20
I slept Sunday morning and missed church. I hadn't gotten home until nearly seven o'clock in the morning. There was no way to make a ten o'clock service. Surely God understood the need for sleep, even if he didn't have to do it himself.
Late afternoon found me at Washington University. I was in the office of Dr. Louis Fane, Louie to his friends. The early-winter evening was filling the sky with soft purple clouds. Strips of sky like a lighted backdrop for the clouds showed through his single office window. He rated a window. Most doctorates didn't. Doctorates are cheap on a college campus.
Louie sat with his back to the window. He had turned on the desk lamp. It made a pool of golden warmth against the coming night. We sat in that last pool of light, and it seemed more private than it should have. A last stand against the dark. God, I was melancholy today.
Louie's office was suitably cluttered. One wall was ceiling-to-floor bookshelves, filled with biology textbooks, nature essays, and a complete set of James Herriot books. The skeleton of a Little Brown Bat was laid behind glass and hung on his wall by his diploma. There was a bat identification poster on his door like the ones you buy for bird feeders. You know, "Common Birds of Eastern Missouri." Louie's doctoral thesis had been on the adaptation of the Little Brown Bat to human habitation.
His shelves were lined with souvenirs; seashells, a piece of petrified wood, pinecones, bark with dried lichen on it. All the bits and pieces that biology majors are always picking up.
Louie was about five foot six, with eyes as black as my own. His hair was straight and fine, growing a little below his shoulders. It wasn't a fashion statement as it was with Richard. It sort of looked as though Louie had just not gotten around to cutting his hair in a while. He had a square face, a slender build, and looked sort of inoffensive. But muscles worked in his forearms as he tented his fingers and looked at me. Even if he hadn't been a wererat, I might not have offered to arm-wrestle him.
He had come in specially to talk to me on a Sunday. It was my day off, too.
It was the first Sunday that Richard and I hadn't at least talked to each other in months. Richard had called and canceled, saying it was pack business. I hadn't been able to ask questions because you can't argue with your answering machine. I didn't call him back. I wasn't ready to talk to him, not after last night.
I felt like a fool this morning. I'd said yes to a proposal from someone I didn't know. I knew what Richard had shown me, his outward face, but inside was a whole new world that I had just begun to visit.
"What did you and the rest of the professors think of the footprints the police sent over?"
"We think it's a wolf."
"A wolf? Why?"
"It's certainly a big canine. It isn't a dog, and other than wolves that's about it."
"Even allowing for the fact that the canine foot is mixed with human?"
"Even allowing."
"Could it be Peggy Smitz?"
"Peggy could control herself really well. Why would she kill someone?"
"I don't know. Why wouldn't she kill someone?"
He leaned back in his chair. It squeaked under his weight. "Fair question. Peggy was as much a pacifist as the pack would let her be."
"She didn't fight?"
"Not unless forced into it."
"Was she high in the pack structure?"
"Shouldn't you be asking Richard these questions? He is next in line to the throne, so to speak."
I just looked at him. I wouldn't look away as if I were guilty of something.
"I smell trouble in paradise," he said.
I ignored the hint. Business, we had business to discuss. "Peggy's husband came to see me. He wanted me to look for her. He didn't know about the other missing lycanthropes. Why wouldn't Peggy have told him?"
"A lot of us survive in relationships by pretending as hard as we can that we aren't what we are. I bet Peggy didn't talk pack business with her husband."
"How hard is it to pretend?"
"The better you control, the easier it is to pretend."
"So it can be done."
"Would you want to go through your life pretending you didn't raise zombies? Never talking about it? Never sharing it? Having your husband embarrassed by it, or sickened by it?"
I felt my face burn. I wanted to deny it. I wasn't embarrassed by Richard, or sickened, but I wasn't comfortable, either. Not comfortable enough to protest. "It doesn't sound like a very good way to live," I said.
"It isn't."
There was a very heavy silence in the room. If he thought I was going to spill the beans, he was wrong. When all else goes to hell, concentrate on business. "The police were all over the area where the body was found today. Sergeant Storr said they didn't find anything but a few more footprints, a little blood." Truth was, they had found some fresh rifle slugs in the trees near the kill area, but I wasn't sure I was free to share that with the lycanthrope community. It was police business. I was lying to both sides. It didn't seem like a good way to run a murder investigation, or a missing-person case.
"If the police and the pack would share information, we might be able to solve this case."
He shrugged. "It's not my call, Anita. I'm just an Indian, not a chief."
"Richard's a chief," I said.
"Not as long as Marcus and Raina are alive."
"I didn't think Richard had to fight her for pack dominance. I thought it was Marcus's fight."
Louie laughed. "If you think Raina would let Marcus lose without helping him, you haven't met the woman."
"I have met her. I just thought her helping Marcus was against pack law."
He shrugged again. "I don't know about pack law, but I know Raina. If Richard would play footsie with her, she might even help him defeat Marcus, but he's made it very clear that he doesn't like her."
"Richard said she had this idea about lycanthrope porno movies?"
Louie's eyes widened. "Richard told you about that?"
I nodded.
"I'm surprised. He was embarrassed about the whole idea. Raina was hot and heavy to have him be her costar. I think she was trying to seduce him, but she misjudged her boy. Richard is too private to ever have sex for a camera."
"Raina's starred in some of the movies?"
"So I'm told."
"Have any of the wererats appeared in the flicks?"
He shook his head. "Rafael forbid it. We're one of the few groups that refused it flat."
"Rafael's a good man."
"And a good rat," Louie said.
I smiled. "Yeah."
"What's up with you and Richard?"