Since Las Vegas is littered with guidebooks as well as bodies, I wish to provide a rundown of the local landmarks on my particular map of the world. A cast of characters, so to speak:
To wit, my lovely roommate and high-heel devotee, “Miss Nancy Drew” on killer spikes, freelance PR ace Miss Temple Barr, who had reunited with her elusive love …
… The once-again-missing-in-action magician Mr. Max Kinsella, who has good reason for invisibility. After his cousin Sean died in a bomb attack during a post–high-school jaunt to Ireland, he joined his mentor, Gandolph the Great, in undercover counterterrorism work.
Meanwhile, Mr. Max has been sought on suspicion of murder by another dame, Las Vegas homicide detective Lieutenant C.R. Molina, single mother of teenage Mariah.
Mama Molina is also the good friend of Miss Temple’s freshly minted fiancé, Mr. Matt Devine, a radio talk-show shrink and former Roman Catholic priest, who came to Vegas to track down his abusive stepfather and ended up becoming a local celebrity.
Speaking of unhappy pasts, Miss Lieutenant Carmen Regina Molina is not thrilled that her former flame, Mr. Rafi Nadir, the father of Mariah, is living and working in Las Vegas after blowing his career at the LAPD… .
Meanwhile, Mr. Matt drew a stalker, the local lass that Max and his cousin Sean boyishly competed for in that long-ago Ireland …
… one Miss Kathleen O’Connor, deservedly christened Kitty the Cutter by Miss Temple. Finding Mr. Max as impossible to trace as Lieutenant Molina did, Kitty the C settled for harassing with tooth and claw the nearest innocent bystander, Mr. Matt Devine.
Now that Miss Kathleen O’Connor has self-destructed and is dead and buried, things are shaking up at the Circle Ritz. Mr. Max Kinsella is again MIA. In fact, I saw him hit the wall of the Neon Nightmare club while in the guise of a bungee-jumping magician, the Phantom Mage. Neither I nor Las Vegas has seen him since.
That this possible tragedy coincides with my ever-lovin’ roommate going over to the Light Side (our handsome blond upstairs neighbor, Mr. Matt Devine) in her romantic life only adds to the angst and confusion.
However, things are seldom what they seem, and almost never in Las Vegas. A magician can have as many lives as a cat, in my humble estimation, and events seem to bear me out. Meanwhile, Miss Lieutenant C. R. Molina’s domestic issues past and present are on a collision course as she deals with two circling mystery men of her own, Mr. Rafi Nadir and Mr. Dirty Larry Podesta, an undercover narc who has wormed his way into her personal and professional crusades.
Such surprising developments do not surprise me. Everything is always up for grabs in Las Vegas 24/7: guilt, innocence, money, power, love, loss, death, and significant others.
All this human sex and violence makes me glad that I have a simpler social life, such as just trying to get along with my unacknowledged daughter …
… Miss Midnight Louise, who insinuated herself into my cases until I was forced to set up shop with her as Midnight Investigations, Inc… .
… and needing to unearth more about the Synth, a cabal of magicians that may be responsible for a lot of murderous cold cases in town, now the object of growing international interest.
So, there you have it, the usual human stew—folks good, bad, and hardly indifferent—all mixed-up and at odds with one another and within themselves. Obviously, it is up to me to solve all their mysteries and nail some crooks along the way.
Like Las Vegas, the City That Never Sleeps, Midnight Louie, private eye, also has a sobriquet: the Kitty That Never Sleeps.
With this crew, who could?
Magic Carpet
“Danny Dove really gave you a great view from your bed,” Temple told Matt, snuggling into his shoulder. “I didn’t realize that, seeing this room from the outside in.”
“I’m glad we’re both seeing it from the inside out too,” he answered. “Sorry we have to do the ‘Early Show’ routine, though.”
“With cable and DVDs, what does it matter? Dinner at eight, movie at nine, and you’re on your way to WCOO-FM for your Midnight Hour show at eleven.”
“Leaving you alone to creep downstairs to your unit, and only a cat for company.”
“Don’t let Louie hear you describing him as ‘only a cat’!”
“Somebody needs to trim his overgrown feline ego. I have to admit that his shenanigans have inadvertently helped save your life, for which I’m thankful.”
Matt expressed his gratitude by kissing her thoroughly enough to make her toes curl. “He’s welcome to leave black hairs on Danny’s precious damask coverlet up here anytime.”
“Not necessary,” Temple said. “Louie considers the bed downstairs his.”
“You mean, when we marry, we’ll have to take that California king-size bed along to our new joint residence?”
Temple understood that the bed she’d shared with Louie—and Max Kinsella—might not make a terrific house warming item.
“Maybe I’ll just take the zebra-pattern coverlet Louie loves and looks so good on.”
“I doubt Danny would approve.”
“Danny may have updated your monk’s cell to an Architectural Digest playboy pad, but he’s not going to be sleeping in our future house. Have you thought where you’d like to move? Golf course view?” Matt made a face. “Mountainside or Strip view?” He shook his head. “Water view?”
“Wasteful in this climate.”
“Church view, like Molina’s place?”
“No.” He was laughing. “We need to think of other things than moving first.”
“Like what?”
“For starters, I have some news.”
“News!” Temple muted the movie and sat up in bed.
“Easy, ex-newshound. It’s nothing major. It’s actually a bit annoying for a newly engaged woman. I have a week of vacation coming up—”
“And you didn’t tell me? We could join Kit and Aldo in Italy!”
“I’m not intruding on someone’s honeymoon.”
“I’m sure most of the honeymooning must be done by now. They’re coming home in a week or so.”
“Temple, I can’t go to Italy. I can’t go anywhere with you. This was set up before we were us.”
“Oh? So it involves another woman?”
He grinned sheepishly. “As a matter of fact, it does.”
“Ah!” Temple inhaled in mock indignation.
“Several, in fact.”
“Beast!” She pounded just as mockingly on his shoulder and chest.
“But it might serve our larger purpose very well.”
“Larger purpose?”
“Holy matrimony.”
“Oh, that’s different. Go on. What did you have to keep so secret?”
“It’s not secret; I just forgot about it in the recent excitement.”
“This recent excitement?” Temple prodded.
Matt ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Not that recent. I mean the threats on our lives and our mad, impetuous engagement preceding them.”
“Ha! You’re about as impetuous as a tortoise, so I believe you when you say this me-less vacation was on the books for some time. Where are you going?”
“Chicago.”
“Ah. No doubt you’ll be breaking the news about me to the family?”
“Yes, but that’ll be the least of my worries.”
“ ‘Worries’? Marrying me is a worry?”
“Not you. The idea. My family saw me as a priest for almost half my life. And it’s taken my mother most of my whole life to recover from having me out of wedlock.”
“I would have you out of wedlock anytime,” Temple said soberly.
“You are,” he pointed out. “Am I glad I ran into that ex-priests’ group when I was helping you investigate one of those murders you feel compelled to help solve. They made me see the spirit of the canon law is more important than the letter of it.”
“I keep forgetting I’m a … ‘near occasion of sin’—isn’t that the terminology?”
Matt frowned, sounding stern. “You didn’t get that from me. Who told you that?”