Or, wait. A Chicago Bar, based on the hit musical, and Matt could run it.
Or…you are getting really punchy, Temple.
She shook her head free of outrageous ideas, and printed her note pages. She looked around one last time for Louie, then decided to head for the Thrill ‘n’ Quill. Louie had plenty of Free-to-Be-Feline in his bowl, Electra was out, and Maeveleen had to be on duty until nine. It was just eight thirty. Maeveleen was the perfect sounding board for Electra’s new urban village concept, since hers would be a founding shop.
Temple was truly happy and hyped. Everything was rosy. Matt’s career was back on track; so was Louie’s. She had an exciting new career opportunity herself. Electra had dodged an economic bullet, and Temple could help her build a whole new retail world from the bottom up. High time to share her ideas.
“This is wonderful!” Maeveleen said after scanning Temple’s two pages.
The shop was empty at the moment, except for two browsing women and Ingram snuggled in the window. He slept like Louie did, Temple noticed, always on duty. One ear down flat and the other perked.
“I particularly like the food places,” Maeveleen said. “Local regulations have become so strict on banning animals where food is available, I can barely sneak in fast food for my lunch. What a difference a separating wall makes.”
“This is all just blue-sky speculation,” Temple said. “I haven’t run it past Electra.”
“Why not?”
“She’s not answering her cell. Must not be around the Circle Ritz.”
“No, of course not. A while back I saw her rushing past so fast she didn’t even wave. I figured she was checking out her new building.”
“When was this?
Maeveleen eyed the big clock on her wall.
“What a great cuckoo clock,” Temple exclaimed. “I never noticed it.”
“It’s not a cuckoo-bird clock,” Maeveleen said. “It’s ravens baked in a pie. They pop out in appropriate numbers.”
“Ravens? Weren’t four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie? Oh. Twenty-four hours. I get it. Ravens. Poe.”
Maeveleen’s broad smile showed her dimples. “Poe’s poem, ‘The Raven’, is a mystery classic. Mystery is about the dark side of everything.”
“Speaking of the dark side,” Temple said, “it’s getting late. Why would Electra be examining that building now? Its interior is darker than a bank vault even in daylight. I doubt any electricity is available.”
“I’m sure Electra has her own plans for the space.”
“Yes, but it helps to see the layout. Do you keep a decent flashlight here?”
“I park around the side, so no need.”
Temple looked over her shoulder to the door. The shop was so cheerily lit, especially the front window in which Ingram basked, that you forgot the time. The sun set about eight thirty. That old building would be as dim as King Tut’s tomb by now.
While Temple fretted, Maeveleen bustled away.
She returned and handed Temple something black plastic and bulky. “The Hardy Boys anniversary edition Junior Detective flashlight. I did put batteries in it so customers could try it out.”
“I’m being silly,” Temple said. “Let me call Electra again.” She did.
“Well?” Maeveleen asked as Temple tapped the cell phone screen and set one impatient toe tapping.
“No luck. ‘Leave a message.’ Electra always keeps her cell on, given the things that can come up at an apartment building.” Temple took the boxy flashlight. “I’ll check the building, in case. She could have fallen on that rickety staircase.”
Maeveleen looked dismayed. “I’d go with you, but I can’t leave until closing.”
“I’ve got a magic cell phone.” Temple waved her (yes) new zebra-pattern Austrian crystal case before returning it to her tote bag with the printouts. Vegas hotel shops sold tons of crystal-embellished phone cases in every pattern under the sun, moon, and stars. “It should only take a few minutes to check this out, and I’ll call you. I already entered your shop number in my contact list.”
“Wonderful, dear.” Maeveleen looked down. “Now don’t you trip in those high heels.”
Temple glanced down. “These are my pitons, like a cat’s claws.”
Even as she said it, she felt a small shiver of anxiety and rushed to get out the door.
The soft passage of air as it closed brought out goose bumps on her calves. That was odd, because the night air was as thick and temperate as lukewarm potato soup—maybe a baked potato with exotic toppings eatery, she envisioned—but the street was already darker than expected. Her imagined shops might show window lights or headlining neon at this hour, but once past the Thrill ‘n’ Quill only the occasional street lamp was on.
Temple phoned Matt. He wasn’t answering either, although he often used the later hours before his show to do errands, Vegas being a 24/7 town. This was starting to feel ominous.
She looked back to see Maeveleen working at her computer and lit up like a sitting duck inside. Ingram had deserted the window. He probably had been lured away by the bright, copy-reading lamp next to Maeveleen’s computer, like Louie was on her desk. And if there were papers nearby, he’d be lying on them.
Temple looked up the dark street. Maeveleen had been right. Navigating the empty lot in heels would require a flashlight. Thank you, Hardy Boys. Luckily, she knew the terrain from daylight. She needed more than the Hardy Boys, though.
One call she knew would be answered. “Nicky! Hi. I’m worried about Electra. No. nothing concrete enough to call the police. I think she’s in the abandoned building she inherited, and the female owner of the Thrill ‘n’ Quill bookshop near the Circle Ritz is alone in her shop nearby. Got some spare brothers for Maeveleen? Discreet backup would be welcome. Thanks.”
Temple disconnected on his agreement and found herself in an unfamiliar state. Indecisive. Should she wait here for a flock of Fontanas to surround the Thrill ‘n’ Quill and the building just down the street with their black Tesla sport cars? Go inside with Maeveleen until she was sure the storekeeper had a bodyguard? There could be nothing good about where Electra was last seen going and her not answering her cell phone. Her muumuus all had pockets.
The sound of flip-flops hitting sidewalk made Temple turn to see the newcomer, a college-age girl in a hurry. “This place still open? I need some books for my creative writing class.”
Books, plural. Good news for Maeveleen.
“Open until nine,” Temple said.
“Great.” The young woman blasted through the door, setting off the funeral bells.
She looked over her shoulder at Temple. “Cool effect. Thanks.”
Temple wasn’t so sure. Funeral bells could be an omen. She turned again to the bit of the empty lot she could glimpse ahead. Yikes. Dark came on fast in the desert and it seemed to be breaking records tonight. The Fontanas were en route. Meanwhile, anything could be happening to Electra, or nothing.
Temple saw movement near the lot, and took in a breath. Just a black cat, legs going as fast a centipede’s, silently running out of view. More of a blur than a moving body.
Louie had been out before she left the condo. Apparently he’d been en route here too.
Temple trotted after him, her heels making a racket with no one around to hear them. That she noticed.