33
A Peak Experience
When Temple returned from the work in progress at the Circle Ritz to her and Matt’s lovely suite at the Crystal Phoenix, she sat and thought, and shuffled pieces of paper on the handsome desk meant usually for show.
The suite had a real safe, built into a wall, not the cheesy metal boxes on hotel closet shelves, and she’d brought out the maps of the Strip and its attractions.
She got up and went to the window-wall. Her twelfth-floor suite was at an ideal height. From up here she could still see the canyons of streets and highways between the towering buildings. The darkening mountains were notched against a cloudless sunset sky on her right and the Strip lights were gaining on the coming dark on her left.
She paced. Thought. Sighed. The delicious week in San Diego had soothed away tensions from the previous whirlwind sequence of two weddings, an armed robbery attempt, a fraught multi-family reunion, and a current renovation of home, sweet, home.
Temple’s brain was now rested and revving up, getting ideas.
She still had Max on speed-dial. She felt a bit guilty for using it.
“Here comes the bride,” he announced as he answered. “What a beautiful wedding, Temple.”
“How do you know? You were invited, but you didn’t accept.”
“I was invited, but I didn’t have the bad taste to show up at the actual ceremony and general reception and have to be explained.”
“Always mystifying.”
“Always practical.”
“The doves were a nice final touch, but the Fontana boys got the credit.”
“And they’ve earned it. Besides, I had to brace myself for my command performance at your so very delicate and emotional production of A Family for All Seasons. You will be magnificent on a talk show venturing into current issues. I have never been so masterfully manipulated to be honest.”
“You know everyone in your families needed to reconcile the past.”
“Yes, yes. Very sensitive, but back to what an absolute beauty of a bride you made. I may not have recovered my memories of me, of you, of us, but I confess I felt very sorry for the poor sod who missed out on you, whether you were coming down the aisle or managing a hell of a tricky family reconciliation.”
“Catholic Confession is now called the Sacrament of Reconciliation, I’m told,” Temple said demurely. “I may not be Catholic, but I’m pro reconciliation.”
“Good for you. I may not have been apparent at the actual wedding, but that doesn’t mean I missed most of the main event at the church.”
“Not. I knew you couldn’t resist being the ghost at the banquet. Did you like my train?”
“Train? Oh, yes…killer.”
“Liar. You don’t give a whit about trains. I thought so. You were concealed up in the choir loft. You crashed my wedding too, like that skunk, Crawford Buchanan. And you were invited.”
“I appreciated that, but the best view in any theater is always from the balcony.”
“True,” Temple said, looking out at the Las Vegas view.
“We haven’t talked since the family intervention.”
“I know. It may seem crazy to call, but I’ve had a brainstorm about the puzzle of the late Effinger’s drawing and the Ophiuchus constellation.”
“As a practical man, I assume the Mister is hanging over your shoulder.”
“He should be, but the TV show producers decided they wanted copies of the pro-shot wedding tapes. The producers are here on other business, so Matt’s at the Bellagio, in their faces, discussing the limits of our public versus private lives. Get that established now or lose all control. Tony is with him.”
“Such problems,” Max teased. “Therefore you’re home alone?”
“Yes, darn it. I really need to show you what I’ve found.”
“You’re in the mood for a scandal? So soon after the wedding cake?”
“I was hoping the Mystifying Max could still disappear and reappear without a soul knowing about it.”
“Ah. A chance to use my rusty cat burglar skills. Excellent. Do unlock the balcony doors, I’ve had an emotionally fatiguing week because of an auld acquaintance not forgot. Sean and I flew to Racine before he and Deirdre flew back to Northern Ireland.”
“Their B and B sounds like a great honeymoon locale.”
Temple laughed at herself. She was planning on how she could be wicked and hook up Max and Molina. Seemed to be a bit of rivalry-attraction there.
Look at me! Temple thought. Married barely a week and already a matchmaker. Max and Molina…two tough, single, probably lonely people…what if? Then she imagined them walking down an aisle together, knew it would be at swords’ point, and laughed at herself.
Max must have lurked in the choir loft, though. Which meant that wedding singer Molina must have been a tad complicit. At the least, she hadn’t ratted him out, which would have ruined the dove bit.
Fifteen minutes later came a rapping, gently tapping on her glass balcony doors. ’Twas the raven-haired Max, and nothing more. Thank goodness.
“You climbed twelve stories?” Temple asked. “Impressive.”
“Not really. I took the elevator to the eleventh floor and managed one story. Tell me,” Max said as he closed the balcony doors behind him. “Your beloved will be understanding if he should find out about this?”
“He will. I’ll tell him. He may huff and puff a bit, but ultimately he’ll be okay with it, yes, because he’s my beloved. He knows in his heart and his bones that you’re no threat to him.”
“As well he should. He brought down Jack the Hammer. I would never mess with a guy like that. He’s really come into his own, hasn’t he?” Max said seriously. “You have that effect on people, Temple. I have yet to say that about myself, but I’m working on it.”
“Max, I was so sorry to hear you lost your house, and all your history. I loved that place.” The thought of both Max and Louie feeling homeless nagged at Temple like a hangnail you keep picking at.
