Cat In A Topaz Tango

A Perfect Barbie Doll

Molina watched the walking Barbie doll bounce offstage toward the wings, not at all subdued by the anxious ending to the final adult dance, the egocentric glee of youth personified. She needed to get back to deal with the major mishap situation, but knew Rafi would be on it, a surprisingly soothing idea.

Meanwhile, she had to find out how a living Barbie doll had ended up center stage at the kind of event that drew a stalker who was leaving a wide swath.

“That went over great,” Sou-Sou bubbled at her, jiggling with teen hyperactivity. “My makeup number and costume was even cooler than the first one. Did you see it? Did you?”

Molina nodded, not to Sou-Sou but to Dirty Larry, whose firm grip held Sou-Sou’s mother in check from the same theatrics as her daughter.

Scattered metal folding chairs for waiting performers caught Molina’s eye.

“Let’s all sit a bit and talk,” she suggested.

Dirty Larry started rounding up chairs and seating Smiths on them.

“You’re with Ms. Ozone’s manager,” Mrs. Smith realized. “Oh, my Sou-Sou is an up-and-coming client for you. That Ozone girl is getting too old.”

“I’m her manager’s assistant, but this is Officer Podesta of the Las Vegas police. I’m helping ask some questions. How did Sou-Sou happen to wear a Barbie doll getup?”

“Well,” Mrs. Smith seesawed her ample behind into place on the skimpy metal seat. “That was my idea. I act as her manager. Glad you liked it. Barbie is an icon, and that’s what I want Sou-Sou to become. I even had some Polaroids taken before her entrance, if you want to see them—” She reached into her garish yellow purse.

“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Smith,” Larry said. “What I need to know is why you dressed Sou-Sou that way? Anything trigger the idea?”

“Nooo.” She set her purse on the floor. “I’m just creative. Maybe I saw something in the paper about Barbie dolls being found at shopping malls, but it doesn’t take much to stimulate my brain.”

“Those Barbie dolls found that way might be calling cards for a predatory killer of young girls, ma’am,” Larry said. “You couldn’t have done a better job than we would in setting your daughter up as a decoy.”

“Oh. Oh!”

Sou-Sou’s eyes were pie-plate round.

“Better get that outfit off of her pretty quick,” Molina told the mother. “These dirty tricks are no joke, and your daughter is already the victim of one.”

“You mean,” Mrs. Smith asked, “a killer could be loose?”

Before either Molina or Larry could answer, a strange metal trolling sound came into their midst.

Everyone glanced at the black-painted stage floor. A small metal canister with a red cap was wobbling among their circled feet. A large black cat had joined their circle, one paw still lifted like a golfer holding up his club while waiting to see his shot land on the distant green.

The cat was positioned next to an open scarlet purse that now lay on its side, the contents spilling out, Polaroid photos, lipstick tube, nail file.

Larry bent to bag the rolling tube. “Pepper spray, Mrs. Smith? From your purse? We think that was used to doctor Sou-Sou’s shoes the other night. Another creative idea?”

“Oh.”

“Moth-er!” her daughter accused with a screech. “That hurt!”

“Lots of women carry pepper spray,” Mrs. Smith insisted, bending to stuff the items back into her purse.” She held out an imperious hand to Larry, open. Her fingers were trembling and Sou-Sou was standing, pouting rebelliously.

Molina nodded.

He slapped it into her waiting hand. “That was child endangerment, ma’am. I’ve got bigger game to track here but you try anything further like this and your daughter will be blackballed on the dance circuit. Now get her out of that Barbie outfit and burn it.”

The pair scuttled away, sounds of shrill recrimination echoing from the hall outside.

Molina looked around for the cat. It was gone. Of course.

“I’ve got to get back to the main event,” she told Larry. “Looks like this Barbie connection was just a coincidence.”

He nodded.

“I’m not certain your being here is one, though.”

“You mean where? Near the stage?” She was silent. “In the hotel, on this case? Yeah, I sorta assigned myself. I’m not useful?”

“Yes, you make yourself useful. Too useful. I’m not sure why and I’m thinking you don’t want me to know why. “

“You really don’t think a man would simply be attracted to you? You have lost yourself in your job, Carmen.”

“And you haven’t, undercover man?”

“I’m on leave from that.”

“Don’t fool me and you won’t fool yourself. You’re still working undercover and you’re using me to do it. I’m seeing things a lot more clearly now. Sometimes friends look like enemies and enemies like friends. Which one are you?”

He stepped close, his voice low and intense. “I’m your friend. Really I am. You don’t know how much.”

Was it a promise, or a threat? She didn’t know but she would, eventually.

“You showed up on the scene of the local Barbie doll killing, and here you are still today, pushing your way into my investigations. What? You want to make me or to make detective? Or something else?”

“You are so wrong.”

“Again? Is that the unsaid ending? I have been wrong and I may be wrong again, but right now I have a choice of dumping you or watching you, and I prefer the latter.”