Cat In An Indigo Mood

Chapter 61

Wheels

I must admit that I did not think much of Miss Midnight Louise's master plan.

But I did not have much time to argue, it being plain that Mr. Matt Devine was going ahead with a master plan of his own, with no regard for my carefully laid devices. The fact that he was totally ignorant of them is no excuse. People are all too often oblivious to the machinations of the superior species. In most cases, that is to our advantage.

Anyway. this hair-brain shirt-tail relation of mine has come up with a risky, arduous, and pretty impossible scheme.

Naturally, I am all for it (mainly because the snip thinks that l cannot do it at my age and weight").

So here is what we have been through.

First, she and our surprise package have to get to the Circle Ritz. Let me tell you, I take plenty of heat hearing about how hard that was. I have to admit the package looks pretty warped around the edges.

Next, we have to break into the locked shed in which is stored that awesome Hesketh Vampire motorcycle. (I call it Hesky for short. Rhymes with Pesky.) This collector's edition chromium critter is previously owned by Max Kinsella himself. (I cannot guarantee that in that instance it was "gently used.") Since then it has been in the custody of Miss Eiectra Lark, the Speed Queen landlady of the Circle Ritz. Out of the goodness of her heart (of which there is much of both: goodness and heart), she has of late lent it to Mr. Matt Devine, who came into this world (Las Vegas, that is) without wheels, a grievous lack in this flat-out, salt-flat part of the country.

So, anyway, Mademoiselle Louise and I dull our nails on the weaker members of the shed's boards until we are inside the shadowed interior. I have left a lot of shiv casings behind, but far be it from me to cavil when it might be interpreted as whining by Miss Midnight Louise!

Then we have to breech the accessory storage bags that sit to either side of Hesky's saddle.

At least they are the black-leather variety, rather than those meat-locker-style metal jobbies that could smother a hitchhiker of the furred kind.

For that is our mission: undercover hitchhikers on the road to Truth or Consequences.

I would hate to arrive asphyxiated, as l stress repeatedly to Miss Midnight Louise.

"Save your breath, Pops." she replies, not encouragingly. "You will need it."

"Where is the safety belt in this arrangement?" I ask when we have loaded our cargo, such as it is, and leaped into our saddlebags.

"Loop your tail around e strap and hold on: It is going to be a bumpy ride."

I recognize the Bette Davis line (that dame had lion-eyes), as well as the reference to early air travel. Since the Hesketh Vampire is a motor vehicle, I sincerely hope that we remain firmly on the ground.

All I can trust to is the solid driving skills of Mr. Matt Devine.

Who will be highly distracted tonight, on an undercover mission of his own.

Why could he not pilot a bicycle? It worked for E.T.

That is my last rational thought before I hear the shad padlock unlocked and the footsteps of Mr. Matt Devine approaching.

After that all is a turmoil of speed bumps, speed, noise, speed bumps, and confusion.

We arrive in one piece, which is pretty good, as there are three of us.

The next problem is breaking into the joint, and when to make our entrance.