We nodded. After that it was lots of waiting while cops and forensic people swarmed all over the place. A police officer took down our information and we told him that we found the victim, Don called the police, we didn’t know who the victim was, and we hadn’t seen anything. Detective Perez - I had heard someone call her that - came over and glared at me some more and tried to take Murphy from me. The dog growled again and she backed off.
“Dude,” Don said in a low voice so only I could hear. “I think that’s Clarence Wilton.”
“Huh?”
“The dead guy. I think it’s Clarence Wilton, the developer.”
“That asshole who’s buying up bungalows and building those giant monstrosities? Half the neighborhood probably wants him dead. Maybe someone figured they were performing a public service.”
“Shh. But yeah, I think it’s him.”
“Damn.”
Murphy had stopped shaking, and I was getting tired of holding him, so I sat him on the ground and slipped my hand through the loop on the end of his leash. I remembered how Wilton’s left hand looked roughed up, and realized it must have happened when Murphy made a break for it. I pulled my hand out of the loop and picked the dog up again. They’d probably want to check the leash for something.
A while later a woman in a forensic team jacket came over to check out the dog. She took his leash and put it in an evidence bag. I held Murphy while she wiped at his paws and checked him over. He didn’t growl at her like he had at the detective, but he still didn’t want to leave me.
“He seems to have formed an attachment to you,” she said.
“I fished him out from the bushes over there,” I told her, nodding to where I had found Murphy. “I think he was just scared and latched on. And animals seem to like me.”
“We’ve got a family member coming who can take him, but if you can stay until then, it would be a big help. We don’t have anyone to spare to watch the dog.”
I nodded, and she went back to whatever it was she did.
A few minutes later a woman and a young man arrived. She was in her fifties, I figured. Well groomed, well dressed, composed and classy. The young man with her looked a little familiar. He was younger than me, I guessed. Maybe I’d seen him around campus. They both looked upset, and were talking to Detective Perez. Talking to Detective Perez sure upset me, so I sympathized with them. Perez pointed towards us, and they turned to look. The young guy started to move towards us, but Perez said something to him and he turned back. After a minute he nodded, then walked over to where we stood.
“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” he said. “But thanks for taking care of Murphy. I can take him now.” He held out his arms, and Murphy finally started showing a little enthusiasm, his tail wagging and his front paws stretching towards the young man.
“He’s had a fright,” I said, handing Murphy over.
The young man nodded, taking Murphy and walking back to where Detective Perez was waiting with the older woman, who we figured must be his mother and Wilton’s wife – widow, now. As they approached the women, Murphy started straining and yapping. He must really not like Detective Perez. I heard the young man say he’d take Murphy to the car, and Perez nodded, frowning.
Without Murphy to watch, I started paying more attention to what was going on around me. There were people milling around, putting things in bags and taking pictures. Someone was looking at the body, but I didn’t want to look down there, so I looked up, towards the road, and farther away to either side. Beyond the tape, onlookers had started to gather. Joggers and cyclists, mommies and nannies with strollers, a couple of reporters with cameras, people from the nearby houses who would have been attracted by the noise and flashing lights. The online neighborhood message board was probably already full of posts and idle speculation.
There was a man standing a little apart from the crowd, not talking and gossiping like the others. He was about halfway up the hill towards the road, holding a leash with a bulldog at the other end. He looked grim, but not shocked or horrified like the rest of the gawkers. He just stood there, frowning and watching. After a couple of minutes, a woman went up to him and said something. He didn’t say anything, just shook his head, then turned and walked away, towards the houses. She watched him for a few seconds, then turned and walked towards one of the groups of people gathered along the perimeter formed by the yellow police tape.
Don elbowed me in the ribs. “Ow! Don’t do that!” Don had really bony elbows.
“She’s coming back. The lady detective.”
“Perez.”
“Yeah. She’s got someone with her this time.”
I sighed and turned back to watch Detective Perez and the new guy walk towards us. When they were a few feet away, they stopped, exchanged a few more words, and she stalked off. The new guy turned to face us, and I have to admit I lost all my focus.
He was big, well-dressed, and already had a heavy five o’clock shadow and it wasn’t even lunch. He looked totally fierce. Like, violent fierce, not fabulous fierce. Although, I had to admit he looked pretty fabulous, too, with dark wavy hair and the brightest green eyes I had ever seen. .
“Are you a werewolf?” I asked, because something about this guy obliterated any filter I might have. Yeah, I was back on that, because this guy had to, had to be a total alpha male if I’d ever seen one. I wanted to roll over and show him my belly. I’d heard werewolves were hot, but wow.
“Huh?” He looked me up and down like he’d never seen anything like me before. Maybe he hadn’t.
“Uh... nothing.”
“Is your friend okay?” the werewolf asked, looking over my head at Don.
“Not really,” Don said. “I think he might be having a psychotic break.”
“I am not having a psychotic break. Don’t be an asshole in front of Mister...?”
“Detective Petreski,” the hairy vision growled. He must be a werewolf. The growly kind. I wished my instincts were more developed.
