Boo rolled over and fixed me with his bright green gaze. He was an excellent listener. “I know! I didn’t even realize. I probably never would have known if that handsome detective hadn’t told me. You remember, the one I told you about?”
Boo trilled and head-butted my hand.
“Yeah. I saw him again today. Don’t judge me, Boo, but there’s just something about him that feels like... like it fits. I know, I know, it’s stupid. And Don’s probably right, and I’m going to find out that I’m crushing on a straight guy and get my heart broken again, but there’s no harm in a little daydreaming, right?”
Boo twisted around until he was looking at me upside down. He batted at my chin with one gentle paw, and I pulled him close against my chest. “You’d like him, Boo. He likes cats.”
I was so tired it didn’t take me long to fall asleep. It didn’t take long for the dreams to start, either. It started out like the night before, feeling lonely, sad, and confused. That was bad enough, but this time I was frightened as well, and I felt helpless. I felt like crying, but tried to look around and figure out where I was. It was dark, and everything looked hard and angular, like boxes or cabinets. That was no help. I started to panic, and that was when Boo woke me up, purring and kneading my chest like he had the night before.
I lay there, tangled in the sheets and looking up at the ceiling, with Boo head-butting my cheek, and decided it was time to try something different. I turned to nuzzle Boo and gave him a few strokes. “Thanks, Boo. You’re like, the best cat ever.”
I got up and headed into the kitchen for a glass of water. Boo followed me and took a few dainty laps at his bowl. I downed about half of the glass, pulled a box of matches from the drawer and sat it on the counter next to the glass, then turned to open the freezer. I took out the baggie Miss Nancy had given me, and put that on the counter, too. I turned to look at Boo, who was watching from the floor.
“Miss Nancy said it might help repress the dreams, Boo. I really need a good night’s sleep tonight.” I turned back to look at the bag. “I’ve never even smoked a cigarette, Boo. I’ll probably burn the house down trying to light it.”
Boo yowled at me from the floor. It sounded like he didn’t think this was a good idea, either.
“I’m desperate, Boo.” He yowled again and rubbed up against my leg. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, Boo. You’re about to witness the start of my life of crime, I suppose. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
I looked down. Boo was sitting, straight and tall, looking up at me. He gave me a tiny little mew, and his sharp teeth were a vivid white flash against his black fur.
I frowned, and took one of the joints out of the baggie. I resealed the bag, and put it back in the freezer. I held the hand-rolled cigarette up to my nose and sniffed. “Ew. That smells awful. People smoke this for fun, Boo. I don’t know why.”
I put one end in my mouth and struck one of the wooden matches against the side of the box. So far, so good, I thought as it caught and started to flame. It took a few tries, and two more matches, but I finally got the damn thing lit. I tried inhaling, and coughed at the burning, smoky feeling. “So not fun,” I gasped, reaching for the water and gulping at it.
I gave it a few more tries, but as it hurt and burned less, I started feeling sick to my stomach. “Stay here, Boo. You don’t need to see this.” I staggered to the bathroom and promptly up-chucked into the toilet. I stood there, bent over and spitting, and realized I was still holding the joint. I tossed it in after my dinner and flushed the whole lot away.
I rinsed my mouth and brushed my teeth, and turned to see Boo watching me from the doorway. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a stoner, Boo.” He squinted his eyes at me, which I had learned was a good thing, and meowed. I guess he approved. “Let’s go back to bed. I’ll just have to hope for the best.”
For whatever reason the rest of my night was uneventful, and just like the day before, Boo was gone when I woke up. Fortunately I was feeling no ill effects from my smoking attempt, other than being hungrier than usual because I’d lost my dinner. I decided that my good night’s sleep was down to Boo being there, because nothing that made me feel as wretched as smoking that joint could possibly have a positive effect. I’d give the other one back to Miss Nancy the next time I visited her.
Talking to Tom
I looked around the full classroom – one of those auditorium-style rooms with tiers of seats sloping up to the doors in the back. I realized I was older than most of the students – I had put off taking this core class as long as I could. I wondered whether Thomas Wilton would be here for the exam. Didn’t you get some kind of break or dispensation or something if you had a death in the family? I had heard that if your roommate died during the semester you got an automatic 4.0 and didn’t have to take exams. I didn’t know if that was true or not, but had always assumed it must be some kind of urban legend.
I scanned the upper rows and was surprised to see Wilton sitting, alone, on the back row. We were seated alphabetically, so that made sense. He looked up and our eyes met. I could tell when he recognized me, because his eyes got perfectly round, something I had never seen in real life. The instructor walked in at that point, and I turned to face the front of the room. So Wilton hadn’t known we were classmates, either, I guessed. Small world, but that was Houston for you.
The exam was just as miserable as I had expected, but I was prepared and it was multiple choice, and that always worked in my favor. Afterwards, I stood outside the building, blinking in the sun and waiting for my weird post-test rush to settle down. I heard a throat clear to my left and wasn’t surprised to see Wilton standing there.
“Hey,” he said, shifting his weight and hiking his backpack up higher onto his shoulder.
“Hey. I didn’t realize...”
