“As far as I know just the police, when they came for my needles. No... wait... Josh hosted a meeting here one evening. The protest group. I wasn’t here, though. I was teaching a knitting class up in Spring. I didn’t get home until the meeting was over. I don’t know who was here.”
I heard a slapping, banging sound from the next room and jumped.
“It’s okay,” Jennifer said. “It’s just Buttercup using the pet door.”
I started backing out of the kitchen, towards the front door, motioning for Jennifer to follow me. “Okay, sure.” But I felt uneasy about that sound, and I could have sworn I’d seen Buttercup in the living room not five minutes earlier. Quick and stealthy, Buttercup was not.
“So, what color were you thinking about painting in here?” I asked, still moving towards the door. Jennifer followed, eyes fixed on my face.
“Oh,” she glanced down to where Buttercup stretched out on his bed in front of the fireplace. I had to hand it to her, she kept her head and her voice stayed steady. I suppose living with a human powder-keg for years could give a person nerves of steel. “Oh, I’ve always loved the ocean. I was thinking of something tropical. Like aqua, maybe?”
“Sounds great.” I felt the door at my back and reached behind me to open it. “What about the furniture?” I asked as I turned the knob.
“Oh, all new, probably.”
I got the door opened and pushed her through it just as Josh Katz charged through the dining room door, ice pick held high. He came straight at me, though I think his target was really Jennifer. The force of his attack left the pick embedded in the wood of the door frame, and I shouldered him aside and followed Jennifer through the door.
“Run!” I screamed at her, and grabbed her hand as I passed her. We hit the street and ran towards Studewood, where there would be businesses and the most traffic. And witnesses. I managed to work my phone out of my pocket as we ran, but I couldn’t focus on it enough to call 911.
We were only a block from the busy street when we stumbled and Jennifer’s hand was wrenched out of mine. I turned to see her on her ass on the pavement, the ice pick sticking out of her shoulder as she turned to kick and claw at her attacker.
Josh Katz stood over her, chest heaving and face red. Sweat was dripping from him – he was in no shape to be chasing people down the street. We probably would have outrun him if he hadn’t been fueled by adrenalin and rage.
“You bitch!” Katz was screaming as he pawed at Jennifer, trying to get at the pick in her back.
I ran at him, trying to tackle him back off of Jennifer, but he was heavier and meaner and just brushed me aside. I fell and rolled a couple of times before I jumped back up and came at him from behind, trying to pull him away.
“The police!” I was shouting, hoping someone would hear. “Someone call the police!”
Katz started fighting me at that point, taking his hands off Jennifer and turning to push at me again, and I could feel his weight behind the attack. I flew back several feet, landing against a parked car before everything went black.
❧
“...rand? Mr. Hillebrand? Can you hear me?” a voice was saying. I didn’t feel like answering, but I grunted.
“Mr. Hillebrand?”
I cracked one eye open and saw a blur that I thought might be Detective Perez looking at me. That didn’t make sense, though, because the blur looked concerned. I blinked hard and tried opening my eyes again.
“Detective Perez?” I mumbled. Then, because I’m lame like that, I said the first thing that popped into my head. “You sure do have pretty hair.”
She scowled then, and the world tilted back onto its axis. “He’s awake,” she said as she stood.
I tried looking around, but my head hurt and someone was shining a light in my eye. “Ow!” I batted at the light and it moved away.
“Looks like we’ve got a feisty one, Doug!” I heard a deep voice say.
“That’s good. If they’re feisty they’ll be okay.”
“Jennifer? Is Jennifer okay?” I tried to get up.
“Hold on there, tiger. Hold on. We’ve got to check you out.”
I tried to sit still, but they sure seemed to be taking a long time. I could hear voices and sirens and see flashing red and blue lights out of the corner of my eye, but the two EMTs were blocking most of my field of vision.
“Please. Can you please just tell me if Jennifer is okay?” I asked again.
“She’s feisty, too,” said the first EMT, not-Doug.
I leaned my head back against the car where I was still sitting and let them finish doing what they needed to do.
“Can he talk yet?” I heard Petreski’s voice from somewhere behind Doug. I was afraid to see him, afraid he would be angry, afraid this might be the last time.
“Yeah, he can talk. We should take him to the hospital for observation, though. He hit his head – he wasn’t out for long, but he did lose consciousness.”
“I’m fine. No hospital. I want to see Jennifer.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Petreski told the EMTs. They stepped aside and Petreski crouched down in front of me. He didn’t look angry, but I didn’t know how good an actor he was.
“Jennifer?” I asked, because I had to know. The last time I’d seen her she had an ice pick sticking out of her back and Katz had her on the ground.
“She’ll be fine. She’s on her way to the hospital, like you should be.”
“What about Katz? It was Katz. He got into the house. He chased us down the street with a freaking ice pick.”
Petreski shifted to one side, and beyond him I saw the bulk of Josh Katz, lying face down in the street. People in uniforms and jumpsuits were shuffling around him, but no one seemed overly worried about him.