“I wish my instincts were more developed,” I whispered to Don.
“You do not have any instincts,” Don said in a flat voice. “You are not a werewolf.”
I had read about werewolf detectives. Some of my favorite books were about werewolf detectives. Or sheriffs. Werewolf sheriffs were good, too. They were always big and growly and protective. I bet Detective Petreski was protective. Right now he was giving me a funny look, though.
“Why’s he looking at us like that?” I asked Don.
“Maybe you’re his mate and he’s pissed off that he got shafted by fate,” Don deadpanned.
“That is so not funny.”
“What the hell are you two going on about?”
“Nothing.” Don said, just as I said, “Mates.”
The werewolf detective sighed and turned to Don.
“You look like the smart one,” he said.
“Hey!”
“God, I hope so,” said Don.
“Hey!”
“Y’all gave your statements to one of the uniformed officers, right?”
“Yes.”
“Here’s my card.” He started to hand the card to Don. I was too quick, though (maybe I did have lupine reflexes!) and snatched it from his hand. He growled again and snatched it back, handing it to Don. “You,” he pointed at Don. “You call me if either of you thinks of anything else, got it?”
“Got it.”
“Okay, smart one. Get your little friend home, make sure he’s taking his meds, or whatever.”
Detective Petreski turned his back on us and made his way down to where a woman in a jumpsuit was crouched next to the body.
“Okay, you heard the detective. Let’s get you home, Wolf Man.”
We walked to the western edge of the crime scene and ducked under the tape. A few people tried to ask us questions, but we ignored them and started walking faster. We were almost home when Don asked, “what the hell got into you back there?”
“What do you mean?” Becau
se honestly, there were so many things he could have been asking about.
“When Detective Petreski came over. You were acting fairly normal, and then – boom – crazy werewolf Jake was back.”
I shrugged. “I dunno. I took one look at him and all coherent thought went right out of my head.”
“Ew.”
“What?”
“Lust at first sight, then?”
“And how.”
“Great. Now you’re going to be mooning over some detective for weeks.”
“What do you care?”
“Because I’ll have to listen to you going on and on about him. And then you’ll see him out somewhere with his wife or girlfriend and then I’ll have to nurse you through your broken heart.”
“You make me sound pathetic.”
“You’re not pathetic, Jake. But you do get carried away when you’ve got a crush. Try to rein it in this time.”
“Fine. Whatever.” We were standing outside our respective apartments now. I could see a tiny paw sticking out from under Don’s door, trying to reach his foot. “You’d better get inside and deal with that,” I said, pointing down and slipping into my apartment while Don was distracted.
Sure, I’d had disappointing crushes in the past, who hasn’t? But I don’t think I’d ever been as bad as Don made out. Besides, that was a long time ago and I wasn’t a kid any more. And there was something different about Detective Petreski that I just couldn’t put my finger on. I didn’t have time to think about that now, though. I needed to get to class, and after that I had to go see Miss Nancy.
Jake Buys a Candle
Miss Nancy’s place was a bungalow on a quiet street near the farmer’s market and botanica. It didn’t look all that unusual from the outside. It was a little more colorful than its neighbors, and had more wind chimes around the porch, but there were no neon hands or tarot reader signs in the window. You had to know about Miss Nancy, and know how to find her.
I knew about her because she’d been my babysitter when I was a kid. I don’t know how my parents knew her. For some reason I had never asked and had always just accepted Miss Nancy as a solid, if unusual, presence in my life.
I knocked on the door and turned to look around while I waited for her to come to the door. There had been a little gentrification up here, but nothing like the raping and pillaging that had been going on farther south where Clarence Wilson had been operating. The door opened, and Miss Nancy pushed open the screen door, motioning for me to come inside.
Miss Nancy always dressed like she was on her way to a Renaissance Festival. Her outfit today was bright purple, a long, drapey thing with swirling patterns and a matching turban. A couple of long dreadlocks hung down on one side, and she was wearing a purple lipstick the same shade as her outfit.
“Jake, honey! Come give me a big ol’ hug!”
“Hi, Miss Nancy,” I greeted her, giving her the bear hug I knew she’d expect. It always surprised me when I had to lean down to hug her. She had such a big personality, it seemed like she should be taller.
“Honey, you look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
“I feel better already, with one of your hugs, Miss Nancy. I like the lipstick, by the way.”
“Shush. Come on through to the kitchen and we’ll have some tea.”
I sat at her kitchen table while she made the tea. I didn’t ask what was in it – some blend of things she bought at the botanica, I assumed. Miss Nancy didn’t do the cards and palms routine with me, although she did with others. But she told me once she only did it with them because they expected it and it relaxed them and let her see what she needed to see. Maybe because I’d known her most of my life, when I met with her we just chatted over a cup of tea in her kitchen.
She sat down at the table, the pot and cups between us, and studied my face. “You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”
“Not well.”
“Busy week.”
“Weird week.”
“Hmm.” She poured us some tea and I started telling her what had been going on. All of it – the dreams, the kitten, everything I had told Don already, all about finding the body. I even told her about dreamy Detective Petreski. She nodded, and listened, and sipped her tea.