“Yeah. Me neither.” His eyes shifted back and forth before he looked at me again. “I don’t know if it’s okay for me to talk to you or not.”
“I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Yeah, right,” he said, but didn’t move away.
“I was surprised to see you here today.”
His expression changed, and he looked hard and angry for a second. “I can’t put my life on hold because... well... it was a shock and all, but...” He let the thought drift off and shrugged.
I think he was trying to tell me that his father’s death hadn’t been the blow one would expect.
“Still, it must be tough. Sorry.”
He shrugged again. “Okay. Anyway, I saw you in there and I wanted to, well, I don’t know. It just seemed like I should say something. I mean, it would be weirder not to, don’t you think?”
“Maybe. I guess.”
“And, well, maybe...” he looked around again, and I noticed the crowds had dispersed and there were only a few other people around. “Maybe if we don’t talk about... you know, that, it would be okay if I talked to you.”
“Um, sure. I guess that would be okay.”
“Cool. So, um, I was going to go get some lunch. You wanna...?” He gestured over his shoulder towards the food court. I wasn’t sure I wanted to have lunch with him – it seemed like something Detective Petreski wouldn’t approve of. But I had some questions that needed answers.
It was a little on the late side for lunch, so the lines weren’t bad and there were plenty of tables and we could have an actual conversation. I needed to know, and since it wasn’t directly about that, I figured it wouldn’t be strange for me to ask about Murphy, since I had found him and turned him over to Tom, as he told me he preferred to be called
“Murphy? He’s been acting strange, but that’s to be expected, right? I mean he was really Dad’s dog. They were practically inseparable.”
“I’ve heard that animals experience grief and loss.”
“Yes. Exactly. That’s exactly what it seems like. It seems to get worse in the evening, and I’m the only one who can get near him anymore. I wonder if that’s because I smell more like Dad or something? I don
’t know how that stuff works.”
I didn’t, either, but what I had been experiencing seemed, mostly, to fit with the grief theory.
“Mom’s freaking out, though.”
“Like, with grief?”
“Hah! Funny. No. About Murphy. He’s been acting out and snapping. She wants to get rid of him. But he was Dad’s dog, and Dad was an asshole, but Murphy’s just, well, sad, you know?”
I nodded. I knew.
“So, I think Murphy just needs some time to grieve and then he’ll be better. He’s a good dog.”
“You want to keep him.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” Tom smiled a little at that. “You’re pretty smart, huh?”
I shrugged.
Disengaging from Tom took another half hour. I got the impression that he didn’t have many people to talk to, and the way he was smiling at me before I left made me uncomfortable. He seemed nice, and he wasn’t bad looking, but I was so not going there, even if I hadn’t set my sights on a certain detective.
❧
“I need Detective Petreski’s card!” I called as I knocked on Don’s door.
“And hello to you, too,” Don greeted me as he opened the door.
“Sorry, hi. But I really need that card.”
“He said I should call him, remember?”
“If either of us think of something. I need to talk to him!”
“Okay then, fine. Come in and I’ll call him. It better be the real deal, though, not some flaky excuse.”
“It’s real. Hurry.”
Don turned his back on me while he dialed - where was the trust? Petreski must have picked up right away, and it was frustrating to only hear one side of the conversation.
“Um, hello, Detective Petreski? This is Don Olson... Yeah, the one with the kitten. You gave me your card and said I should call you if my friend or I thought of anything... No, I didn’t. Jake did. He said he needed to talk to you... Yes, he’s here.” Don passed the phone to me. “Here.”
I pressed the phone to my ear. “Hello?” I said, sitting on Don’s sofa. Don sat at the other end, listening and dangling a string for Bridger.
“Hello, Jake?”
“Yeah. Look, I don’t know if it’s important, but I think it’s the kind of thing I should tell you about...”
“Okay, what is it?”
“Well, I had my history midterm today...”
“Oh, well, that is important.” What the? Sarcasm?
“History as in the class I have with Tom Wilton.”
“Thomas Wilton? So it’s Tom now, is it?” he asked with an edge in his voice. That was more like it.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you if you’d give me a chance.”
There was silence for a moment and then, “Sorry. Go ahead.”
Wow, easy as that? Okay. “So, I was looking around the room before class, and Wilton was there. He saw me, and he looked really surprised, so I guess he didn’t know we were in the same class, either. Anyway, after the exam was over he came up to me and started talking.”
“Did he try to talk to you about the case?”
“Not really. I said we shouldn’t, and he said maybe it would be okay to talk as long as we didn’t talk about that, and I couldn’t think of a reason why not. And he seemed really lonely and wanted someone to eat lunch with, so I did.”
“You had lunch with him?”
“Well, not like a date or anything, although I do think he might have been trying to flirt with me at the end, there.”
“Don’t flirt with Tom Wilton, or anyone else connected to the case. Technically you are all still suspects until you’ve been cleared.”
“Suspects? Does that... does that mean I’m a suspect, too?”
“Technically. Was there anything else, or were you just calling to dish about your conquest?”
“Wow. Snarky! Yes, actually. We didn’t talk about the case, but I asked about Murphy. I mean, that seemed like a natural thing to do, since I found him and, well, you know the other part. But he dropped a couple of zingers about his relationship with his dad, and about his mom.”
