“Petreski! Open up!”
Cripes! The fuzz! “Just a sec!” I checked the mirror by the door and I looked decent – I hadn’t changed when I got home so I was still wearing jeans and my shirt didn’t stink. I grabbed a tin of mints from the basket on the bookshelf and popped a couple in my mouth, then took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Detective Petreski, what a surprise. Were you in the neighborhood?”
He looked me up and down before answering. “Are you alone?”
“Um, why?”
“I mean, do you have company? Am I interrupting? Do you have a minute?”
“For you, Detective Petreski, I have two.” I stepped back and gestured for him to come inside.
He stepped past me, and I caught a whiff of musk and citrus and something herbal. He smelled as good as he looked, in that damn tailored suit and silk tie. I looked down at my bare toes and the ragged hem of my jeans, and felt underdressed in my own home. I sighed and tried to push past my weird mood.
“What?” Petreski turned to face me.
“Nothing,” I shook my head. “Today has put me in a shitty mood.”
He studied me for a minute, and for a second he looked kind of sympathetic. That was a nice thought.
“Did you need something?” I asked. Our weird breakfast from the day before had left me off balance, and I really needed to know where I stood with this man. My life was more complicated than I really felt equipped to deal with right now.
“We need to talk.”
“About what?” I asked. I turned away from him and walked over to look out one of the front windows. The squirrel wasn’t here at the moment, but it was only a matter of time. I heard Petreski moving around the apartment, but didn’t turn to see what he was doing. As long as he didn’t make a mess, I didn’t care. It had been that kind of day. “I was at Ground Up this afternoon and Jennifer Katz came over to talk to me.”
“You’re popular all of a sudden.”
“I’m charming and approachable.”
“Hmm. What did Jennifer Katz want?”
“To apologize for her husband threatening me.”
“Josh Katz threatened you? Why am I just now hearing about this?”
“Um, I’ve been busy and it slipped my mind?”
“Tell me.”
I sighed and told him about my confrontation with Katz, his wife’s apology, and her identification of the woman her husband had spoken to at the crime scene. All the while I could hear him rummaging around, but I knew he was listening.
“Is this... Jake, what is this doing in here?” He sounded pissed, so I turned to see what he was talking about.
He was standing in front of the refrigerator, the freezer door open and a baggie in his hand. I’d forgotten about that.
“It’s medicinal.”
“Jake...”
“Look, my spiritual advisor recommended it. Said it might help stop the crazy dreams.”
“Did it?”
“No. It just made me sick. I think I might be allergic to it. So lame. Are you going to bust me for having it?”
He shook his head and tossed it back in the freezer. “I should, just to teach you a lesson. Maybe some other time.”
He shifted his search to the ’fridge and found a beer that met his standards, then moved on to the only drawer to root around for a bottle opener.
“Make yourself at home, Detective Petreski, by all means.”
The bottle open, he took a long pull from it before shifting his focus to me. It was more than a little disconcerting.
“Should you be drinking on duty?”
“Not on duty.”
“Oh. So, then to what do I owe the honor?” I leaned against the window frame, crossing my arms across my chest and trying to look all badass and unperturbed. Yeah, right.
“The honor?”
“Of your company?”
He didn’t answer. After another big swig of beer he started walking the perimeter of my apartment, flipped the light on and off in the bathroom, and was heading for the closet when I cleared my throat.
“If you’re not on duty, you don’t get to look in my closet.”
He turned back to me and shrugged.
“Seriously, Petreski, what are you doing here?”
“Curiosity.”
“That’s it? Curiosity?”
“You’re a curious guy, Jake Hillebrand.”
“I am?”
“For instance, I know you’re twenty-six, but you’ve been a full time student for years, have no student loans, and still haven’t graduated. You’ve got a trust fund, but you live in a one room studio. Your father owns a whole string of car dealerships, but you drive a four-year-old hatchback that looks like it’s been in a demolition derby.”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I haven’t been able to decide on a major. I can afford to pay my tuition and I don’t want debt. Yeah, I have a trust fund, but it’s not huge. It’s from my grandmother and it’s enough to cover tuition and living expenses and a little extra. It’s enough to live on, but not extravagantly. And yeah, my dad owns car dealerships, but have you seen how I drive? My dad will only fix me up with a new one every five years, so I’ve got to make this one last.”
“And the apartment?”
“I love this place. It has charm.”
“It is nice. But what’ll you do if the owners decide to sell? Places like this are getting razed for McMansions all the time.”
“They won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“My parents own it. If they ever want to sell, they have to give my trust first refusal. I’m not going anywhere, and neither is this building.”
Petreski started another circuit of the room, stopping at the bookshelf by the door and picking up the catnip mouse I’d swiped from Don’s stash, in case Boo got bored. “You have a cat?” he asked, sniffing the mouse.
“Not exactly.”
He continued his prowl, now looking out the first of the windows on the front of the building. “Nice trees.”
“Yeah.”
