“So we figured,” Matt said, “our families can come to Vegas. My Polish Catholic relatives will love OLG as a site.”
“My family would be all right with a wedding chapel in Vegas or a cathedral somewhere else, so they’d be getting a bit of both.”
“An excellent compromise. I see you’ve thought this out. Families can fly from both cities, meet here, and share the Las Vegas tourist opportunities.”
“We’ll be disappointing our beloved landlady,” Temple said, “who takes credit for providing the place that we met, the Circle Ritz. She also operates the Lover’s Knot Wedding Chapel.”
“Ah, Las Vegas,” mused Father Hernandez. “Commerce is king. Now for the wedding date.” He pulled out a calendar the size of a college annual, paging forward rapidly. “And of course we must book the pre-Cana classes, and announce the banns.”
“Ah…” said Temple.
“A Christmas wedding would be nice,” Father Hernandez said, twinkling again, which was most disconcerting. “Your red hair would be right in season.”
“Father,” Matt interrupted. “Her red hair is always in season with me.” Matt sounded quite definite. “We’ve decided to get married now because—this is quite confidential—Temple and I are embarking on a whole new career together, right here in Vegas, and we’ll have no time to get married that late in the year.”
“Oh, but these things can’t be rushed. Our Lady of Guadalupe is not a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel.”
“Certainly not,” Temple said, “We’re thinking of an evening ceremony so no regular church services are affected. And with my Crystal Phoenix connections, I can pull together a family influx and a gala reception in no time.”
“‘In no time’? But the Church advises—”
“I’ve done pre-Cana counseling for years, Father,” Matt said. “And Temple’s a very quick study, as you note. If you like, we can do the eight-hour online course.”
“Online course,” the priest echoed, dazed.
“You know,” Matt continued, “how much heart and heroism Temple has, when she almost died helping your elderly parishioner and when the convent nuns were being stalked by a profane anonymous caller and poor Peter, the convent cat, was almost crucified like the Disciple he was named for.
“Yes,” Matt went on relentlessly, “our religious backgrounds are a world apart, but the sense of ethics we learned from our families and faiths jibe like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.”
Father Hernandez cleared his throat and looked at Temple. “UU, Unitarian Universalist, you say. Uh, of course no extreme sectarian atrocities have ever been committed by that, er, sort of…non-faith.”
“I must admit,” Temple said in a small voice quite atypical for her. “I’m something of a fallen-away UU.”
While Father Hernandez contemplated how one could be “fallen-away” from a faith that did not even require acknowledgement there was a God, Matt again intervened.
“So there’s still hope, Father.”
The priest threw up his hands. “My failure to keep up with my times before caused a lamentable lapse on my part in the recent past. Who am I to judge, as our Pope Francis has said with commendable humility.”
He glanced at Temple with a smile. “I first remember you bringing your black cat to the blessing of the animals here. St. Francis was a joyous saint, the patron of all living things. When I heard the new pope had taken that name I knew a new era was upon us. A badly needed era.
“Go in peace and in your own time, my children. OLG and I are at your service. We will schedule for your needs and I will try to live up to your faith in each other and me.”
“Wow,” Temple said as they walked down the stone steps on the way out, “a quickie church wedding. His conversion to our cause almost made me cry. We kind of ran roughshod over him.”
“That’s the way the future goes. Are you sure can pull off a wedding by next Friday?” Matt asked.
“You’d be surprised. I’ve got the Crystal Phoenix’s crack wedding team behind me. The groom just has to show up there to be fitted for your tux in the next four days. How does a honeymoon in San Diego sound?”
“Great. I’ll notify Letitia.” Matt liked the idea that keeping Temple busy and dealing with other people and them getting out of town for a while would cool down the Woody stalking situation. Temple and her impetuosity train were gearing up to full speed and he was ready to stop worrying and enjoy the ride.
“Oh, do you have the rings?” she asked.
“I bought them at the same time I bought your engagement ring. You have two guard rings and I have the usual tasteful but boring gold band.”