“Such as?”
“Well, the fact that he was back at school already should be a clue, but he basically told me he wasn’t losing any sleep over his dad’s death. Neither is his mom, if I understood correctly. He called his dad an asshole at one point.”
“And Murphy?” I decided to forgive the snark since he seemed genuinely concerned about the dog.
“Practically prostrated by grief. Not handling it well. Acting out, and Tom’s mom is threatening to get rid of him.”
“And this fits with... you know?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding even though I knew he couldn’t see me.
“Okay. You did the right thing calling me. And stay away from Tom Wilton.”
“I’ll try, but we’re in the same class and I think he wants to be friends or something.”
“Just do your best.”
Don was watching me as I disconnected the call and put his phone down on the cushion between us.
“Sounds like you’ve had quite a day,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Wanna go over to Ground Up and have a beer on the patio? Good weather for it.”
I looked at the phone. Three o’clock. “Maybe just one. But if Katz is there, you have to block him while I make a run for it.”
I dumped my messenger bag in my apartment and washed up while Don got Bridger loaded into his cat sling
We found a sunny spot on the patio, and got a couple of happy hour specials. I didn’t have class again until Monday, and I was determined to relax and try not to think about anything unpleasant.
“So,” Don paused to take a sip of his beer. “Tell me about young Tom Wilton trying to pick you up.”
I sighed. So much for good intentions. “He did not try to pick me up. I think he’s just lonely. And you heard what I told Petreski.”
“Yeah, but I want details.”
“No.”
“You told Petreski,” Don pouted.
“That was reporting facts to an officer of the law as they pertain to an ongoing criminal investigation.”
“What the wha...?”
“You heard me. Giving you details would just be, well...”
“Confiding in your best friend?”
“Gossip.”
“Oh, well.”
“So when are you going to start training the tiny terror to use a leash?”
“He needs to get a little bigger first, and stronger.”
I closed my eyes and soaked up some sunshine while I listened to Don rattle on about how to leash train cats. It wasn’t completely boring, and I grunted and asked questions in appropriate places.
We had exhausted that topic of conversation and I was contemplating a second beer, when someone approached our table.
“Excuse me?”
I looked up to see the lady who had been sitting with Josh Katz the other morning. I looked around to see if he was anywhere in sight before turning back to her.
“Um, I’m alone. My husband isn’t here today,” she said.
“Oh, ah, that’s not...”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I know Josh can be, well, abrasive. That’s why I came over. I wanted to apologize about that.”
“Well, thanks, but does he know you’re apologizing for him?”
She blushed, and looked down at the bag she was holding. It was some kind of open-topped canvas tote filled with yarn and sticks – knitting needles, I remembered. My mother had once tried knitting for about twenty minutes. I come by my indecision naturally.
“No, he doesn’t. But I know he was dreadfully unfair to you, and he’ll never apologize. I just wanted to say something to you. He’s not a bad man, you see. He’s just very passionate about the neighborhood, and sometimes his emotions get the better of him.”
“Look, Mrs. Katz, is it?”
She nodded, “Jennifer.”
“Look,
Jennifer. You seem really nice, and I’m sorry you felt like you needed to come over and apologize. I love our neighborhood too, but I didn’t appreciate being the target of misdirected anger and threats. Your husband asked me to stay away from him, and I’m happy to oblige as much as I can, but I’m not going to go out of my way or change my lifestyle. Do you think that’s going to be a problem for him?”
“I don’t know, to be perfectly honest.”
“Okay, well I appreciate your honesty. Oh!” I stopped her as she turned to leave. “I was wondering – there was this lady I saw at the crime scene the other day, and I wondered whether you know her? She was probably in her forties, short blonde hair, slim. Not real tall, and wearing jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt. I think she was with a group of other people - they were all wearing similar shirts.”
Jennifer Katz inhaled sharply through her nose and pursed her lips. “It sounds like Dawn Thrasher.”
We all turned at a crashing sound. Harry had been clearing a table nearby and dropped a tray of bottles and glasses. “Sorry!” he called, looking flustered.
“Who?” I asked, turning back to Jennifer Katz.
“Dawn Thrasher. She’s kind of a professional troublemaker. She’s a preservation activist. But I don’t think that’s the only item on her agenda.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry, I really do need to get home.”
And she was gone, disappearing around the corner of the building in a flurry of fluttering skirts that reminded me of Miss Nancy.
Petreski Barges In
My brain was still fried from the afternoon’s exam, and I was supposed to be taking a nap, but was really lying on the sofa replaying the conversation I’d had with Tom Wilton that afternoon. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but he also seemed isolated and lonely, and I didn’t want him latching on to me, which was the vibe I was getting. I did worry about Murphy, though, and was trying to figure out how I could get to see him without giving Tom the wrong idea.
I was drawing a complete blank and turning my thoughts to dinner when there was a knock at my door. “Nevermore,” I whispered to myself, rolling to my feet. I was in a punchy mood and I didn’t recognize the knock. “Who is it?” I called.
Not a Werewolf Page 6
