by Clea Simon
I slid next to Albert before either could respond, glad of the bourbon’s dulling effect on my senses.
“Have some.” Ronnie pushed the bag toward me. I shook my head, but I felt myself smiling. He wasn’t an attractive animal, but he wasn’t malicious, either. I was glad I’d decided to warn him.
“No, thanks.” I slid the grease-spotted sack back. “I just wanted to come by. Thank you for letting me use your computer today.” Albert who had been staring at me whipped his head around at that to stare at his friend. “You really helped me out.”
“Thanks, Pru.” Ronnie blushed. “I’m sorry about the…you know.”
“No big deal.” I dismissed his concerns. If he wanted to lust after surgically altered Russians, he was free to. “I wanted to talk to you about something, though. Something else.”
I looked sideways at Albert. He stared back at me, wide-eyed. These two were as much a pair as me and Wallis. I plunged ahead.
“You remember what I said about privacy?” Albert might be Ronnie’s sidekick. That didn’t mean I had to help spread the word. Ronnie must have felt something similar because he turned to look at his friend and then nodded. “About getting into trouble, if you’re not careful?”
“You didn’t, Pru!” A note of panic crept into his voice. “I promised I wouldn’t.”
“Don’t sweat it.” I made myself smile. We didn’t need a scene here. “Only, you see, sometimes people have friends, and they might take things the wrong way.”
“You mean, like you and Detective Creighton?” Albert piped up. “Like when you and Mack were still—?”
“No.” I cut him off. “I mean, if Ronnie here is taking an interest in someone and her friends find out, he could get in trouble. Big trouble.”
I stared at Ronnie. He had to understand this. There was a limit to how much I could do to protect him. A limit Wallis would say I had already passed.
“You don’t think that I…” He looked around, as if Happy might jump over the bar and rush him. “That what I did had anything to do with what happened to Mr. Rhinecrest, do you?”
“More likely that guy they found in the parking lot.” Albert was into this now. “You found him, too. Didn’t you, Pru?”
“I did.” I kept my eyes on Ronnie. “Look, I don’t think you had anything to do with that. This is just for your own good. I want you to be careful, Ronnie.”
“Yeah, okay.” The big man was nodding spasmodically. “Yeah, you’re right, Pru. I will be. From now on.”
I didn’t have anything more to add. Besides, I had almost finished my drink. Three should be it. I was fine to drive, but I didn’t know what else I’d run into tonight. I wanted to keep my edge. I drained my glass and started to slide out of the seat.
Before I could shove off, though, Ronnie started fidgeting. “’Scuse me,” he said, pulling his bulk out of the booth. As he lumbered toward the bathroom, Albert grabbed my arm.
“Hey, Pru,” he said. This close, the combination of beer, fried food, and negligent dental care was enough to knock my head back. “Hang on.”
I shifted away from him, but he kept his paw on my arm. Even my cold stare—usually enough to make him coil into a ball—didn’t deter him.
“Albert.” I put enough growl in my voice to warn him.
“Wait.” He leaned over me and for one horrible moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. But as he craned his head around, I realized he was checking out the room—or making sure that his friend had in fact retreated to the restroom. “Pru, he’s not telling you everything.”
“Oh?” I shouldn’t have been shocked, only I hadn’t thought Ronnie was smart enough to dissemble. “You mean he hasn’t stopped spying on pretty ladies?”
“No, it’s not that.” His grip on my forearm tightened. Albert was scared. “It’s what you said about friends. That’s why he got so freaked out.”
He paused and knit his brow. But if he had any second thoughts about talking to me, the need to unburden himself was stronger. “I thought, you know, when I brought up that guy…”
He stopped again, but I couldn’t wait. Ronnie would be back any moment, and Albert was losing his nerve as it was. Besides, I wanted to get him off me, and get myself on the road.
“He didn’t have anything to do with the rich guy. I’m pretty sure,” he said at last. “But Pru? Ronnie was talking to the other guy—the one who was asking all the questions about the girl. Ronnie was with him, here, that afternoon when you called him to set up the meeting. And then that night he was dead.”