“Drink your tea, honey,” was all she said when I finished. “You still got that squirrel visiting you?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I think it’s significant. I think that squirrel has something to reveal to you.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I wasn’t going to argue with Miss Nancy.
“What about the dreams? And what happened after? You don’t...” and now I was about to ask the thing I hadn’t had the courage to bring up with Don. “You don’t think I’m causing these things, do you?”
“Oh, honey, no! You’re one of the kindest, gentlest souls I’ve even known. You’d never wish harm, real harm, on anybody, not even in your worst dreams.”
I sighed and poured myself some more tea. “Then why is this happening now? To me? Have you ever heard of anything like this before?”
She sat back, folding her hands together in her lap and looking up towards the ceiling. I recognized her thinking pose and kept my mouth shut.
“Not exactly, no,” she said after a minute, lowering her gaze back to meet mine. “Sometimes, when someone has the gift, it can manifest itself in strange and unsettling ways, but usually when someone’s younger than you. Usually it happens during puberty.”
“Well, I do seem to be stuck – I know Mom and Dad think I’m immature and don’t want to grow up.”
“This is not a joking matter, and you are not immature. Give me your hand.”
She flipped my hand over and studied my palm for the first time in years – the last time I had been thirteen and freaking out over liking boys like I thought I should be liking girls.
“Maturity is not your problem, honey. You’ve just got too much going on in your head right now and it’s keeping you from making a decision. Oh, and you’re about to have a new presence in your life.”
“A romantic presence?” I asked, thinking about Detective Petreski.
“Maybe. It’s... complex. I have to think about this – this I know I haven’t seen before.”
I sighed. I knew there wouldn’t be a simple answer.
“What about the dreams? I can’t get a decent night’s sleep. The nap I had yesterday was the first decent sleep I’ve had in days.”
“After you found the kitten?”
I nodded.
“I think that’s because you dreamed about it and resolved it. You saved that baby, and whatever... force... made you dream about it was quieted long enough for you to sleep. You were sleeping the sleep of the just, I’d say.”
“But then... what about Wilton? That’s a hell of a lot bigger than a tortured kitten. A man is dead. Will finding the body be enough? Is there more I have to do?”
“I don’t know, honey. Like I said, I never saw anything like this before.”
“I’m just so exhausted. I’d give anything for a good night’s sleep.”
She sat her tea cup down and stood slowly. “Jake, honey.”
“Yes, Miss Nancy?” I looked up into her serious face.
“I’ve got something I think might help, but you have to promise me you’ll never, ever, tell your mama I gave you this. You understand?”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
She turned to open the freezer and took out a small baggie. I’d never tried marijuana before, but I knew that’s what this was. “Oh, Miss Nancy, I’m not sure...”
“Honey, it won’t hurt you none. If the dreams come back, just try a couple of puffs to mellow you out a little.”
I tried to argue, but there’s no arguing with Miss Nancy. It felt weird, letting my former babysitter give me pot, but I was desperate and took the two small joints.
“Now,” Miss Nancy clapped her hands together, business as usual as if she hadn’t jus
t supplied me with a controlled substance, “are you going to drive me over to the market?” I always did when I came to visit. She wouldn’t let me pay her, so I would drive her to the produce market, bakery, and botanica and help her carry her groceries.
Maybe this time I’d finally let her talk me into one of those candles she was always trying to get me to buy – Lucky in Love sounded appealing. You know, just in case.
Jake Annoys a Neighbor
I slept a little better that night. I woke up a couple of times feeling lonely and confused and afraid, but I went right back to sleep. I had a feeling I knew what was going on, but my poor, tired brain wasn’t ready to go there. Thank goodness I didn’t have any morning classes this semester or I’d be toast.
Don knocked on my door around nine and I dragged myself out of bed to let him in.
“Are you just now getting up?” he asked.
I didn’t answer and shut myself in the bathroom to perform my morning ablutions. When I came out, Don was standing in the kitchen doorway looking at the bright pink candle burning away on the stovetop.
“What the hell, dude? ‘Bring Love to Me’?”
“Don’t judge me. I’ve had a hard week. And I’m not the one carrying a cat around in a baby sling.”
“We’re bonding and building trust. And this way it’ll be easier if I need to take him someplace in the future. This is practical.”
I looked down at where Bridger’s little face peeked out of the sling. He yawned and one front leg stretched out, toes spread and tiny claws extended. I sighed. I couldn’t argue in the face of that level of cuteness.
“I’m guessing you want coffee?” I asked.
Don nodded, and since I was out of beans, we walked to Ground Up. Harry was working the counter as usual, and I could tell he was about to say something about animals in the shop when Don said, a tremor in his voice, “he’s a rescue. He’d been tortured, and left to die and... and... he only has three legs!”
I was impressed by Don’s blatant manipulation of the facts. Harry looked horrified and I thought he might burst into tears. Who knew Harry was such a soft touch when it came to animals? Don was obviously determined not to be separated from his new friend.
Not a Werewolf Page 3
