Cat in a Jeweled Jumpsuit

Now, though, for the first time she had a permanent, floating client. The Crystal Phoenix Hotel and Casino was "the classiest little hotel in Vegas," and it behoovedher to alert the management that their maybe-Elvis sighting had eerie links to another Las Vegas hotel. Temple took the phrase "conflict of interest" very seriously. Aldo had phoned to report that the workmen were settling down now that they had decided their iridescent apparition had been only Elvis. Elvis, it seems, was the ghost most likely to be welcomed anywhere.

When Temple arrived at Van von Rhine's ultra-modern office, Nicky Fontana, the other half of the marriage and management team, was lounging in a massive leather executive chair that Van allowed to spoil her Euro-sleek decor because he liked it.

Nicky was as darkly delicious to behold as his suite of brothers, but was a hair shorter and much less laid back.

“What's this about the King?" he asked the minute Temple arrived. "Has our underground Jersey Joe Jackson mine ride really got an unearthly infestation?" "I seriously doubt it." Temple perched on a chromeand-leather chair. "But Elvis is in the air right now, with the imminent opening of the Kingdome.”

Nicky nodded sagaciously. That'` what one got to do when one ran a major Las Vegas resort destination. Temple squirmed in the hard-edged chair. "Odd things are happening at the Kingdome itself. An acquaintance of mine says her daughter, who's playing Priscilla Presley for the Elvis impersonator opening competition, has been getting threats, possibly from Elvis-loving Priscilla-haters."

“What can you do about it?" Van wanted to know. "Me, not much. But"—she glanced at Nicky—"I was hoping to borrow your brothers. Quincey is only sixteen, and her sort-of stepfather is that 'Buchanan's Broadside' reporter for the Las Vegas Scoop. He'll emcee the Elvis competition, and is the same creep who involved the girl as a pose-down model in the romance cover hunk competition last fall."

“Sixteen? A 'pose-down' model? Sounds sleazy," Van commented with the indignation of the relatively new mother of a baby girl.

“Quincey was actually just fifteen then—"

“Of course you can have Nicky's brothers!" Van was bristling now.

Nicky just toyed with the Rolex watch that kept catching on his wrist hairs as he spun the band.

“Nicky?" Van asked.

“I'm sure they'll be game." He frowned. "And I don't like an icon from their hotel showing up at our hotel just as things are getting hinky at the Kingdome." He eyed Temple. "You could check out this hot new jumpsuit joint. See if there's a reason an Elvis apparition is turning up in our basement."

“That might be dangerous," Van objected.

“Not with Fontana, Inc., on the job." Nicky grinned.

“I do worry about Quincey," Temple admitted. "I got to know her at that romance convention. Her sleazeball stepfather is always using her in his crazy schemes, and her mother isn't the type to stand up to him."

“I bet you are," Nicky said. "We should study the competition anyway."

“The opening Elvis competition isn't for a couple weeks. This Elvis sighting at the Jersey Joe site reminded me that I need to keep an eye on things here now that the construction is underway."

“Aldo said that now the workmen think their haunting is just Elvis, they're flattered. They're working up a storm to impress the King.”

Temple shook her head. "I doubt I can take the undiluted Elvis idolatry I'll find at the Kingdome. Besides, I owe the Phoenix so much. That retainer you've put me on is my first steady salary in three years. I could get lazy."

“Forget it." Nicky waved his Rolex wrist. "You aren't consulting just on PR stuff, you dreamed up the whole recreational re-do."

“And," Van added, leaning across her clear glass desktop, "you inspired that international conceptual artist, Domingo, to design a very arty children's area for us. I've gotten inquiries about the project from Art Forum. We're reaching an entirely new and upscale audience, thanks to you and your eclectic friends. Nicky's right. If you feel this poor little Quincey needs a chaperone, you run right over to the Kingdome for as long as necessary. We wouldn't want a daughter of ours in such a high-stress environment at that tender age.”

Temple refrained from explaining that there was nothing tender about Quincey but her age.

“I've never really liked Elvis," she confessed in a last-ditch effort to stick to duty and sacrifice satisfying her always-insatiable curiosity.

“You're in good company," Van said, sitting back. "This is business," Nicky noted. " 'Like' has nothing to do with it.”