“Thank you. I’ve written down your information and will follow up.”
“And let me know, of course, what you learn. People in our line of work are always curious.”
Garry Randolph, once known as a magician named Gandolph the Great, nodded his head, although the man on the phone’s other end couldn’t see the gesture.
“Of course I’ll let you know, Mr. Kelly, but it may be a while.” He hung up, biting his pale lower lip.
An orphanage. Talk about needles in haystacks. Not good, but he was used to dealing with orphans. And spies. And magicians.
He sighed again, and put a call through to Switzerland. Then he would call the contact in Las Vegas. While he waited to be connected, Garry brooded.
This was the most difficult assignment of his life, and perhaps would be the death of him, as Kathleen O’Connor had always been the death of so many, including herself, ultimately.
He remembered what that feisty, non-Irish redheaded love of Max Kinsella’s life had so appropriately nicknamed her, in a place and time that now seemed long ago and far away to an _old man full of duty, and doubt.
Kitty the Cutter.
Tailpiece
Midnight Louie’s Deep Purple Mood
I certainly have developed an appreciation for vivid color combinations after seeing the Ashleigh girls decked out in imperial purple and royal red.
To these traditional colors of empire are not only Red Hat Sisterhood members entitled, but all those of the feline persuasion born.
Humans, unfortunately, are a pallid lot compared to the coats of many colors, and patterns, that felines sport. Unfortunately, our human companions are also up to their hairless ears in family matters tinged with large doses of dysfunction. (Not that we of the superior species do not have a few dysfunctions of our own. But they are minor matters involving litter boxes and finicky palates.) Too many dysfunctions, however, make for crime and punishment, and I am always all too happy to lend a mitt to the crime-detecting part of the formula.
I must admit that I am most relieved that the aging females of my species do not feel obliged to make a habit out of raiding the plumage of other creatures. I imagine Ma Barker in such a getup, and shudder. She is formidable enough in her natural state. With her coat and temperament, Black is the New Blue.
While it is satisfying to have cleared Miss Electra Lark of murder charges, I am not sure I like the direction in which my domestic life is headed. I preferred the uncertain days of yesteryear, when I always had to come home wondering, Who has been sleeping in my bed?
Now I have Goldilocks, all right, but she seems to be set on eliminating all the creative tension from my existence by installing domestic bliss in the form of Mr. Matt. I confess that I no longer know who’s who and what’s what, and I think that this is a distressing state for an author to leave her collaborator in! Not to mention our loyal readers!
On the other hand, something very intriguing seems to be cooking on the international front. Could a jaunt to Ireland be in my future? I do have Irish eyes, you know. Not that they smile.
Midnight Louie, Esq.
If you’d like information about Midnight Louie’s free Scratching Post-Intelligencer newsletter and/or T-shirt and other cool things, contact him at P.O. Box 331555, Fort Worth, TX 76163-1555 or www.carolenelsondouglas.com.
Tailpiece
Carole Nelson Douglas
Foresees a Rosy Future
Louie is such a sensitive soul.
He’s deeply affected by his environment, so his human companion’s change of partners is bound to affect his mood, if not his appetite. But people are far more inconstant than cats, so he will just have to display his inborn superiority and adjust.
I would respectfully suggest that humans must resort to celebrating their age instead of ignoring it because it shows so much. Those of Louie’s persuasion don’t show their age as easily as humans. That’s the benefit of an all-over fur coat: no wrinkles. Plus, any sags and bags are always camouflaged.
As for trips abroad, Louie, I would not practice your version of “Danny Boy” on the back fence just yet.
There are plenty of hot times coming in Las Vegas, even with Max Kinsella apparently MIA or DOA and Gandolph off with the IRA. But what’s new, after all?