I wanted to corner Ronnie then. To grab him and make him confess. Albert would have a fit. He was growing more nervous by the moment, nearly pushing me out of the booth when I refused to move. Finally, I had enough.
“This is serious, Albert.” I stood and brushed off the crumbs he’d shed on me. “We’re talking about murder.”
The room was basically empty, and the two old-timers at the bar didn’t even turn as I strode toward the men’s room. Happy looked up as I kicked the door open, but he had the sense to quickly look away. It didn’t matter. Ronnie wasn’t there. The big man had snuck out.
Chapter Forty-one
My first instinct was to go after him. It’s an urge I share with many predators—the unthinking desire to chase anything that’s running away. That’s why baby bunnies instinctively freeze when confronted by danger. But even though I didn’t actively want to tear Ronnie’s throat out, I had a good reason to want to track him down. Simply put, I’d thought I’d saved his fat butt by interceding with the dark-haired man. I’d done it I because I thought Ronnie was essentially innocent, or at least guilty of no more than the usual adolescent lewdness. The fact that he’d slipped out? That and Albert’s revelation meant something more was at stake than I had originally figured. I’m not in the habit of extending myself for almost anybody. I certainly don’t appreciate it when I’m made a fool of for my efforts.
But the advantage most predators have was denied me. I neither had the running prey in my sights or the scent of him. Cursing volubly, I stamped out the back door. Too late, I recalled my earlier misgivings, but it was fine. Nobody was waiting out back, either alive or dead. In fact, the whole area was strangely silent as I strode over to my car.
“What’s going on?” I was talking out loud. I didn’t care. “Or should I say, who?” I startled the small barn owl whose presence was the real reason for the unnatural stillness. Tiny as he was, he was used to being the alpha. My question—along with the fact that I didn’t scurry into hiding—made him blink and turn away.
Maybe that was all I was dealing with here. Ronnie was mouse-like in all but his bulk. My questioning him about anything may have made him run. Still, I couldn’t help but feel that I’d let him get away without telling me something. And as inconsequential as his secrets probably were, I didn’t feel like I could take a chance. I pulled out of the back lot still cursing. I had no interest in ending my night by tracking the man down.
I needn’t have bothered. I’d been hoping to see Ronnie’s truck on Main Street and had already begun strategizing how to get him to pull over without risking my own car. When I didn’t see him there, I circled the block. Beauville doesn’t have many late night options beyond Happy’s, and I’d been hoping he would head back once he figured the coast was clear. But Beauville doesn’t have much traffic, either. As far as I could tell, I was the only driver out on the streets. With more grumbling, I decided to beard this particular bear in his den. I turned toward The Pines.
What makes a pleasant drive on an early spring afternoon is less so at night, especially after a few drinks. As I’ve said, I was fine to drive. The reason I was fine was that I’m aware of how alcohol affects me, and I counter it—giving myself extra time to respond and taking a little more care on the curves. Creighton wouldn’t like it, I knew, but I’d been driving these hills since long befo
re it was legal. Besides, I wasn’t crazy about some of the things he’d been up to lately, and I was pretty sure I was safe. Only the extra effort—and the awareness that just maybe I was fooling myself—didn’t help my mood.
A drive I’d done in twenty minutes took me forty, and I was white-knuckling it by the time I pulled up to the condo development. It wasn’t just the bourbon. The day had been too much for me. I needed to sleep. But as I drove I only became more convinced of the need to confront Ronnie. I’d known something was off with that man, and I was kicking myself for not following up when I had the chance.
It didn’t look like I would now, either. I’d had time to think about how to approach him and decided that I’d treat him like I would any poorly trained beast. I rolled up to his office quietly, hoping not to alert him. But even when I flipped my lights on, I saw no sign of his truck, and a quick walk around the periphery—I’d neglected to use the bathroom at Happy’s before I left—showed no signs of the man or his vehicle. No signs of anyone else, either. Ronnie was going to be out of a job if business didn’t pick up with the weather.
