Cat On A Hyacinth Hunt

Chapter 51

Louie Takes Stock

What a miserable kettle of carp this is!

I hear it all with my own two ears, which have been fanning this way and that to catch every tidbit of meaning that was passed out over the appetizing image of Miss Kitty the Cutter O'Connor. She is certainly an object lesson on the fact that a beautiful visage can hide a shrunken soul. I am also thinking of the svelte but treacherous Hyacinth. No doubt she will be as vengeful as Miss Kitty when she realizes that she has forever lost the sensual services of the only feline sleuth in Las Vegas who is licensed to thrill without any untoward aftereffects, like kitty litters.

And now I learn that I too may be an object of enmity. Well, at least I have had a good longtime to study the image of my stalker.

I must admit that I was impressed by Mr. Matt Devine's calm and cogent summary of the facts. Someone must make Mr. Max Kinsella wake up and smell the chloroform. He was so busy trying to escape his immediate past that he overlooked the distant. I would be inclined to look with even more disfavor on his reentry into my darling Miss Temple's life, except that I must admit I owe him for springing me from my fate before I was sent away into a life of enforced fun

... I mean, sensual servitude.

Of course, everyone present, in fearing for Miss Temple's safety, has overlooked my own humble contributions to this state in the past. Although I myself am now apparently a marked dude, I have often walked hackles to hindquarters with danger, and it will take more than a little doll with a barbering degree from Sweeney Todd to scare the starch out of Midnight Louie.

So I settle down into my haunches to keep an eagle eye on my little doll as she consoles Mr.

Max for the sins of his past by encouraging more of the same sort of excess in his future.

Perhaps my vigilance will make the lovebirds nervous, but that is just too darn bad.

Wait until Mr. Max discovers my plans for nighttime guard duty over Miss Temple.