Free Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 04 - Miami Mummies by Barbara Silkstone Page A

Northwest.
    Kit was waiting for me at the Second Act Café. He poured himself into Goldie and we headed to Coconut Grove. We were pretty quiet on the drive over. I was thinking about not being pregnant. I doubted Kit was thinking along the same lines.
    I eased my car through an alley of cute gay-yuppie shops and into a cul-de-sac of even sweeter stores and restaurants that tumbled out onto the main drag. On the second sweep of the alley I found a space. The meter ate three one-dollar bills and burped out a time-stamped ticket. I zipped back to Goldie and placed the receipt on her dashboard where it would be visible to the meter-maids.
    “Lady Merlot’s is at the end of the cul-de-sac that ties this mini-mall together. Follow me,” Kit said as he strode away. I struggled to keep up. At six-foot-four, he’s all legs and built for speed-walking even in stilettos. Focused on the cute cluster of flowered shops I stumbled over the curb and caught myself on an old-fashioned hitching post.
    Ahead was a glass-front store, every surface except for the huge panes wore a heavy coat of baby blue enamel. Basketball-sized lights dangled from long metal poles attached to the ceiling. The window display looked to be a stationery store with little do-dads and tiny boxes. The sign above the door declared Calligraphy. To the left bloomed an explosion of spring, a festival of blossoms reminiscent of something from a European flower market. The sign above the floral riot read Cat-Scans.
    “They scan cats?”
    “Uh huh.”
    “How do they—“
    “The money is in the calligraphy. After we get your cat suit I’ll treat you to a calligraphy.” He guided me to the right of the Calligraphy shop and toward a pale lavender cottage with outrageous lime-green awnings. Cursive lettering above the door read… Lady Merlot’s Ladies’ Clothes .
    Kit tweaked my elbow. “This is so exciting. I’ve always wanted a cat suit.”
    “I’m the one buying the cat suit.”
    “I’m living vicariously. The cat suit has not been made that could fit me.”
    The idea of a cat suit was beginning to concern me. If I were caught lurking in the halls of a high-rise dressed like Catwoman at midnight I’d have some ‘splainin to do, Lucy.
    “Maybe we should rethink this,” I said tugging on Kit’s arm. “I could wear black yoga pants. They’re more flexible.”
    Kit let loose with a quiet eeek . “What if you got arrested? I could never face my public if my best friend was caught wearing yoga pants to a high-class burglary. No… it’s Catherine Z, or you can’t go. I’m putting my Perry Ellis foot down.”
    Half of me was pleased. Maybe Roger and I could use the suit for role-playing.
    The proprietress of Lady Merlot’s was a Barbie-shaped dudette sweating in a fuzzy pink workout suit. Her platinum hair was pulled to the top of her noggin and held with a pink leopard scarf that screamed hair extensions. A pair of gold Gucci readers hung from a chain around her neck.
    I ran my hand over racks of what could only be described as Las Vegas vintage. Glitter tinkled to the floor. Kit was in the leather section. He grinned like a kid in a candy store.
    A hat display caught my eye. Chapeaus confiscated from Ascot or Downton Abbey . I was gently extricating a blue cloche when Kit nudged me. “These three suits are all in your size and oh so sharp.”
    He marched me to the fitting room, a former closet with a full-length mirror peeling at the edges, and a wine-colored drape for privacy.
    “Try the one with the white stripe first.”
    I yanked him behind the curtain. “This is a covert operation. I need to blend into the shadows not provide an illuminated arrow saying this way to the cat burglar.”
    “Fudge. You’re right.” He took the striped suit and left me with two versions of a black cat get up.
    The first suit fought me as if possessed by the spirit of an anorexic queen. No way was that a size six. I handed it back to my able-bodied assistant. We