don’t set up a ring without a ringleader.”
Shoes shuffled restlessly on the travertine. No one was volunteering to walk down that beige brick road.
Temple turned toward Team Wong.
“Palm Beach. If drug smuggling was involved, then the Maylords store had a beachhead in Florida, a favorite entry gate. But that’s for Colombian drug lords. Las Vegas, on the other hand, and the coast, has Asian connections via the Pacific Ocean.”
“Wong was not involved,” Amelia objected.
“You travel internationally, you ship your lines of furniture and accessories. You appear at furniture markets and expos. You have a personal entourage so large that its members barely register as anything other than functionaries. It would take only one rotten orange in the crate to turn a blessing into an opportunity for crime.”
“Who would you accuse?” Amelia demanded.
“It would just be a guess, but maybe the police can dig up some evidence.”
As the uneasy faces massed behind Wong frowned in unison, they heard the sound of ripping fabric.
Louie had bestirred himself again and was takig it out on a suede sofa side.
Kenny and Benny whined in tandem. Louie strutted forth again, pausing to insinuate himself repeatedly around Amelia Wong’s slim, fishnet-hosed calves.
Fishnet hose! Probably Christian Dior. Temple held her breath that Louie would not snag them.
But he had meatier prey in mind, and in an instant was leaping up at a burlap-fabric sport coat behind Amelia Wong, claws
fanned full out.
“Ah, jeez,” came a nasal complaint. Louie lunged and fell while his victim backed up, never able to step back far enough to avoid the next onslaught of felix domesticus.
In less than a minute, while everyone watched, paralyzed, Louie had torn the unconstructed pocket loose and punctured the small sack of white powder therein.
“Carl!” Amelia Wong’s shock said everything.
Fontana brothers swarmed on cue, surrounding Nordic guilt with Latin vengeance.
“It’s not my fault, Amelia,” Carl said. “My life is the integration of mind, body, and soul, like yours. They hooked me in
Hong Kong on a buying trip, deliberately, to use me and your organization.”
Amelia Wong was not impressed. “If you had truly integrated mind, body, and soul, you wouldn’t have been vulnerable to these toxic foreign substances. But I will hire defense attorneys for you, Carl. Addiction is so destructive. Seeing the MADD efforts has made me much more aware of that, fortunately for you.”
Amelia Wong’s support made Carl slump in his captors’ custody. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I knew better. I was just … weak. I was so strong physically, and then, they gave me this powder, and I felt so much stronger. The weak came later, too late.”
“Now,” someone asked with gritted teeth, “can you call Molina?”
Temple turned to Rafi Nadir with a smile. Mark Ainsworth was in his firm custody. Raf wanted only one more thing: to hand the Maylords murderer over to his ex-squeeze. In person.
Temple upholstered her cell phone from its red pseudocroc leather case and pushed a button to let the good times roll.
Chapter 60 M o d e So,” l says PMiss IMidnight Louise the moment I amble onto the asphalt surrounding
Maylords. “You call this a collar?”
She has been glued to the repaired display windows for the last hour or two, after patrolling the exterior for the last twentyfour hours. I observed her presence, but was busy breaking a major case within.
In a partnership, the work must be divided. Equally. And I am clearly the inside man for the Maylords job, as I had
explained to her long and loud earlier.
This obvious fact does not quiet Miss Midnight Louise, but then what would?
“I have to pace around and around this twelve-acre store in the gritty wind and sun looking for phantom drug drops while you loll around on high-end furniture-its high end, not yours-in the air-conditioned inside waiting for your roommate to figure things out?”
“You forget, Louise, that I was there as indisputable triggerman. I literally nailed both perps. Actually, two perps and a
stooge. All without uttering a word, or a growl, actually.”
“You were asleep at the switch, Pops. Miss Temple did all the work in laying out the precedents. You just shredded a few
tailoring fabrics.”
“I doubt the human olfactory abilities would have sniffed out the betraying cocaine among the Wong flunkies.”
“A blind kitten could have sniffed that stuff, not to mention ripped that pocket free. Burlap, Daddy-o? Just the most loose—
weaved fabric on the tailoring horizon. Kit’s play.”
“You are showing quite an unexpected fashion sense, Louise. The savvy operative can afford to overlook no field of knowledge. Consider Sherlock Holmes.”
“I have, Shredlock Homes! Why is Miss Temple letting Mr. Rafi Nadir get the credit for the collar?”
“Oh, some complex human territorial dispute. You know how that is. Now. Our duties here are ended. We can repair to a nearby Dumpster for a celebratory dinner or … I can escort you back to my digs at the Circle Ritz. I understand there is a full bowl of Free-to-beFeline on ice there.”
“Free-to-beFeline! You are speaking of the new gourmet line, I presume?”
“Uh … yeah. You like that stuff? Do you not indulge in Asian cuisine daily from the cleaver of Chef Song at the Crystal
Phoenix?”
“Yes, but it is not formulated for the feline epicure. The new gourmet Free-to-beFeline. I must reevaluate your redheaded roommate. Apparently she has hidden depths.”
Well, knock me over with an ostrich feather and call me Sally Rand! Miss Midnight Louise actually digs that awful, dry,
army-green feline health food. Far be it from me to disillusion her. Have I got a dish for her!
“The Circle Ritz it is, partner,” I say. “And en route I will reveal the scintillating clues and marvelous deductions that led me to shred my way to the truth.”
She sighs, dreaming of Free-to-beFeline.
What a wonderful world.
Chapter 61
Neon Nightmares
Rafi Nadir insisted on escorting Temple to her car.
She objected. “Really, the danger is over.”
“Some of those freaked-out bikers haven’t been caught yet. You’re lucky the one who nabbed you let you go.”
Temple was too tired to argue.
“I owe you big-time,” he said. “I bet Carmen won’t be getting a wink of sleep tonight. When she saw that you and me had bundled up the Maylords perps I thought her face would freeze off.” He chortled. “I know she hates my guts, but I can’t figure why she hates you so much. What’s not to like?”
Temple was too exhausted to go into her whole history with Molina. She shrugged as she tapped the button to unlock her car. Rafi dove to open the door, quite the gentleman.
“Get some rest, kid.”
“Can’t for long. I’ve got to figure out how to handle the media now that all the ugly truths behind Maylords are Out in the open.”
“Can’t you wash your hands of this loser outfit?”
“I took on the job of doing PR for them, and have to see it through to the bitter end.”
“Hey, look!” Rafi was gazing down at the asphalt. “It’s that nutso cat with a taste for cocaine.”
“Louie?” Temple leaned out to look. Not only was Louie sitting patiently on the asphalt, but he was accompanied by a
smaller, fluffier black cat.
Both sat there like statues, waiting.
Temple got out of the car. “Well, hop on in,” she told the cats. “Must want a ride home,” she told Rafi. “I don’t have a
safety setup for cats; I guess I better keep a soft-sided carrier inside just in case.”
“I’ll be darned.” He watched the two cats hop from the asphalt into the front seat and move into the passenger seat. “They
act like damn dogs. I thought cats didn’t follow orders.”