Cat in a Yellow Spotlight: A Midnight Louie Mystery (The Midnight Louie Mysteries Book 26) by Carole Nelson Douglas

Author:Carole Nelson Douglas [Douglas, Carole Nelson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wishlist Publishing
Published: 2014-08-26T00:00:00+00:00

27 ~ A Mother Nose

The good part is that the Crystal Phoenix celebrity suites are pretty much vacant in the late morning while White & Black are rehearsing.

The bad part of that is Ma Barker is not a morning person and complains about that from the moment I meet her at the hotel’s rear pool area, which has lots of shading greenery.

Ma Barker does not have access to time devices, so we meet at one sleeping cat’s length of shade thrown by Vegas’ most populous flowering plant, the desert-loving oleander. That is around eleven a.m. Bands also do not seem to rise until late morning so we had to wait for them to leave.

The ubiquitous oleander, with its thick pointed leaves and impressive blooms, is used for hedges and screening greenery all over town. We hip cats know, of course, not to even lick a leaf, since it is as poisonous as it is attractive. Ain’t that always the case, especially with femme fatales?

I have already checked the rooftop garden, and no oleanders are growing up there, so it is not a suspect in this case. This I tell Ma once I have escorted her inside and into the room maintenance areas, where concealing carts abound.

She sniffs the odor of assorted cleaning potions. “Some of these would be toxic.”

“They would have to be ingested in large quantities, Ma. What I am looking for is a lot more subtle.”

“I do not do ‘subtle’.”

“At one time or another, you have dived the most infamous Dumpsters along the Strip,” I tell her. “You must have detected substances humans are fond of abusing.”

“One does have to be alert for inadvertent pricks from used needles,” she says. “Even a bit of leftover crack or coke or whatever would be enough to off those of our size.”

I shudder a bit. Ma is truly an urban survivor. I have always been able to con a bed or a meal out of a human, but Ma does not trust a one of them.

“Where is the clowder you call a band?” she asks.

“They are rehearsing a show in the main floor theater. That did not go so well yesterday. If we discover a seriously bad drug, we can save the show!”

“What is this ‘we’, black cat?”

“You, Ma. Of course.”

I study the carts for the signature Black & White logo on the water glasses and bed linens Miss Van von Rhine custom ordered.

“Here is our ride.” I hop aboard the bottom level where we can hide behind plastic packs of toilet tissue. Yes, even that bears a ritzy B&W monogram.

I know we will be twelfth-floor bound soon. The hotel staff can only clean the suites when they are vacant during rehearsal time.

“So,” Ma says, curling up on the stainless steel, “we are visiting the territory of a bunch of caterwauling hopheads and faded celebs.”

“Recreational drugs are an accessory of the touring band lifestyle,” I admit. “I am looking for something more exotic, something that would make the taker go crazy.”

Ma nods.

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