In the crowd of spectators, there was a sudden silence.

“The past is going to push back,” Stanley said.

“How do you know?”

“It’s like the quiet before it snows.”

A rock flew over Gregson’s shoulder, and 10 angry Arabs tried to tackle him.

“Keep chasing Pussy!” Stanley yelled.

Gregson ran after the scientist who was trying to unlock one of the great secrets of the universe.

Their mark got into a red Alpha Romeo, and drove off.

“I’m just borrowing her!” Gregson said. He galloped towards the pussy magnet on a camel.

He was going to smash into her, unless he could jump inside her convertible. Pussy didn’t notice.

He landed on her lap.

“Drive!” Gregson put his pen at the back of her neck, and her imagination took off.

They drove into a ritzy neighborhood where cats watched them from rooftops.

“I live at Number 3,” Pussy said.

There was a Persian rug on the floor and four cats that walked out of the shadows. A painting of an Egyptian hairless was on the wall.

“What’s this about?” Pussy asked.

“Do you know this man?” Gregson showed her Dorian’s ID.

“He was a big gambler at the track. He tried to seduce me, by telling me I was lady luck, but I could see the special kind of insanity in his eyes—bored all the time, you know—and looking for cheap thrills.”

“That’s him–Did you murder him?”

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