“Really! You were that sure of me!”
“I was in an agony of doubt, even about the appropriateness of rubies,” he said, taking her hand and watching the rubies and diamonds flash in the sunlight. “The three rings were a wedding set, so I decided to be optimistic.”
“I can’t wait to see them. At the ceremony. Just get me to the church in time.”
Matt grabbed her hand and they ran down the last four steps, breathless and laughing at the bottom.
“You know,” Temple said, gazing around the quiet neighborhood. “Let’s peek in at the church again. It’s been a while since I’ve been a customer.”
“What a way to put it! This way, ma’am.”
When they stood before the brick-and-stone façade, Temple tilted her head back. “The church building seems smaller than I remembered, but there are more steps to climb.”
“And to run down to our waiting Gangsters limo,” Matt said.
“I wonder which model they’ll choose for us?”
“You’re not ordering a certain one?”
“No. I want to be surprised,” Temple said, extending a hand to lead him up the steps.
Going through the heavy wooden front doors immersed them in a cool, dim silent, soaring space. Their footsteps broke the skin of that silence and yet also empowered it.
Matt noticed that Temple dropped her voice to a whisper without thinking. “Look. I’d forgotten how the sunlight shattered the stained glass windows into a multi-color kaleidoscope effect on the floor and pews. like tiny jewels dissolving on the tiles.”
“You UUs miss out on a lot of special effects,” Matt teased her.
“Did I ever miss out. I see I am Goldilocks. Our Lady of Guadalupe is not too big or too small, but just my size. Like the amazing gown I’ve found, which will be your surprise.”
“I’ve never been surprised by the amazing things you accomplish,” Matt said.
They approached the altar on the center aisle.
Said Temple, slowing down to play the part. “I have to make the long, slow approach in perfect time to the music while you slink onstage with a few steps from the sidelines.”
“At least I’m not going to be imported by a Fontana Brother in a pet carrier, like our esteemed Ring Bearer.”
“Poor Louie. He so hates that collar! Still, he looks so handsome in white bow-tie and tails, as you will.”
Temple studied the sanctuary as she would a stage set, which amused Matt.
“Four steps up to the altar,” she muttered. “Lots of space for our small wedding party to stand. And there’s Our Lady of Guadalupe at the back behind and above everything, with her image framed in a fretwork of gold leaf.”
Temple turned to Matt as if he were a docent. “She’s a darker skinned Central American native interpretation of the Virgin Mary, isn’t she?”
Matt nodded. “The legend and the image’s seventeenth-century origins have been controversial, but she appeared to a poor peasant, first speaking an Aztec language, it was said, so she bridged the native Indians and conquering Spaniards. That’s why her Mexico City church is the third most visited sacred site in the world.”
“I love her serene face and star-spangled blue-green cloak. So that’s why the travertine of the altar has inset designs of carnelian and turquoise, really common in Mexican jewelry to this day.
And the hanging red light above?”
“The sanctuary lamp,” he explained. “It burns forever, showing that a consecrated host is housed in the tabernacle behind the altar. Listen, I’m sure Father Hernandez would be ecstatic to have me explain Catholicism 101 to you, but I’m also sure that busy brain of yours has many secular details to attend to.”
And he had his own underlying worries that were in danger of ruining the happiest time of his life.
“Yes, we should go,” Temple said. “This will be a small and intimate wedding, but it will have a stunning After Party.” She took Matt’s hand. “I’ve invited both Winslow brothers and their wives, so both your parents will be there, known only to us four, of course.”
“Temple!” Matt turned away.
“Matt?” Temple sounded panicked. Was she thinking he’d be angry?
His fingers tightened on hers. When he turned back, his eyes stung, from the bright sunlight, of course.
“Temple, you’re incredible. We’ve talked about that, but you’ve made the best wedding gift for me in the world come true, that I could never dream of doing myself. When I say these vows, not even eternity will end them.”
“Really? I’d hoped, but it was…presumptuous of me.”
“If you weren’t a presumptuous PR hussy, I wouldn’t love you as much.”
