“Sorry, boy. I’ll feed you as soon as I drag the bag back from the car.”
She was back in minutes, staggering, to find the carrier empty and Louie nowhere in sight. Temple sighed, slung the huge brown-paper bag to the kitchen countertop and proceeded to exercise her nails on trying to puncture the stitched-shut top. She finally fetched the kitchen shears and took several ill-tempered stabs at the tough paper until she worried a ragged hole in one comer.
Then she hefted the heavy bag and squatted to pour its contents into Louie’s empty banana split dish. Green-brown pellets plugged the hole, then burped out in a dirty hail, scattering like run-amok marbles on the black and white tiles.
“Oh, holy horseradish! This feline health food is gonna break my back. Louie! Come and get it.”
He refused to show, so Temple stomped into her bedroom to look under the bed. Nothing animal there but dust bunnies. The louvered closet doors were shut, but she jerked one open just the same. Jerk. Speaking of which, there was Max, face-to-face.
She studied the glossy, oversized poster she knew like the markings on her mauve snakeskin J. Renees. By now, Max, the most mobile of men both mentally and physically, had become frozen into this single, hype-ridden image: black turtleneck, black unruly hair, green stare. The Mystifying Max, vanished magician, former roommate, lost lover. Was he ever.
And now his past recycled: a massive silver Vampire on wheelies. It must have meant something to him, owning a classic. He must have ridden it at one time; left it behind when his act toured distant cities like Minneapolis. He must have figured a Heckwith, or whatever, Vampire wasn’t Temple’s speed, or he’d have kept it, shown it to her. Said, Hop on, I’ll take you for a ride. He hadn’t needed a motorcycle for that.
Temple sat suddenly on the bed, still staring at the poster. She wasn’t a motorcycle moll. She couldn’t see herself roaring along the never-ending white centerline on two narrow tires and a bloated black belly of steel. Maybe Max couldn’t see that either. Maybe that’s why he’d left; she was too conventional, took herself too seriously.
Maybe she would have liked it, plastering herself behind Max, wrapped up in gear with a dark crystal ball for a crown and the wind rushing at them, the road running away behind them and speed thrumming with exultation between their conjoined thighs....
Temple rose, then used her long, lacquered nails to peel the tape very carefully from the four comers of the poster. She folded the excess tape down on the back before rolling the heavy paper into one long white cylinder. Then she stuffed it down in the far dark back comer of the closet where the last of Max’s clothes hung waiting to be taken to the Goodwill someday.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
www.carolenelsondouglas.com
Carole Nelson Douglas is the award-winning author of 60 novels in the mystery/thriller, science fiction/fantasy and romance/women’s fiction genres. She currently writes the long-running Midnight Louie, feline PI, cozy-noir mystery series (Cat in an Alphabet Soup, Cat in an Aqua Storm, Pussyfoot, Cat on a Blue Monday etc.) and the Delilah Street, Paranormal Investigator, noir urban fantasy series (Dancing with Werewolves) set in imaginative variations of Las Vegas: contemporary and paranormally post-apocalyptic.
Carole was the first author to make a Sherlockian female character, Irene Adler, a series protagonist, with the New York Times Notable Book of the Year, Good Night, Mr. Holmes. She has won Lifetime Achievement Awards from RT Book Reviews for Mystery, Suspense and Versatility, and was named a Pioneer of Publishing. Her Midnight Louie novels and stories also won several Cat Writers’ Association first-place Muse Medallions, including for “Butterfly Kiss” and “The Riches That There Lie.” Carole has e-published the first four Irene Adler novels and some shorter fiction. (www.wishlist.com)
A daily newspaper reporter, feature writer and editor in St. Paul, she moved to Fort Worth to write fiction fulltime and was recently inducted into the Texas Literary Hall of Fame.
ALSO BY CAROLE NELSON DOUGLAS
“Her fine Sherlockian novels and her Midnight Louie books have turned her into a genuine mystery star. Pick one up and you'll see why.”—Ed Gorman, founder of Mystery Scene magazine
The DELILAH STREET, Paranormal Investigator, series in print and eBook
Dancing with Werewolves... Brimstone Kiss... Vampire Sunrise... Silver Zombie... Virtual Virgin
The New York Times Notable IRENE ADLER Series in print and eBook
Good Night, Mr. Holmes... The Adventuress... A Soul of Steel... Another Scandal in Bohemia... Chapel Noir and Castle Rouge (Jack the Ripper duology)... Femme Fatale... Spider Dance
Novellas in eBook
Alice Holds the Cards
Fruit of the Tomb (ML)
Monster Mash (DS)
Once Upon a Midnight Noir
(in print also) ML & DS
The Private Wife of Sherlock Holmes (IA)
Christmas Stories
The Rakehell’s Christmas Angel
Scrogged: A Cyber Christmas Carol
A Wall Street Christmas Carol
The MIDNIGHT LOUIE Feline PI series in print
Cat in an Alphabet Soup... Cat in an Aqua Storm... Cat on a Blue Monday... Cat in a Crimson Haze... Cat in a Diamond Dazzle... Cat with an Emerald Eye... Cat in a Flamingo Fedora... Cat in a Golden Garland... Cat on a Hyacinth Hunt... Cat in an Indigo Mood... Cat in a Jeweled Jumpsuit... Cat in a Kiwi Con... Cat in a Leopard Spot... Cat in a Midnight Choir... Cat in a Neon Nightmare... Cat in an Orange Twist... Cat in a Hot Pink Pursuit... Cat in a Quicksilver Caper... Cat in a Red Hot Rage... Cat in a Topaz Tango... Cat in a Sapphire Slipper... Cat in an Ultramarine Scheme... Cat in a Vegas Gold Vendetta... Cat in a White Tie and Tails... Cat in an Alien X-Ray... (Forthcoming: Cat in a Yellow Flash... Cat in a Zebra Zoot Suit...Cat in an Amber Bookend
* in eBook, F to K forthcoming in eBook
Table of Contents
Cover
Back cover
About the Midnight Louie Mysteries
Start Book
About the Author
Also by Carole Nelson Douglas
Midnight Louie, P.I.
Chester’s Last Chapter
An Editor Edited
Nothing but a Pack of Flacks
New Boy in Town
The Fall Guy
Authors on Parade
Writers Anonymous
Feline Follies
Lost and Found
A Little Night Music
Catastrophe...
...And Apostrophe
Enter Ingram
Behind the Eight Ball
Hunter on the Prowl
The Ultimate Sacrifice
Missing Purrsons
A Mavis in Flight
Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Thief
Midnight Louie, Dead Matter
Alone at Last
Temple on Ice
Cool Hand Louie
The Name of the Game is... Murder
Killer Exit