Cinnamon fell back on the cushion of her diaper, much to her own surprise, flailing an arm toward the cat. Midnight Louise sniffed the baby's hand, then stepped closer.
Cat and child were nose to nose, silent and curious. Midnight Louise delicately sniffed the baby's face, no doubt detecting milk. Cinnamon turned to gaze up at her mother with an expression of vacant delight.
''She likes her!" Van said, although who was ''she" and who was "her" remained uncertain.
Van turned to Matt, some of that wide-eyed babyish joy still brightening her expression. "I shouldn't ask this, but if you got the cat by default-- ''
"You're welcome to her," Matt said quickly, "If she wants to stay. I work nights, and I haven't been home much days lately," He glanced nervously at Temple, as if he had revealed a clue she might pursue. ''It's not fair to the cat."
Van watched cat and baby absorbed in each other, while Midnight Louie finished the last of the champagne. She picked up Cinnamon and handed her to the nanny. ''Enough excitement for now. It appears that the Crystal Phoenix has a new house kitty, if Midnight Louise deigns to stay."
"I hope Midnight Louie deigns to come home now that he's the one and only cat at the Circle Ritz," Temple put in.
Louie, busy cleaning his whiskers, stopped to give her a piercing look, as if he thought she meant more than she said.
Temple was getting unsettled. Everybody was looking at her like she was Lieutenant Molina or something, always on the job. Was she missing something here? Probably a lot, she concluded.
"When will you have a draft of the master plan for the hotel?" Nicky asked Temple during the conversational lull.
"As soon as I can get all my scattered ideas on paper. It seems idiotic not to use the tunnels now that we know they're there. And I have--I hope--a small surprise already."
"The Goliath link will be sealed as soon as possible, of course," he said. "Why do you suppose the tunnels' only exit led there?"
"No mystery." Eightball came over to Nicky for a refill of champagne. "You young folks forget that only a few decades ago this was all desert. Ole Jersey Joe probably put the tunnel exit at the edge of his property. When he hit hard times, he began selling off land on the fringes of the Joshua Tree Hotel until all he had left was the hotel grounds. Then he sold that. It just happened that the Goliath was built atop the tunnels' end."
"By the way." Temple lifted her glass. "When we talk about the heroes of the tunnels, I'd like to toast my personal rescue team. Matt Devine and the Fontana brothers, every one."
"Amen," said Eightball, gulping down the exquisite champagne as if it were beer.
The brothers smiled with modest restraint, and Ralph fidgeted with his earring.
''All I did was find a flashlight and follow Midnight Louise" Matt objected.
"Trust a cat to find a new place to hide" Van said.
"Why was that entrance to the tunnel left open anyway?" Matt asked.
Everybody paused to consider. Except Nicky.
"I examined the scene with our security supervisor after the show. The door itself has a heavy metal frame to support the weight of the concrete block facade. When it swings shut, the fit is perfecto; a government inspector couldn't see it."
"It must have been shut all these years," Van added. "What opened it, and who discovered it?"
"All I know is-the how," Nicky said. "We found this phony electrical outlet nearby. If you pry off the cover, you reveal a button that operates a motor inside the tunnel. My security gal says that the costume rack was bolted to the floor recently, so nobody checked it. The robbers must have planned to leave their loot in the tunnel, seal up the entrance from the Goliath as fast as they could, then carry the cash out through the Phoenix in small amounts over time. Those guys were coming and going around here for quite a while setting this scheme up."
"And setting up the disruptions," Van put in, "to focus attention on the Gridiron and the Phoenix so all the suspicion and the police personnel forces would concentrate on us."
"Then they'd slink up from the basement in their own sweet time," Eightball said, "laughing up their sleeves at us the whole while. That's the kind of scheme Jersey Joe would have dreamed up. Almost makes you think the dirty double-crosser is still kicking."
"I hope not!" Van clasped her champagne flute to her chest as if it were fire and she was cold.
Nicky put an arm around her. "No more superstitious hokum. This hotel--and this suite--
harbor nothing intangible but history and memories. Hey, Van, I thought the whole idea of holding this party up here was to banish ghosts."
His wife's smile was tremulous. "I know. I want to be big and brave, but when I look at those two black cats and this suite--''
A knocking resonated in the room, startling everyone.
"Just the door,'' Temple said calmly, going to it. ''Who else are you expecting--?"
She opened it in mid-sentence, instantly getting her question answered in 3-D and Technicolor. ''Lieutenant Molina. What a surprise. Do come in."
"Miss Barr. Don't mind if I do."
Van von Rhine stepped away from her husband, the picture of a collected hostess. "I'm so glad you had time to drop by. Lieutenant. I didn't know how long that . . . business downstairs would take." She went to the table to collect the untouched glass of champagne.
That's Jersey Joe's Temple wanted to shout, but didn't. Instead she glanced at Matt, who was watching Molina with the same guarded suspicion that Temple usually had.
"This isn't my case." Molina's smile was purely social as she accepted the champagne and looked around. "What an . . . amazing room. What's the story?"
Awkwardness had settled on the party despite Molina's formal gown and informal question.
The brothers Fontana particularly looked like mongeese into whose midst a cobra has suddenly slithered. They began adjusting their tuxedos as if instantly infected with a plague of fleas and ticks.
Temple supposed that there were enough concealed weapons in the room to arm the LVMPD's tactical squad.
Molina, however, did not seem in the mood for police matters. She strolled the room's perimeter like a visitor to an art museum, studying each piece of furniture, the carpet, the blinds, the draperies, with quiet reverence.
"Jersey Joe Jackson's suite," Van explained, pride of possession overcoming fear of another kind of possession. "He was--"
"I know who he was,'' Molina interrupted in that official way of hers.
"This was his last residence before his death," Van continued without a hitch. "When the hotel was redone, nothing here was touched."
Molina turned with a radiant expression. "Brava! It's wonderful . . . and look at that--" she swept toward the television set, Fontana brothers scattering like ultra-formal bowling pins at her approach "--it's a television set, isn't it? Very early." Molina caressed the lid rim as she stared down into the oval screen. "Fabulous."
Temple was torn between wondering why on earth Van von Rhine had invited a police lieutenant to this informal gathering and pouting because the setting so appealed to Molina.
Worse, it enhanced her. Her size and height, her floor-length, crimson vintage gown, the simplicity of her hair and makeup fit the Ghost Suite like an old elbow-length kid glove.
Something touched her arm. She glanced up to find Matt smiling down at her. "The Blue Dahlia looks right at home, doesn't she?"
His reference made her smile too, but Temple couldn't help feeling that this was her night, her skit, her discovery in the tunnels, her friends and her cat to the rescue, her hotel. Molina was stealing some of Temple's stage-thunder, just by being here.
"Frank couldn't come?" Matt asked suddenly.
Molina turned with another one of those disconcertingly serene smiles. ''Unlike myself, he was on duty. He had cleanup work to do." She turned to Nicky and Van. *'Frank is an FBI man.