Cat In An Alien X-Ray

Already it is down to the little things of life, even before the wedding. Tsk tsk.

“No,” Mr. Matt says, sounding guilty.

“There’s a weirdly urgent message from Max. It is like it was cut off,” Miss Temple says. “We have to get to his place right away.”

“I have never been there,” Mr. Matt says as I hear Miss Temple running around to the passenger side in what sounds like the flap of flats.

Things must be dire if she is going out in around-the-house shoes.

“I know the route. Get to Highway 95. And floor it.”

Ooof! My cheek and jowl are pinched by pain as my head and body are slung back against the backseat base and then into the back of the driver’s seat.

Belatedly, I curl my shivs into the luxury carpet and hang tough.

While Miss Temple backseat drives from the front seat, I rapidly sum up the Cat Pack situation.

Miss Midnight Louise will be on-site, since she elected to follow Mr. Max. Who took on Miss Kitty? Ma Barker. I told her that was a rough assignment for a senior citizen, but after she had slapped the starch out of my whiskers, she told me seniority meant she had the savvy and clout to slap the stuffing out of any sniveling psychopath on the planet.

I sure hope so, because I know of no way to notify the rest of the Cat Pack that something dark and dirty is going down on Mojave Way.

Chapter 51

Hit Me with Your Best Shot

Temple read the cryptic message aloud as Matt gunned the Jaguar away from the Circle Ritz and into the city’s residential areas.

“Hand me your phone,” she ordered Matt urgently.

He dug in his pants’ pocket and produced it.

“Here. Look,” she said. “No, don’t look. Drive. You got the same message from Max about twenty minutes ago. ‘My place right away. End game.’”

“And you’re sure it’s from Kinsella?” Matt sounded skeptical. “He’s not one to call for help.”

“I don’t think it’s help he wants. Maybe he’s found some amazing way to use the map to go right to the IRA hoard. Get that to the authorities, and maybe all the related crimes will clear right up.”

“Why didn’t he call Molina?”

“Not without checking with us Round Table members.” Temple frowned at the message on the screen.

“Maybe he just wanted to interfere with our sleep.”

“Poor baby.” She put a hand on Matt’s arm and he jumped. “You’ve been losing too much sleep over those post-show sessions with Leticia Brown. Her Ambrosia brand will still thrive without you as a follow-up. Are you breaking in someone to replace you? A secret candidate?”

“No.” Matt risked a glance away from threading through the curving residential streets. “That’s over, Temple. No more late nights out. I’m pulling the plug.”

“Really! We can get back to normal. I’m thrilled!”

Matt spared her a quirky smile. “As a professional counselor, I can’t promise anyone can get back to normal.”

She grinned. “Just think. If Max has cracked the mystery, maybe we can put Kitty the Cutter in the hands of the police for whatever crime she’s been doing and we’ll all be safe and happy and able to go our own ways.”

“You are way too bouncy for five in the morning. This the street?”

“Yes, eighth house on the right, with the shutters.”

“Nice.”

“They’re metal and close over the windows.”

“Hmm. Fort Knox. I’m going to approach with caution.” Matt slowed the Jaguar to a silent idle. “Let’s just leave the car doors ajar, instead of slamming them. This is where Molina was attacked.”

“That’s silly,” Temple whispered, doing as he said. “Max is in residence there now. Mr. International Agent.”

Nevertheless, they both walked along the grass, not on the walkway.

Near the front door, a black cat waited.

“A stray. Five A.M. is when feral cats hunt. Way too small to be Louie,” Temple whispered to Matt.