Cat in an Indigo Mood

Chapter 33

Undercover Cat

It is a pain in the footpads to wend my way back to the deceased's neighborhood, but it cannot be helped.

The "help" needs looking in on.

I find Miss Midnight Louise lounging in the shade by the string of oleanders behind the house, not far from the, uh. place where we deposited the late lamented Wilfrid.

"How is the work detail going, kit?" I ask nonchalantly.

"It stinks," she snarls.

"Yes, well, that is to be expected. Has the widow been coming around?"

"The widow! They were never formally hitched. It was what you could call a common-paw marriage, and Wilfrid's paw was the more common one."

"Shh. Speak not against the dead departed."

Miss Midnight Louise snorts. "What a charade! I must languish here chit-chatting with mourning females while you are out turning the mean streets topsy-turvy with your so-called master plan. I bet you are taking it easy at the Crystal Phoenix while I broil out here with nothing to eat but lizards."

"The weather is not that hot yet."

"Neither is the lunch line."

I shrug. For once Midnight Louise has a just complaint. I imagine the honor guards for the Unknown Soldier sometimes feel so put upon. Despite the importance of their duty, it is mostly symbolic.

"You know that I am counting on you to do the appropriate thing when the time comes."

"But when will the time come?"

"When I say so. Now, is the . . . project coming along?"

"Somewhat," she grouses, "it is like a watched pot. It takes much supervision and produces scant results. And then I must make Girl Talk with Miss Fanny. Who, by the way, has been asking about the details of your colorful career."

"Oh, really?" I do not mean to preen, but my bib needs a washing, so I do it.

"Do not get your chest-hairs in a wad, Daddio Lothario. I have been filling her shell-like little pink ears with examples of your mate chauvinist exploits."

"Louise!"

"Do not worry. The little twit actually is impressed by your feeble attempts at self-glorification. Females!"

"I take it that 'females' are a step down from the empowered 'girls?' "

"You will take it whatever way you like, I know that." Midnight Louise sighs and examines her shapely gams, which are stretched in front of her so she resembles that fierce Egyptian figure called a sphinx. "I suppose they also serve who sit and wait, but I am not taking this assignment well. I am used to running my own show."

"But you are! Your presence here is vital, as time will tell."

"I hope so, because if this all comes to naught, I will feel obliged to vent my spleen. You, naturally, will be the most convenient venting post."

She stretches out her pearl-pale nails. unsullied by any colored lacquer. They are as sharp and pointed as the stakes you would nail a vampire with.

I have not seen the insidious Hyacinth of late, she of the curare nail polish, but If claw came to slash. I would not count Miss Midnight Louise out on a one-on-one with anything. Not In the current mood in which I have put her.

If only she saw her honorable role in my master plan clearly.

But she does not.

That is why it is my master plan, and why I am the master.

Before I leave, I throw her one crumb to chew on.

"I may need you to desert your post for a while to aid in another of my master plans."

Her ears perk. "Does it involve danger?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I am your girl."

"Uh, yeah. Maybe."