He moved to the second window and looked up into the higher branches. “What’s up with that squirrel?”
I rolled my eyes. “Just ignore him. He’s a weirdo.”
He was standing in front of the third window now, the one I was standing by, and still looking up at the squirrel. “I don’t like the way he’s looking at me.”
“He’s very territorial. He probably sees you as a threat.”
“Probably.” He took another swig of the beer. It was almost gone now and I couldn’t remember whether I had another one. “Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“See me as a threat?”
“Are you planning to arrest me?”
“No.”
“Then why should I see you as a threat?”
Petreski sighed and polished off the beer, setting the empty bottle on the windowsill. “You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you?” he asked, turning to look at me.
“I do. Just because I don’t see you as a threat doesn’t mean I have no sense of caution.”
“Really? Because you let me in.”
“But I know you. And you’re a cop, right? Trying to solve Wilton’s murder? Why should I be afraid?”
He leaned his forearm against the window sash and looked down at me like he was genuinely concerned for my safety.
“Predators come in all shapes and sizes, Jake. You need to be careful. Don’t trust anyone until we’ve found out who killed Wilton. They may think you know something and you could be in danger.”
I rolled my eyes and he reached out to grab my chin and turn me back to face him.
“I’m serious, here. This is not a joke and don’t roll your eyes over this. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
He looked deadly serious, and for a second I was a little afraid. Not of him, but of the power he had and what he could do if he had to. I nodded, and his gaze dropped.
I had had my suspicions, but it was still a surprise when his lips came down on mine.
I could smell the beer he’d been drinking, and his heavy stubble was an unfamiliar roughness on the edge of my lip. I had barely recovered myself enough to start kissing back when he pulled away.
“Wha– I thought I was a suspect?”
He shifted his hand from my chin to my throat, holding me in place while his thumb stroked up and down.
“No. We cleared you, much to Detective Perez’s chagrin.”
“And when were you planning to tell me this?”
“I just did.” He released me, picked up his beer bottle, and headed for the kitchen.
“Wh... where are you going?” I wasn’t finished with the kissing, to be perfectly honest.
“You got any more beer?”
“I don’t know. What are you doing?” He was back in the freezer, pulling out the baggie.
“Getting rid of this evidence.”
“I told you, I’m not going to smoke it.”
“Yeah, so I don’t want it around here where someone else could find it and you could get in trouble.”
“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” Wow, that was really thoughtful. And then he dug through the drawer again before turning on one of the stove burners and lighting up that damn joint. He wasn’t thoughtful at all. He just wanted to smoke my pot.
“Close your mouth and open a window, Jake,” he said around the joint hanging out of one side of his mouth as he took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. I was in too much shock to complain, and just did as I was told for once.
“You want a beer?” he asked, and I nodded. The squirrel had hopped down to the windowsill when I opened the window, so I went to the kitchen for some sunflower seeds.
It was a tight fit in the kitchen with Petreski in there, but I squeezed past him to get to the cabinet with the seeds.
“Are you feeding that thing?”
“Yes. And no, he won’t come inside, and no, he does not have rabies.”
“Geez, kid. You’re gonna name him next.”
I thought about it for a second. “His name is Raymond.”
“You named him Raymond?”
I thought about it again. “No. I didn’t name him, that’s just his... oh... Oh, shit. How do I know his name is Raymond? How do I know that?” I turned to Petreski, who was standing there staring at me with that damn joint hanging from the corner of his mouth. I turned to the squirrel who was sitting on the windowsill watching me. “How do I know your name is Raymond? And what the hell kind of name is Raymond for a squirrel, anyway?”
Raymond let out a high pitched squeak and flicked his tail.
“Sorry. I didn’t know squirrels had names. Oh, shit. I need to sit down.” I had just offended a squirrel and I actually felt kind of bad about it.
Petreski walked me over to the sofa, one hand under my arm holding me up, the other hand carrying an opened beer. “Raymond’s seeds,” I said, trying to focus on something normal.
“What?”
“In the kitchen. Sunflower seeds for Raymond. The window is open. He has expectations and I can’t let him down.”
“Fine. I’ll find them. Drink this.” He pressed the beer into my hand and I heard him rattling around in my tiny kitchen. He came out a minute later with a handful of seeds and put them on the windowsill. Raymond chattered a little, but didn’t fuss too much at having a stranger so close. “You feeling any better?” He asked, coming to sit beside me. I nodded and he took a drag off his – my – joint and tamped the ashes into his empty beer bottle.
We sat there for a few minutes, me drinking, him smoking, Raymond chomping his way through his seeds.
“You had an a-ha moment.”
I nodded.
“This is some good shit.” He took another hit. “You got any more?”
I shook my head.
“Eh, probably just as well.”
We sat for another few minutes, drinking, smoking, and eating. Raymond finished his seeds and disappeared into the tree. Petreski polished off the joint and dropped the butt into the bottle before setting it on the floor. I gulped down the last of my beer and Petreski took the bottle from me.
