’s good.”

“So what do you think of that explosion of gunfire?”

“Either sicko kids or a disgruntled former employee trying to throw a scare into the party. None of those shots was meant to hit anyone, or they would have. We were all in a freaking fishbowl.”

“But those shots could have hit someone. Who’d take a chance like that?”

“Someone who was drunk or high.”

“Only one person could do all that shooting?”

“With the right weapon, yeah. Or a gang of kids. I’m not the fuzz here, but I’m betting this was malicious mischief, not a gangland hit. So. Did you take this job because you’re still thinking I might be up to something illegal, or just because you wanted to see me again?”

“No way! How would I know you were there? Running into you again was an accident.”

“Most good things are.”

“That’s a pretty negative view of life. And I’m not so sure this is a good thing. So are you going to be working security there all week?”

“Maybe longer.”

Temple raised her eyebrows. She’d heard via Max’s recent undercover work that the lovely and charming Rafi Nadir had hooked up with a “big outfit” that was going to earn him “real money.” This couldn’t have been Maylords.

“You wouldn’t want to work for them full-time?”

“With all the … uh, creative types running around? No way. I have a semiregular gig for another outfit, but it’s not working out the way they promised.” He picked up a square of unused paper napkin and began pleating it.

His fingernails were completely clean, she noted With surprise. There was some core of self-respect there.

“What else would you do? Doesn’t sound like police work-”

He snorted at the mention and tore the folded napkin in half.

“I suppose you could … I don’t know how official your leaving the L.A. police was, but maybe you could get into private

investigation.”

“Private dick? They’re such sleazy bastards.”

Temple kept quiet, just lifted her hands with an I’m-off-thesubject gesture.

Nadir’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what you think I am? So much for my saving your ass. Man, that’s low. A private dickhead.”

“Maybe whatever you did to get taken off the force wouldn’t let you get a license or whatever anyway.”

“Nah. I took myself off the force. I got tired of the political correctness do-si-do. Anyway, they never had anything on me.”

“Boy, is this reassuring.”

“Private cop stuff? I could do it in a heartbeat. If I was dumb enough to want to starve to death doing spousal

surveillance.”

“This is Las Vegas. I bet there’s a lot of higher-level private security work around here than strip joints and furniture

stores.”

“They all have computer degrees nowadays. And the big joints go to big firms.”

“That’s why I pictured the lone operator. One man, one room, and one ex-stripper as a girl Friday.”

“No wonder you’re always getting your nose in a vise. You don’t live in a real world, girl. “

“What’s my motive and opportunity for that?”

He laughed softly. “So. You picked as much of my brains as you can stand for the moment?” “I wasn’t-”

He stood up, held out a hand.

Temple looked perplexed.

“Your tray. I’ll bus it. Maybe that’d be a good job for me.” She decided that there was nothing she could say that would make her or him look better, so she handed him the tray.

He glanced at the paltry little dishes. “You don’t eat much.

Maybe I make you nervous. Wonder if there’s a career in that.” If so, Matt Devine was moving right into it.

Chapter 18

Auld Acquaintance

“Look, man. It’s just that I really don’t want you hanging around my workplace. You know?”

“I’m beginning to get that this isn’t a pleasant workplace to hang around:’ Matt said, eyeing the Maylords model room settings. “You were ready enough to hang around my workplace a couple weeks ago … at three in the morning.” Jerome shrugged and said what Matt was starting to view as his mantra: “I guess.”

“What changed since then?”

“I figured out you weren’t gay.”

“You did it faster than I did:’ Matt said wryly. He meant it half-seriously. After sixteen years of religious celibacy, one was

a little disoriented on the outside, to say the least.

“Oh, come on! I should have known in seminary, except I had a lot of illusions then.”

“Didn’t we all. Look. I don’t care about our common past. I’m concerned with what I’m hearing here and now about this place.”

“You’re concerned about Janice.““Yes.”

“And that cute little redhead.”

Matt didn’t bother correcting that vastly inaccurate summation of Temple. “Less Temple than Janice. We don’t have to stay here to talk. Don’t you get a lunch hour?”

“Supposedly. Supposedly I was supposed to get a lot that I didn’t: a decent family; a religious education that didn’t screw

me up, literally; a future.”

Bitterness, Matt reflected, was the first refuge of many a depressed personality.

“So now you want to spend time with me,” Jerome noted, bitterly. “So I can help you help the women in your life.”

“There aren’t any women in my life. More like friends. I don’t get it. You were pretty anxious to talk to me outside WCOO a couple weeks ago.”

“Yeah. ‘Mr. Midnight’ was gonna make it all right, like the billboard said. You’re not coming from the same place I am.

Forget it.”

“We did come from the same place, Jerome. That’s the point. Let me buy you lunch.”

Jerome looked around, like Judas hunting eavesdroppers in the Garden of Gethsemene. That New Testament image gave Matt an idea.