Cat in a White Tie and Tails

Chapter 54

Meddling Belles

“Tell me about the wedding,” Miss Midnight Louise demands. “I understand you wore a sissy white bow tie.”

Louise has buttonholed me while I dallied in the Circle Ritz parking lot, after the wedding party saw the happy couple off to their Crystal Phoenix digs.

I do not mean my business partner literally buttonholed me, but she did stick a tiny but sharp shiv in my black velvet shoulder that gives me pause.

Girls just like to hear about weddings, even if they are fixed.

“Who has ratted on me?” I ask.

“I heard your very own roommate oohing and aahing to Miss Van Von Rhine in this very parking lot about how adorable you looked in white tie and black tail. They were giggling about you revisiting this role again soon.”

Gag me with a can of politically correct, dolphin-safe tuna. I put in my vote for all species forgetting the folderol and eloping … me with Miss Topaz from the Oasis. Now that I am playing Gossip Guy, I will confess that I am so over lion-cut shaved Persians.

“Well.” Miss Louise nudges me. “I want a complete report, down to the wearing apparel, besides yours.”

It is to yawn, but there is only one way I will be left to my own devices.

“The bride was totally drool-worthy. She wore a silky soft, tiered lace-and-ruffle dress that flared below the knee into a mermaid skirt. It was a pale peach mauve color like really diluted blood.

“The bodice featured an oversized soft chiffon bow in back, with the tails reaching all the way to her hips. A pity it will hang in her Chicago closet from now on.”

Louise is as close to swooning as I have ever seen her. “Ummm,” she purrs. “Totally climbable and clawable. A ten on the Shred Scale. What about your roommate?”

“Even better. As maid of honor she wore pale saffron—”

“Saffron?”

“We fashonistos don’t say ‘yellow.’ It was a saffron full-pleated skirt, ’50s length.”

“Oooh, the hem at calf-level, so accessible and a potential carousel of swing.”

“Unfortunately, there was no dancing afterwards. The Misses Van Von Rhine and Kit Carlson—”

“They were there?”

“Along with their spice, which is the plural of spouse, as mice is of mouse, Nicky and Aldo Fontana. Nicky was best man, and Matt led his mother down the aisle to some organ music he’d recorded earlier.”

“The standard Mendelssohn wedding march?”

“The very unstandard Bob Dylan. That music did work well. It was slow enough I got an excellent ankle-level perusal of footwear.”

Louise nods judiciously.

“Unfortunately, from groom to best man to the eight Fontana brothers in attendance, the uniform was shiny black patent loafers.”

“Hard candy,” Louise agrees. “As chewable as stale licorice twists.”

“Not worth raiding the closet for,” I concur. “Speaking of which, my Miss Temple had chosen a toothsome gold silk sandal with an Austrian crystal ankle button—”

“Glittering baby balls! So Las Vegas. Much fun, if you can detach them from the strap.”

“Miss Temple could not find both of them just before the wedding. I was falsely accused of making off with it.”

“You missed copping such a prize?”

“My role of the day was ‘little gentleman.’”

“And you wore the white-tie collar to prove it. I hope that is preserved on film and photo. Why did you not grab such a classic toy?”

“I was busy in the wedding chapel making sure that all the soft sculptures were sitting up pretty.”

“You were napping!”

“I had a very active time in Chicago, Louise. Philip Winslow wore a black tux, but all the dudes wore faint diamond-pattern tuxes in shades of gray and silver and gold, with black satin lapels to match the side stripes in their trousers and white-on-white paisley ties. Regular ties. I was the only one in a bow tie. Apparently the Fontana brothers’ Gangsters franchise can supply party garb as the well as the limos to wear it in. They all were pretty duded up, considering this was a hurry-up affair.”

“Not from what I heard in your Chicago reports. Miss Matt Mama took some long and winding roads to snagging a decent mate.”

“I meant the wedding was a hasty event, not the events leading up to it. You will remember, Louise, that had I not investigated Miss Matt Mama’s premises and sacrificed myself as handy kidnap victim to two Chicago Outfit thugs, our detecting friends would never have uncovered the Effinger connection. Makes you wonder about fate and redemption and true love.”

“Makes me wonder about your mental stability.

“I know you favor Mr. Max, but I will tell you Mr. Matt looked so good in his silver suit, Miss Temple seemed likely to make them the next couple in front of Miss Electra Lark in her black justice of the peace robes. They were a symphony in gold and silver.”

“And you were a tuxedo cat for a day.”

“For a couple of hours. I performed impeccably, by the way, when Mr. Matt bent down to unhook the wedding ring from my white tie and collar. I held still.”

“So, what was the ring like?”

“I heard Miss Kit Carlson describe it to Miss Van Von Rhine as a ‘fancy blue diamond solitaire surrounded by diamonds with a matching diamond wedding band.’ As per the usual wedding, the gemstone was outshone by the glitter in the eyes of the female guests.”

“Anymore pant-worthy details?”

“For the ceremony, which was short and sweet, all the unattached Fontana brothers sat in the pews next to Miss Electra’s soft sculpture congregation. It was interesting to see them paired with the likes of Gloria Steinem, Judge Judy, and Bette Midler.

“I, of course, cuddled up with the King, because I really did wear a ring around my neck, and I was ‘his, by heck.’ And that’s all she wrote.”