I got back in my car to wait, but soon enough I was shivering. Turning the engine on was the logical response, but when my eyes started to close, I jolted myself awake and cracked the window. Booze, sure. Fatigue, maybe. But I couldn’t discount the thought that despite the best care I could afford, my exhaust system might be leaking—and what I interpreted as fatigue might be carbon monoxide poisoning.
Besides, I liked hearing the night noises. Even this early in the season, I could make out the rustling of a hungry raccoon. He paused to sniff the air, and I got a flash of coyotes—and of other, larger males—but the night was relatively calm, and soon his thoughts turned to something soft and wriggling beneath a rotting log. The brown bats had begun to stir as well, their hibernation broken by the recent thaw. It would be a few weeks before they could eat their fill of insects, however, and they knew it—one sniff of the air giving them all the information they needed. Within a few minutes, the entire colony was back asleep, dreaming of true spring. Warm nights, and…
I sat up with a start, my heart racing, and looked around. It wasn’t any noise that had woken me. In fact, the woods had grown quiet—too quiet for the natural world as I experience it. Moving slowly, as if I were being observed, I reached for the key and turned the engine off. Nothing. I rolled the window down a bit more, acutely aware of every squeak and rustle.
That I didn’t see anything didn’t surprise me. If Ronnie had driven up, I would have woken, and I didn’t expect any other vehicle at this hour. That I didn’t hear anything, however—that was bad. Leaning out of the car, I strained to catch whatever I could. I even tried opening my mouth, as Wallis would, to let the scents and the taste of the night aid my perception. But although I may have sensitivities that other humans lack, I don’t have a cat’s flehmen response either. The only thing I tasted was the bourbon I’d drunk, that and my own breath going stale.
No, what spooked me was the silence. Utter and complete, even as I listened for the wind around an owl’s wings, for the imperceptible pad of paw on the moist forest floor. I wasn’t trying to catch the sound—those night hunters wouldn’t be heard until it was too late—but for the movement. The intent. The hunger. I should have gotten something. I remembered the little owl from less than an hour before.
I didn’t. And that’s when it struck me: this is what the night felt like to a vole or a rabbit. A prickling of the skin the only sign that something was amiss. I wasn’t used to waiting.
I wasn’t used to being prey.
The thought hit me like a slap in the face, and just as from a slap, I recoiled, pulling my head in the window and reaching once more for the key. I keep my engine tuned up for pleasure more than purpose, but right then I was grateful as my baby blue baby jumped ahead, my boot on the accelerator. Kicking out gravel, the tires grabbed the asphalt as I spun around the development. I wasn’t going to slow down to turn and instead took the road around the building. My heart rate began to level off as I realized there was nobody parked here, no one on either side. Still, I had no trouble staying awake as I hit the highway full-throttle and raced the shadows back home.
Chapter Forty-two
I didn’t sleep. I didn’t expect to, after that, and even Wallis’ gentle scorn couldn’t rid me of my fears.
“Afraid of the night?” She’d joined me in the kitchen, where I’d poured myself another bourbon, my hands shaking. “So we’re just now comprehending we’re not the meanest creature in the woods, are we?”
“It wasn’t that, Wallis.” I raised the glass—and put it back down. I wanted to be alert while I thought this through. “I had the feeling that something—someone—was watching me. Had been watching me while I slept.”
“Huh.” Wallis sniffed at the glass and recoiled, her ears back. “Don’t you know we always are? You move like a…like a…”
“Dog?” I’d had some interactions with canines recently. Wallis thought them beneath her.
“A rabbit,” she corrected me. “Jerking all over the place, as if it makes any difference.”
“What do you mean?” I poured the whiskey in the sink and started a pot of coffee. “Are you saying me, personally, or people in general?”