“You’ve obviously been talking to Molina. That home had been tainted already. Kathleen attacked us all in that place. Threatened you. Shot Matt. Gave my noggin another memory-blasting blow. At least I remember that.”
“Are you really so…resigned?”
“No. The house being destroyed was a blow,” Max said, sitting on the sofa arm. “Don’t we all cringe when we hear the vast toll of innocent flesh ISIS takes and then it destroys the architectural legacy of all peoples of times gone by?”
Ordinarily, Max admitted to no vulnerabilities, but this was a new, more philosophical Max.
“Kathleen did it?” Temple asked, wincing.
“Who else? She never had any home, any history but a hidden and destroyed…and destroying…past. I guess she thought she was owed to do that to someone else.”
“Not ‘someone’. You. I hate her for what she did.”
“Me too. But for her acts, not for the small stubborn part of humanity she clings to.”
“That’s generous.”
“That’s what I learned from you, and Matt did too. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been working on the maze that is the Effinger murder, the IRA donations, the Synth magicians and the Ophiuchus constellation puzzle.”
“All that and getting married too?”
“Matt’s quest is ended.”
Max’s laugh was rich. “He’s the accidental hero, isn’t he? Uncovering a treasure hunt far more sinister than the mystery we’ve all been following. My God, he’s got the angels on his side for having the guts to go up against the nastiest secret killer in Vegas. You do know he was on top of it at the end like mob-buster Elliott Ness, and isn’t ’fessing up to that because it would be awkward for you and Molina?”
“Yes, all that. And I’m very proud. But my latest insight can’t wait. I’ve moved the crude Cliff Effinger drawing of the hero fighting a giant serpent that supposedly represents the thirteenth Zodiac sign of Ophiuchus, and the “house” shape of the major stars in the Ophiuchus constellation over each other on tracing paper and have had a breakthrough.”
“Can’t this wait until we can summon our Round Table to discuss our Table of Crime Elements like we used to? Matt deserves to be in on the end of the puzzle if you’ve found it. As you say, he’s way too secure to resent me anymore. Especially since I was diplomatically absent at your wedding.”
“And you could spot any brewing trouble better from up there. Did Molina know she had hidden backup?”
“You must stop thinking she knows everything.”
“She knows Kathleen burned your house down, and I didn’t know about that.” Temple frowned a little frown. “Have you been consorting with the enemy?”
“I wouldn’t call it consorting.” Max looked uneasy, not a Max Look Temple had seen before.
“Well, well, well,” Temple said. “Did Kathleen pay dearly for erasing your history like you were ancient ruins and she was ISIS when you tracked her down in Ireland?”
“Ruins! I’m not so newly humble to admit to that. All I can say is that Kathleen is not to be found in Ireland anymore.”
“You didn’t find her? I don’t believe that.”
Max shrugged. “I couldn’t say I found her peace of mind, but I found the daughter she gave up shortly after birth.”
“Daughter? Born in the Magdalene institution? Taken away from her? Oh, Hoover Dam and double damn! The poor woman. No wonder she was a crazy witch.”
“Poor girl. She escaped with her infant daughter while yet a girl herself and found a nice agnostic family to rear her. Not an easy thing to do in Ireland, believe me, to find people who are not undiluted true believers.”
“She found a UU family!”
“What passes for that over there, yes.”
“Maybe I’ll have to reevaluate her.”
“And that would be your reconciliation moment.”
Temple nodded. “Don’t judge until you walk in another woman’s…Stuart Weitzman’s.”
“For you. For her, the way Kathleen walked was thorny beyond shoes.”
“Darn it, Max. You’re making me cry for Kathleen. She stole one shoe of my best pair of heels, yet she returned it. Everything was a taunt for her.”
“Don’t cry for Kathleen. She’d hate that, and you won’t be able to show me what you found.”
All right. I want to demonstrate another radically different imposition of the Ophiuchus stars on the Las Vegas map.”
“And why not wait for your devoted spouse?”
“Because true inspiration strikes rarely and soon fades. I thought of you for that 3-D visualization a magician has. And for what I realized I saw on the marvelous altar front, and saw echoed in the nave of Our Lady of Guadalupe church.”
“So your getting married got you a glimpse of a treasure buried for three generations and clued you in on the equally long-missing IRA funds? Ironic, but the loot in the church was Ted Binions’, not IRA connected.”
“I do realize that. And Matt will be happy to come home and collect his Giacco Petrocelli memorial jackhammer and come along with me to find out, if you don’t want to.”
“Actually,” he admitted, “Binion’s stash being unearthed gave me another idea on the IRA puzzle.”
“That settles it. Max. We need one last rendezvous at the Neon Nightmare.” She stood up. “I’m wearing my capris and deck shoes, and carrying my tote for the papers. So I’m ready for a treasure hunt in a pyramid.”
His expression turned cautious, closed again. He obviously didn’t want to go there. “That place is out of business.”
“But I’m not.”
“That’s comforting, but it’s a deserted venue.”
“The best kind for kinky criminal doings. To be discreet, you can drive and meet me there.”
“Is this town still big enough for the two of us?”
“The three of us. Don’t forget Midnight Louie.”
“The three of us.”
“It’s Vegas, baby.”