“Oh my God. Is he dead? Did you have to shoot him to get him off of her?”
“No, nothing like that. He was like that when we got here. A witness said it looked like he had a heart attack or a stroke.”
“He was pretty red in the face, and he was in bad shape. I’m surprised he was able to catch up to us.” I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at Katz anymore. “Can I go home now?” I asked.
“Soon. But first, would you please go to the hospital and get checked out? That way I can finish up here and I’ll know you’re safe. If you go, you can see Jennifer.”
I opened my eyes to look at him. He smiled, just a small smile, but I knew we’d be okay. “Fine. But you have to come get me as soon as you’re done here.”
“I promise.”
If You Feed Them, They Won’t Leave
I don’t know how long it takes to clear up a crime scene, but I remembered when we found Clarence it had seemed to go on forever.
I was in a curtained cubicle near the emergency room, and after they checked me over they seemed to forget about me, except for the young nurse who stuck her head in every once in a while to make sure I hadn’t expired.
My phone was busted – I must have dropped it in my tussle with Katz – so I couldn’t call anyone. All my numbers were in my phone, so I couldn’t look anything up. I was pretty much stuck until Petreski came for me.
I was just starting to get irritable when he finally showed up, pulling back the curtain and looking me over. “They give you the all clear?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see Jennifer?”
“No. I think they’ve forgotten about me.”
He went around the corner. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. If anything needed to be done, Petreski – Ruben – would take care of it
“You ready to go?”
“Hmm?” I opened my eyes to see Petreski standing over me.
“You wanna go home?”
“God, yes,” I said, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “They’re letting me go?”
“I told them you were dangerous.”
“Har har har.”
He helped me to his car – I was sore and stiff f
rom lying in bed all day. I think that was actually worse than getting slammed into a car. I was surprised at how tired I was, and I was starving.
“My phone is busted,” I grumbled at the dashboard.
“We’ll get you a new one.”
“But I want to order a pizza and I don’t have a phone.”
“I’ll take care of it when I get you home. A hot shower will do wonders for your aches and pains.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Yep.”
I didn’t like thinking about him getting tossed around and landing on cars so I didn’t ask him any more questions.
We got to my building and he helped me up the stairs to my apartment. Don came out to the landing – we weren’t exactly quiet and I can complain loudly when I want to.
“Oh my God! What happened to you?!”
“Josh Katz threw me at a car.”
“What?!”
“He’s fine,” Petreski told him. “You can get the whole story tomorrow, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” Don stepped back into his apartment, scooping up Bridger who had come to investigate the commotion.
Petreski unlocked my door and I shuffled inside.
“Go take a shower,” Petreski said, pushing me towards the bathroom. I nodded and moved in that direction.
“Don’t peek!” I managed to call out as I headed in that direction.
“I’ll, uh, do my best,” Petreski said after a few seconds.
He was right about the shower, and by the time I emerged, dressed in clean clothes, my mental fog had lifted and a hot pizza was waiting for me.
“Beer?” Petreski asked. “The doctor said you don’t have a concussion so it should be okay.”
“Yeah.”
He came back from the kitchen with two open beers and sat them on the coffee table before sitting next to me on the sofa.
“You haven’t asked me about Katz.”
“What about him? He came at us with an ice pick, so I’m assuming that was the murder weapon and he killed Wilton and Thrasher.”
“Forensics is running tests, but I’m going to say that’s likely the case.”
“I knew it wasn’t Helena Wilton.”
“You didn’t know. You had a theory.” He picked up his beer.
“Yeah, but it was a really good theory, wasn’t it?”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“The thing I’m wondering about, though, is the ice pick.”
“What about it?”
“Why no one noticed it was missing, or no one identified an ice pick as the murder weapon.”
“An ice pick was on the short list. And we did find a couple of ice picks at the Wilton house – they entertained quite a bit and had more than one fully stocked bar. But no one could say if all the ice picks there were accounted for. They’re cheap and easily replaceable – not the kind of thing you inventory or keep track of or even think about.”
“Unless you’re looking for one and can’t find it.”
“Exactly. Is that what happened?”
“Yeah. Jennifer Katz was going to fix us a couple of drinks. The ice in the freezer was stuck together, but when she looked for the ice pick she couldn’t find it. I was going to help her look for it, but when she described what it looked like... I just knew. I heard a noise from the service porch, so I tried to get us both out of there as quick as I could.”
“That probably saved both your lives.”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to think about what could have happened.
He took a long swallow from his beer and returned it to the table.
“What?” I asked. I knew there was something.
“I need to tell you something... weird.”
“And that would be different from anything else that’s happened lately how?”
“Touché. But seriously, this is something you should know. About me.”
“Shit, Ruben. You’re starting to freak me out here.”
“Yeah – that. See, I’ve never really liked the name Ruben.”
“Oh, good. No offense, but it makes you sound like a sandwich, and it’s kind of hard to say.”