“People, huh.” She’d picked up on my use of the word. “As if humans were the only species that…” Her thought trailed off as she licked her paw. “I thought you would know better.”
“Help me.” I put down my mug and looked at her, before lowering my eyes in supplication. “Please, Wallis, I don’t know what’s going on.”
“No, you don’t.” She jumped off the table and strode over to me. “Hunters seek prey and prey seeks shelter, the same as it’s always been. And you don’t know what’s going on.” She rubbed against my shins, which was some comfort. But then she left me, alone, in the dark.
***
By morning, I was more angry than frightened. Above all, I wanted an explanation. But as tempted as I was to race over to the Chateau and corner Cheryl—if not her dog—I had other responsibilities. And so, after putting out some food for Wallis, I made my way to Tracy Horlick’s house.
“You’re up early.” The harridan who met me at the door might not have taken off last night’s lipstick, but the cigarette in her hand was nearly all ash. I hadn’t woken her. I was in no mood to argue, though, a fact I tried to convey with a glower.
“Rough night, huh?” Her lipstick cracked with the smile, but she turned without waiting for an answer. As my clients have taught me, nonverbal communication can be the strongest.
“You needn’t be afraid of her.” Growler took one sniff and turned to stare at me quizzically, his little tail uncharacteristically still. “She’s just trying to get by.”
“I’m not afraid of her,” I barked back. “What made you think? No, never mind. Let’s just walk.”
With ears pricked—the canine equivalent of raised brows—he turned and led me down the street. I’d been worse than a brute, and I knew it. I’d been a human: tired, pissed-off, and snappish. And while I did my best to convey this silently—“I’m sorry, Growler. I sincerely am.”—it seemed the best amends I could make would be to let him have his time with the scents and sounds of the outer world, to catch up with creatures who, unlike me, were sociable and kind.
I managed to escape without any additional unpleasantries, not even when Growler’s person mumbled something about “the wrong side of the bed” on our return. It took an effort, but one I was willing to make. Growler I felt an allegiance to. He was a sensitive and intelligent creature who was making the most of a rough life. Tracy Horlick, however, paid my bills.
From there, it was over to the Chateau. Cheryl Ginger owed me some answers. And maybe, I conceded, I owed her a warning. If what I’d felt out there was real, she might have reason to fear, too—and it was quite possible that my actions ha
d made her situation worse.
I breezed past the reception desk before the young clerk could stop me, so intent was I on getting to the redhead. He must have recognized me and called up, however, because she opened the door even before I knocked. Like old Horlick, she was in a robe, only hers was silk, emerald green to match her eyes. Those eyes had the faintest smudge of shadows underneath. That didn’t do much to detract from her looks, but it did remind me that no matter how cool she might appear, Cheryl Ginger had reasons to be afraid.
“Pru.” She did her best to summon a smile as she pulled her robe closer. “You’re early.”
“I wanted to talk to you.” I leaned on the door, pushing it open. “I’ll take Pudgy for his walk after.”
“But…” She tried to block me, and for a moment I hesitated. If she had someone with her, it was none of my business.
“If you want, we can talk in the hall,” I said, and she backed off. She knew what I was going to talk about, and she wanted witnesses no more than I did. Still, I took a look around as I stepped into the suite. I didn’t want to be surprised, either. She stood, arms crossed, waiting. Meanwhile, Stewie had come to stand by her, curious but not alarmed.
“I want everyone to be safe.” I looked down into those liquid dark eyes. He needed to know I wasn’t a threat. He sat and wagged his tail twice, thumping it against the floor, which I took as encouragement to continue.
“I had a surprise visit last night.” I was watching Cheryl carefully, waiting for some sign that I’d hit a nerve. “I was doing some online research, and your friend dropped by. Uninvited, I might add.”
She turned away with a sigh. I wanted to grab her, to make her look at me, but I held back. Whatever she did on her own would be more revealing than anything I could force out of her.
“He wanted to know what I was looking for,” I went on. “He seemed very concerned with other people finding it.”