“So. Then. You won’t be upset if I confess that I also invited Mr. and Mrs. Patrick Kelly—”
He frowned, trying to place the unknown name.
Temple gulped. “…and Mr. and Mrs. Kevin Kinsella.”
He couldn’t help looking shocked.
“Too,” she added.
“Incredible.” He blinked again. “Instead of us going to Racine, you brought the shattered family to us. We’re going to do an intervention at the reception.”
“Privately.”
“That means Mr. Max Kinsella is lurking somewhere in the neighborhood.”
“Hunting the IRA treasure with my maps. I think it’s a matter of life and death, but, of course, he wouldn’t say that.”
“So how did you manage to invite two couples we don’t know to our wedding?”
“I lured them onto Skype and made a pitch about poor Max’s memory loss and how he’s a friend of ours, and seeing them all here might help him. Quite true.”
“You convinced, conned, complete strangers, they think, to fly to our wedding to reunite with their lost black-sheep son and nephew?”
“Of course the Crystal Phoenix is footing the bill for all flights and suites. It’s Van and Nicky’s wedding present to me. Us.”
Temple paused. “And I also invited Mr. and Mrs. Sean Kelly from Northern Ireland.”
“Ah,” Matt said. “‘Sean of the Dead’, back again. Now I understand. You made those three couples an offer they couldn’t refuse and have designed a situation I can’t refuse, nor can Max. It’s fiendish, Temple. Simply fiendish. And I’m the designated driver.”
“It’s good practice for our new TV show.”
“Could turn into an ‘After Party’ from Hell.”
“I hope it turns out to be a Happily Ever After Party for everyone,” Temple said. “I—
Oh, that reminds me! I want to drop in on the convent and invite the nuns personally. I have an e-vite list, but they probably don’t do email or texting.”
“You may be right. I’ll check the church again and meet you outside in a bit.”
“While you’re here, thank the Virgin for getting you to me.”
He nodded.
Her short but brisk high-heeled departing steps clattered like hail on the tiles. For the wedding, a carpet would make her step as silent as a ghost’s.
Inside the church again, Matt shivered in the cool silence. He genuflected out of habit and then approached the altar with new eyes. Yes, the Virgin of Guadalupe watched over everything with her prayerful, maternal gaze. Including the altar.
Matt kneeled in front of it, as he had kneeled once to become a priest. Yes, he was right. The central design, carved in low relief from an impressive chunk of turquoise, was the humped serpent symbol of the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl.
And the signature of Clifford Effinger’s work for the mob.
It was lucky Temple had given her groom a simple suit-fitting to accomplish in the next four days. He would have ample time to find out why investigating the Effinger clan, both then and now, was proving so dangerous.
17
Holy Cats
“I think we need to go to church,” I tell Miss Midnight Louise, intending to shock her.
We of the cat persuasion are not notable pew occupiers. They are usually made of uncushioned wood and hard on the back (and also the soft underbelly).
And some of us remain faithful to the ancient goddess of our kind, Bast, who lent her noble feline head and fancy headdress to a slinky Egyptian woman attired during a time of an apparent linen shortage in the Nile delta and standing twenty feet tall. The younger generation are not so observant of the old ways.
“I applaud the idea,” Miss Midnight Louise says, shocking me. “I assume you have a Catholic Church in mind, since you can confess all your many sins there.”
“So much for your assumptions. It is not called Confession anymore, but the Sacrament of Reconciliation.”
“Sounds like a mealy-mouthed substitute. How do you know all this churchy stuff?”
“My Miss Temple brought me to a Blessing the Animals ceremony at Our Lady of Guadalupe shortly after we first hooked up together.”
“I also was there and blessed, but as ‘Caviar’, a Humane Society cat. Thankfully, I did not notice you there at the Big Moment. But your Miss Temple quipped I could be ‘Midnight Louise’. And so they sadly named me after you when I became the Crystal Phoenix unofficial house detective. How could you forsake the Las Vegas Strip and the run of the entire Crystal Phoenix hotel and grounds to share a second-story flat with a nosy Nelly who cannot even decide which high heel shoe to wear, much less which man to marry.”
