title: The Cat Dancers: A Novel
author: P. T. Deutermann
description: <i>Starred Review.</i> Deutermann's first chapter features the eponymous, anonymous cat dancer as he rappels down a cliff in the dead of night, swings into the cave of a 200-pound female mountain lion and snaps a picture of the enraged beast as she attempts to disembowel him. The scene then shifts to a pair of thugs, who, while attempting to rob a gas station minimart, shoot the Pakistani owner and cause a fire that incinerates a young soccer mom and her child. The scumbag perps skate on a technicality when judge Annie Bellamy points out they were never read their rights before confessing. That Deutermann (<i>Firefly</i>; <i>Darkside</i>) is able to fuse these two disparate plots is testament to his well-drawn characters, intelligent, realistic dialogue and top-notch writing. Lt. Cam Richter, of the Manceford County, N.C., Sheriff's Office, is in charge of the minimart case, which becomes much more complicated after he receives an e-mail attachment that shows one of the two freed killers, K-dog Simmonds, being electrocuted in what is clearly a home-made electric chair. Cam is soon headed into the backcountry of the Great Smoky Mountains on the trail of both a nest of vigilante killers and the elusive, possibly apocryphal Eastern mountain lion. Petrified readers will be checking under the bed and in the closets for any panthers that may have crept inside while they were glued to the pages. <i>(Dec.)</i> <br />Copyright  Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
zlib_text: Dedication
  
  
  Thanks to my biggest helpers: Aileen, Rebecca and Amy.
  
  
  
  
  
  Additional thanks to my former college roommates; they are adorable slackers
  who don't read my books and will never realize how much material I've
  "borrowed" from their antics. Love you, guys!
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  
  _Belle_
  
  
  One of the girls in the _corps de ballet_ eyed me as I shoved the last hunk of
  Devil Dog into my mouth, careful not to sprinkle chocolaty bits on my tutu. I
  licked my fingers and lifted an eyebrow. The girl sashayed away, joining a
  ring of dancers who whispered in my direction.
  
  
  They were debutantes and East Side princesses, but I was playing Giselle, and
  I'd had a Devil Dog before every performance since my starring role in the
  Savannah Dance Cats production of _Grandma Got Run Over by A Reindeer_. Maybe
  I didn't have a pedigree, but I'd worked harder than anyone.
  
  
  And shouldn't they all be used to me by now? I'd clawed my way to principal
  dancer years ago, but this was the role I'd dreamed of si