“So... you and animals.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “You tell me.”
I went to stand by the open window to get some fresh air. Just the smell of the smoke was making me feel queasy. “I don’t know. I’ve always liked animals, and animals always seemed to like me well enough.”
“You ever have any pets when you were a kid?”
I shook my head. “No. Whenever we would go visit a friend or relative who had a pet, I’d get too excited playing with them. I’d get – overstimulated my mother would call it. She said no pets. So, no.”
“Maybe if you’d had pets when you were young – been around animals more – this wouldn’t be such a shock now.”
“Maybe, but why now? Why not before? I see people walking by with their dogs all the time. I see cats on the street. There’s animals all over the place, so why now?”
“You’ve never had a pet?”
“No, I told you.”
“You’ve never taken care of an animal or formed any kind of bond with one?”
“No.”
“Until now.”
“What? No.”
He looked at me like I was stupid, and I turned to look out the open window. I couldn’t see much, since the sun was pretty much down by now. I could sense Raymond somewhere up in the branches of the tree where he probably had a cozy nest. “Furry little asshole. It’s all his fault.”
“He didn’t do anything. You opened the window – literally and figuratively. You forged the bond and, for some reason, because of some dormant aptitude or ability, you got more than you bargained for.”
“Oh, man.” I flopped back down on the sofa, wishing I had another beer or six. “What do I do now? I can’t traipse around Houston like some deranged Doctor Doolittle, talking to animals.”
“You could be a charming eccentric. This neighborhood needs more of them these days.”
“Jerk. I’m too young, and I don’t have enough money to be eccentric.” I thought about my best friend planning to leash-train his three-legged cat. The neighborhood would probably be fine, eccentric-wise.
“You’re probably right.”
He leaned back, and we both stared up at the ceiling.
“I wish I had another beer,” I said.
“I wish you had another joint.”
“I don’t. Do I have more beer?”
“Yes. Do you have any food?”
“No. There’s a menu on the ’fridge. Order a pizza, but you’re paying.”
“Why do I have to pay? You’re the one with the trust fund.”
“You smoked all my pot. You made me have a fricking epiphany. You pay for the pizza.”
“Fine. Epiphany? Who uses words like epiphany these days?”
“People who read books.”
I could hear him in the kitchen calling for pizza delivery. He ordered my favorite, probably guessing that was the best bet since I had hi-lighted it on the menu. Maybe he was a tiny bit thoughtful.
He came back a few minutes later with two open beers and sat down next to me – a little closer this time – before handing me one. I still wasn’t sure what he was up to.
“What are you up to?”
“What do you mean? Who says I’m up to anything?”
“Why are you here? Did you come over here to mess with my head, try to get me to admit I’m some kind of animal psychic or something?”
“Not exactly. Although that was a bonus.”
“Me having a meltdown? You enjoyed that?”
“I’d hardly call it a meltdown.”
“Whatever it was, I didn’t particularly enjoy it.”
“Sorry.”
“So?”
He shrugged and I watched him drink beer for a few seconds before facing forward and taki
ng a sip of my own.
“I was curious.”
“You said that before. Curious about what?”
“About you. About how you would act. And we’ve cleared you, but not Don.”
“What the fuck?”
“Hold on, hold on.” He reached over to pat my hand where it was resting on my thigh. Without thinking I flipped my hand over and he slid his fingers between mine. “I know he didn’t do it, but we haven’t been able to confirm his alibi.”
“How were you so sure I really was a – whatever I am? What am I, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask your spiritual advisor.”
He giggled, and I knew it was probably because he had just inhaled that joint, but no one giggles at Miss Nancy!
“Sorry. Sorry,” he said. I must have looked pretty pissed off. “Gut instinct.”
“Gut instinct? Cops really put stock in that?”
“I do.” He was dead serious now, and I wondered what had happened. He was still holding my hand. He had nice hands – I thought they were nice, anyway. They were exceptionally well groomed, and I wondered whether he had his nails professionally manicured. There were little dark hairs poking out from under his sleeve and a few sprouted from the backs of his fingers. He really was very hairy, and I worried about the state of my drains in the event he ever – and I knew I was jumping the gun here – but in the event he ever had call to shower at my apartment.
“What?” He asked.
“Nothing.” I took another sip of beer so I wouldn’t have to look at him.
“Jake.” I recognized that tone, and turned to meet his gaze. It was time for that part of the conversation, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it. I took another, bigger, sip of beer.
“Why did you kiss me?” I guess my mouth was ready – it was just my brain that hadn’t caught up.
“Did you not want me to kiss you?”
“I didn’t say that. But I wasn’t sure you even, well, liked me. So why kiss me?”
Right then the downstairs buzzer went off and he let go of my hand. “Saved by the bell,” I heard him mutter as he got up to go get the pizza. I guess he preferred to be the one asking the questions.
Not a Werewolf Page 7