“At least she has a choice. Females of our kind are at the mercy of their hormones.”
“Exactly why I was thrilled to be ‘fixed’.”
I just shake my head. “I too am ‘fixed’, but by a fancy human procedure that leaves my anatomy intact in all its original glory, yet unable to sire unwanted kits.”
“Yes, you have a smidge of political correctness. Not voluntarily, though. I assume you wish to visit the scene of the forthcoming crime.”
“By ‘forthcoming crime’, I assume you are referring to the wedding.” I hiss out a sigh. “Yes, I heard at home a few nights ago it is a done deal. Miss Temple will marry Mr. Matt at Our Lady of Guadalupe. They will honeymoon in San Diego and stay at the Crystal Phoenix afterward while their respective rooms at the Circle Ritz are combined into one larger unit.”
Miss Midnight Louise’s golden eyes squint at me sideways. “And where do you plan to live after all this ceremony and during reconstruction? In the Circle Ritz parking lot? Do not expect to move in on my territory. Your day as unofficial house detective at the Crystal Phoenix is done. You abdicated the job to me. Looks like you are homeless again, Pop. That is human loyalty for you. Maybe Ma Barker will let you sleep in the basement of her favorite abandoned house.”
“Tut, tut, Louise,” I manage to mutter in a calm tone. “It will all work out. Meanwhile, we both know unsavory individuals are circling our human friends. Time to hie our hides to Our Lady of Guadalupe.”
“Lucky,” says Miss Midnight Louise as we watch from behind an oleander bush while the white van zooms away on to its next stop, “that the church linen service truck happened to be passing so we could slip inside during the next delivery. It will take a week to get the odor of starch out of my sensitive nostrils.”
“Luck, my rabbit’s foot. I have been staking out the place. I calculated the routine.”
“And we dropped off at the convent. The church is around the corner.”
“Ironic,” say I, “that a lau
ndry service provided us transportation, given that those hateful laundry asylums for fallen women and girls unleashed Miss Kathleen O’Connor on all our friends.”
“‘Miss’ Kathleen is it now? She does not deserve the courtesy, but she did deserve the four-shiv right-cross to the face you marked her with when she tried to shoot Mr. Matt. That was a righteous move.”
“Why, thank you, Louise. You are mellowing in your full young adulthood, like our Miss Mariah.”
“At least I remember where I am going. Where are you going? The church is that way.”
I look over my shoulder. “I am heading to the convent garden. I am a nature lover. I am also here to see a cat about a surveillance job. He owes me one.”
“One what?”
“One of his nine lives.”
Louise looks shocked at last.
So I am first to bound over the concrete fence. By the time she has followed me to a blazing sunny spot on a bench beside the convent’s back door, two well-fed middle-aged cats, plain yellow tabbies, spotless white paws, but other than formal gloves no marks of distinction, like my white whiskers on formal black. Nevertheless, these guys are swarming me like their long-lost littermate.
“Come on, boys.” I shrug them off. “It is too hot for the one-paw Hollywood littermate hug routine.
“Peter,” I nod to one, “and Paul. This is a young apprentice of mine, Miss Midnight Louise.”
“Wow. Is this trim little number any relation to you?” Paul asks. Unfortunately. The boys direct their greeting sniffs and sideswipes to her.
“No,” I say.
“Not acknowledged,” Louise hisses back.
“Oh, you poor dear girl.” Peter casts rebuking yellow eyes at me. “I am named for one Simon Peter, who denied a storied relationship in the Garden of Gethsemane. I cannot in all good conscience recommend doing that.”
“Now you get a conscience, Peter,” I point out with my first shiv waggling. “Miss Midnight Louise was named after me by humans who thought it would be ‘cute’. There is no genetic proof.”
Cat in an Alphabet Endgame: A Midnight Louie Mystery (The Midnight Louie Mysteries Book 28) Page 15