“I like it better when you call me Boo.”
I blinked at him a couple of times before answering. “When... when have I called you Boo?” Although, I had a feeling I knew.
“It’s kind of like how you just knew Raymond’s name was Raymond.”
I nodded, not taking my eyes off his face.
“When I was a kid, my little sister couldn’t say Ruben. The closest she could get was Boo, and it stuck. My whole family calls me Boo now.”
I kept sitting there, looking at him, at that steady green stare and his silky dark hair and I started getting pissed off.
“I think I need to drink my beer now,” I said.
“Okay.”
I drank about half of the beer, sitting there looking at him and processing this strange conversation.
“Jake? Are you... are you okay?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Okay.”
“I think I need to eat something. This is kind of big to process on an empty stomach.”
He opened the pizza box and I saw that he had ordered my favorite again, but this time there were anchovies on his half. Of course there were.
“You can put anchovies on the whole thing next time,” I said, and I could feel him relax next to me.
We devoured the pizza in silence. Where does a conversation go after something like that, anyway? I had questions – lots and lots of questions, but there was one thing that bothered me and needed to be addressed.
I put my plate down, wiped my hands on a paper towel, and turned to look him in the eye.
“I’m not entirely happy with you at the moment.”
“I know. I’m sorry. .I would have –”
“Did you come around to spy on us? On me and Don? To find out if we knew anything?”
“No! I swear.”
“So?”
“The first time I came it was that day you told me about Katz. At the coffee shop. I had seen you at the crime scene, but everything was moving so fast that morning... Anyway, when I saw you again, at Ground Up, it was like a gut punch, okay? I couldn’t come as myself, so I came as Boo. I had to see you. You know why I kept coming back. Don’t say you don’t.”
“But – but – I told Boo – told you! I told you all kinds of really personal, private stuff!”
Petreski settled back into the sofa and pulled me down with him. “I know! It was awesome!”
“It was not awesome! It was personal! I feel so... so exposed!”
“You didn’t tell me anything embarrassing. It is nice to know that you think I’m hunky, though. Do you really think I’m hunky?”
“Not anymore I don’t.”
He buried his face in my neck and laughed. “You do! You so do!”
“Oh my gosh! You peeked! When I was in the shower! When I was getting dressed! You are such a pervert!”
He was still laughing when he answered. “Like you wouldn’t have done the same thing in my place?”
I didn’t answer, but I didn’t push him away either. I probably should have been more shocked that Petreski was Boo, or Boo was Petreski, or whatever. But honestly? After everything else that had happened, it hardly seemed worth the energy.
“Perez is like you, isn’t she?”
“Like me?”
“A... a... cat person? Werecat? Oh gosh, she is! That time Boo – you – brought the lady cat that didn’t like me! Animals always like me. That was Perez, wasn’t it?”
He nodded, like he didn’t want to admit it. I thought about Perez, trying to remember something she had said that seemed strange at the time.
“Do you – I mean, werecats or whatever in general – do you have regular cats, as pets?”
“We just call ourselves Cat. And no, we like cats, but it would seem strange to us to keep one as a pet.”
“Perez said
something strange. We saw her at the pet store looking at cat treats. Don asked her if she had a cat and she said not at the moment. But it sounded funny when she said it. What did she mean?”
“That is really not my story to tell.”
“She won’t tell me, though, will she? She can barely be civil to me. If I can understand her better maybe I can figure out how to relate to her.”
He sighed and leaned back. “She had a daughter.”
“Had?”
“Yeah. Perez was just a rookie then. She was young and crazy in love. She got pregnant, and the guy took off. She kept the baby, named her Roxie. She was beautiful, and a little badass, just like her mom.”
“What... what happened?”
“Leukemia. She just got sick one day, and kept getting sicker. It happened fast, and Perez has been angry ever since.”
“But, the cat treats?”
“Roxie’s father was human, but Roxie was Cat. Perez always called her Little Kitten. Towards the end, when Roxie had no appetite, cat treats were the only thing that she would eat, human or Cat.”
“That is so freaking sad.” I could feel myself starting to tear up. I wasn’t sure I was ready to shed tears for Perez, but I could shed them for little Roxie.
“Yeah. Sometimes, when she’s got it bad, she’ll get the treats.”
I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. “Okay. I need you to stop talking now.”
He pulled me down next to him and I turned to lean into his strength. “Don’t you dare tell Perez I cried.”
“I wouldn’t dare tell Perez that I told you about her daughter. She’ll probably figure out that I did, but as long as I don’t admit it she won’t claw me up.”
We stayed like that for a while, but me being me I had more questions.
“Do you – y’all – is there... do you... hmm. Is there such a thing as werewolves?”
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“As far as I know I’ve never met one. I can’t say for sure. I just know about Cats. That’s enough to keep me busy. That, and murders, and you.”
“Speaking of me...”
“Yes?”
“In the books there’s this thing about mates. Is that real?”
Not a Werewolf Page 18