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For all those who bring these wise and “ancient aliens”
called cats into their homes and hearts,
nine dimensions are not enough.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Previously in Midnight Louie’s Lives and Times …
Chapter 1:
Conduct Unbecoming
Chapter 2:
Phoning Home
Chapter 3:
Ménage à Murder
Chapter 4:
Home Alone
Chapter 5:
Wynning Number
Chapter 6:
Louie Has His Ups and Downs
Chapter 7:
Stunted!
Chapter 8:
Unlawful Entry
Chapter 9:
Close Encounter
Chapter 10:
Mother Ship
Chapter 11:
Nightcrawlers
Chapter 12:
Open Arms
Chapter 13:
Graveyard Shift
Chapter 14:
The Thin White Line
Chapter 15:
Slugfest
Chapter 16:
Dead on Paradise
Chapter 17:
Short Stack
Chapter 18:
Law and Order: Crimeshoppers
Chapter 19:
Honeymooners
Chapter 20:
The French Connection
Chapter 21:
Let Them Eat Crow
Chapter 22:
A Fine and Secret Show
Chapter 23:
All at Sea
Chapter 24:
Law and Order: Truce or Consequences
Chapter 25:
Romance on the Rocks
Chapter 26:
Going, Going, Going, Gone … Viral
Chapter 27:
We Are Not Alone
Chapter 28:
The Unusual Suspects
Chapter 29:
Fringe Benefit
Chapter 30:
Fallout
Chapter 31:
Short Stuff
Chapter 32:
Identity Crisis
Chapter 33:
Synth You’ve Been Gone
Chapter 34:
Law and Order: LVMPD
Chapter 35:
Black Ops
Chapter 36:
Stunt Double
Chapter 37:
Bad News Bearer
Chapter 38:
Body Double
Chapter 39:
Murder Ménage II: Naked Came the Clue
Chapter 40:
Frank Talk
Chapter 41:
Northern Exposure
Chapter 42:
Track of the Cat
Chapter 43:
Cat Tails
Chapter 44:
Cop Shop Talk
Chapter 45:
Murder Ménage III: The Thirteenth Sign
Chapter 46:
Max’s Midnight Hour
Chapter 47:
Falling for You
Chapter 48:
After the Fall
Chapter 49:
Left Behind
Chapter 50:
Night Stalkers
Chapter 51:
Hit Me with Your Best Shot
Chapter 52:
Astral Protection
Chapter 53:
Two Close for Comfort
Chapter 54:
Cat and Mouser
Tailpiece:
Midnight Louie Discusses Alien Species
Tailpiece:
Carole Nelson Douglas Goes to the Dogs
By Carole Nelson Douglas from Tom Doherty Associates
About the Author
Copyright
Previously in
Midnight Louie’s Lives and Times …
Las Vegas is my beat.
I love this rambling, gambling entertainment capital with its super-sized dose of lights, action, and cameras—security or otherwise.
The lights … the security and tourist cameras … and the action remain as bright and frenetic as always. Our landmark hotel-casinos and allied institutions are still puttin’ on the glitz.
For a Las Vegas institution, I have always kept a low profile.
You do not hear about me on the nightly news. That is how I like it. That is the way any primo PI would like it. The name is Louie, Midnight Louie. I am a noir kind of guy, inside or out and about. I like my nightlife shaken, not stirred.
Being short, dark, and handsome … really short … gets me overlooked and underestimated, which is what the savvy operative wants anyway. I am your perfect undercover guy. I also like to hunker down under the covers with my little doll. So would some other guys, but they do not have my lush hirsute advantages.
Miss Temple Barr and I make perfect roomies. She tolerates my wandering ways. I play her bodyguard without getting in her way. Call me Muscle in Midnight Black. We share a well-honed sense of justice and long, sharp fingernails and have cracked some cases too tough for the local fuzz. She is, after all, a freelance public relations specialist, and Las Vegas is full of public and private relations of all stripes and legalities.
Our most recent crime-busting adventure took us deep into a conspiracy of magicians that resulted in a string of murders being solved, while some remain unsolved.
That Neon Nightmare club, now shut down, was also the site of a key incident in this ongoing tangle. That event was a shakedown, not a murder. And—I must blush to admit, if I ever do anything as wimpy as blush—I was not there to witness this event, in the course of protecting my Miss Temple. I hear on good authority that two takeover thugs (wearing concealing masks and cloaks à la Mr. Darth Vader of film fame) crashed a meeting of the conspiring magicians who called themselves “the Synth.” The pair demanded at gunpoint the Synth members present hand over a hoard of concealed cash. In my absence, the Las Vegas feral cat pack, led by Miss Midnight Louise (no relation) made the invading pair into props for an Olympics-level scratching post claw-down. The Vaders fled, trailing blood, but remain anonymous.
So, there is much private investigative work left for me to do, as usual.
Then you get into the area of private lives. I say you get into that area. I do not. I remain aloof from these alien matters among humans. Why can they not be sensible and let Mother Nature or a visit to the vet for what is called “altering” arrange these things? Or resort to breeders, aka “matchmaking sites,” if you are of the tony, pedigreed sort? While it is important that humans assist in discouraging the overpopulation of our kind, when it comes to their own mating behavior, there is an overpopulation of indecision and angst.
I do not see how having two perfectly adequate males as a selection for one’s life mate is a problem. If, unlike me, you have not had the happy procedure that allows me to be a bon vivant simultaneously entertaining multiple dating possibilities whilst not littering irresponsibly … you are out of luck, so get over it and go monogamous for life. Otherwise, I can recommend a good surgeon who tosses in a free tummy tuck with the deal.
I cannot give away the more intimate details of my roomie’s life. Let me just say that everything it seemed you could bet on is now up for grabs and my Miss Temple may be in the lose–lose situation of her life and times.
Here is the current status of where we are all at:
None can deny that the Las Vegas crime scene is big time, and I have been treading these mean neon streets for twenty-five books now. I am an “alpha cat.” Since I debuted in Catnap and Pussyfoot, I commenced to a title sequence that is as sweet and simple as B to Z.