Cat In An Alien X-Ray

She turned and beamed at Matt without waiting for Kinsella’s acknowledgment. Her voice went low and intimate. “And now I get to undress you and dress you and undress you again.”

Obviously, Matt realized with relief as she kissed him long and deep, the talk they needed to have about his devil’s deal with Kathleen O’Connor was not the first thing on Temple’s wish list.

Chapter 54

Cat and Mouser

Once the happy couple had wafted away in a halo of triumph and heady scent, Max sat up in bed himself. He leaned out to yank Matt’s curtain back to its mooring and morosely eyed the empty bed and flower shelf.

His hands worried at the gauze head wrappings until they were a pile on the sheets. Maybe he could shape the unshaved hair and bald spot into a weird punk Mohawk.

He plucked at the dippy hospital gown and wondered where they’d hidden his clothes, although they were likely as bloody as Devine’s. He didn’t have a personal sprite to play wardrobe mistress and caretaker, so he’d probably have to wait until the release papers came.

Max hated being hemmed in by bureaucracy.

Measured footsteps sounded in the hall. Maybe the hand and foot of hospital authority was heading his way with his walking papers.

Someone tall and authoritative rounded the doorjamb.

“Lieutenant,” he greeted C. R. Molina. “Have you come to ‘undress me and dress me and undress me again’?”

“Hell no.” She frowned at his head and face, then eyed the empty bed. “I see I’ve been spared the mawkish departing dialogue of your likely coconspirators.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“So,” she said, “we can have a private sickbed tête-à-tête. Don’t tear up at a possible sympathy visit. I came to find out what really happened and consult on our mutual projects.”

“What?” Max asked. “You didn’t see the online digital news item? Gossip-a-Go-Go has the whole scoop ready to go into print.”

“I don’t rely on Internet little nothings. I saw the police report, and my suspicions stirred instantly.”

“What tipped you off?”

“You and Matt Devine. Together at five in the morning? You taken by surprise and conked on the head like a bloody amateur? Matt taking a gunshot, possibly in your defense? Simply not believable.”

“Granted that Devine and I were rushed off untimely on stretchers, but the police officers present seemed satisfied by our account of an armed robber surprising us.”

“They don’t know the cast list like I do. Now, I can see a certain other someone on the scene. I could maybe believe the two of you mixed it up over the affections of the ubiquitous Miss Temple Barr. Yet that’s too melodramatic. Instead, I could see you both protecting our heroine. I smell the blood of a celebrated but elusive psycho on the scene.”

By then she had paced past the foot of his bed and was at the flower shelf on Max’s side, reading the accompanying cards. “Purple and red and yellow. Rather lurid. Tony Valentine, hmm. He’s the big-time agent.”

“You make that sound like an accusation,” Max objected. “He is an agent. Mine, in fact.”

“And Matt Devine’s. My, my, my.” She bent to sniff the roses. “From a woman, of course. The intriguing Revienne Schneider you don’t trust? ‘Forever.’ And to think she just met you weeks ago. You certainly are the versatile Romeo.”

Max shrugged helplessly.

“And you succeed better with … foreign females.”

The name of Kathleen O’Connor seemed to be on the tip of her tongue, which her speculative expression had just exposed. Max had to admit he found her interrogation techniques stimulating, especially when unconscious.

Would she or wouldn’t she bring Kathleen openly into the matter?

She put the “Forever” card down on the shelf and circled his bed again. “The crime scene techs reported an odd … element in your house.”

Max raised his eyebrows.

“A number of paw prints were found in the dust atop several tables.”

“You’ve broken me, Lieutenant. I admit everything. My housekeeping skills are nil. I haven’t dusted the place since I returned from my sudden European sojourn, or even hired a service. Have mercy on me.”

She pulled the visitor’s chair from Devine’s side, sat, and folded her arms over her chest. “Additionally…”

This was interesting. Max assumed she’d now produce news that a third blood type had been spilled besides his and Matt’s. He had the common type O, but he had no idea what anyone else was.

Molina continued. “Additionally, three cat claw sheaths were found near the lone pattern of blood on the floor, which indicated drops of blood falling, not spatter from a weapon. Apparently you boys were neat and only sopped up your clothing. It would take quite a deep, targeted piercing to produce those lovely little blood blossoms. And there were cat hairs all over the place. Did Garry Randolph ever own a cat?”

“Not to my knowledge. And can anyone ever be said to ‘own’ a cat?”

“Yes. I do. Two. Both are law-abiding indoor kitties who keep their claw sheaths to themselves.”

“I’m happy for you all.”