I understand that all’s well that ends well…but what if it doesn’t end?
—C’est La Mort
It took a while to get the police to start treating me like a victim rather than a murderer. I could see why they were confused. Here I was dressed up like a cat standing over a dead man in a dog costume. It looked like a violent ending to a furry lovers’ quarrel.
Fortunately for me, I turned out not to be the only woman Johnny had underestimated. Seems Anne Brooke didn’t go to her friend’s engagement party. Instead she went to the sheriff’s department. She had decided to confess everything, despite knowing that doing so would end her political career and could possibly land her in prison. But after a lot of tears she had decided that anything was better than being “owned” by Johnny.
The police took me down to the station, anyway, and asked me a bunch of questions, but in the end they let me go, and when I walked out of the station Anatoly was there waiting for me. He was standing in front of his Harley, a helmet in each hand.
I walked to where he stood, stopping when we were a foot apart. “I killed a man tonight,” I said quietly.
“I heard.” He handed me a helmet. “We’re going for a ride.”
I silently geared up and then straddled the bike behind him. I didn’t ask where we were going. It didn’t really matter, as long as it wasn’t home and I wasn’t alone.
He drove through the city streets, up Telegraph Hill until we reached Coit Tower. It was a weekday and off-season so there weren’t many tourists. He parked and led me to a spot where we could see the lights of both the Golden Gate and Bay Bridge. “We came here on our first date,” he reminded me.
I nodded and tried to lose myself in the memory. It hadn’t exactly been a perfect date. It had started off with my car being vandalized by a stalker, but even so, it was better to relive that than recount this night’s events.
“I didn’t trust you then,” Anatoly mused.
“The feeling was mutual.”
“That didn’t stop me from wanting you.”
I smiled. That had been mutual, too.
“There were lots of reasons for that,” he continued. “There are your almond-shaped eyes, your full red lips, your bronze skin, the curve of your lower back that brings attention to that incredible ass of yours.”
“Anatoly!”
“But there’s also your spirit. You’re a strong woman, Sophie. You’ve been through a lot over the past few years but you haven’t lost your spunk, or your sense of humor. I love arguing with you because I know you give as good as you get. I can’t break you. Nothing can. Not even what happened tonight.”
We were silent for a few minutes as I watched the overgrown brush on the hillside bend to the will of the wind. “I don’t feel guilty about killing him,” I said eventually.
“You shouldn’t.”
“Still…”
“You did what you had to do, Sophie. There’s nothing to regret.”
I tapped the toe of my shoe on the sidewalk. I didn’t want to talk about this anymore, at least not while sober. “So where did Fitzgerald go today?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
Anatoly’s jaw tightened.
“Anatoly? Oh, my God, did he go to the furry party?”
“Yes, he went to the furry party. He went to a hotel in Concord, came out in a costume covered by a trench coat, and switched cars. He took as many precautions as possible, but I was able to keep him in sight.”
“What’d he dress up as?”
“A lemur.”
“Really? Lemurs are kind of cute. I can’t really imagine having sex with one, but I like watching them at the zoo.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, if you didn’t let him leave your sight, that means you had to go inside the party. Tell me, what did the other furries think of your costume?”
Anatoly mumbled something that I couldn’t quite hear. “What was that?” I pressed.
“They made fun of me.”
“Who did? Wait, you mean the furries?”
“It seems that Johnny’s impersonation of a furry was a little off. They don’t normally dress up like cartoon animals. They wear costumes that are a bit more sleek.”
“Are you trying to tell me you weren’t good enough for them?”
“I guess silverbacks aren’t their thing.”
“Silverback my ass.” I stepped in front of him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “You’re King Kong.”
That night I gathered up my hero (Mr. Katz) and slept over at Anatoly’s. I wasn’t ready to go back to the scene of the crime. We stayed with Anatoly for a couple of weeks. I kept up with what was going on with Fitzgerald and Anne through the newspapers. The press had dubbed the whole thing “Furrygate” and were having a field day with it. Anne was being charged with “aiding and abetting” and “conspiracy to commit a violent act” or some such thing. Fitzgerald had been exposed as being a furry and had dropped out of the race at the insistence of the Republican Party. It was unclear who was going to be Contra Costa County’s next senator, but it was generally agreed that whoever stepped up to the plate was bound to be better than either Fitzgerald or Anne.
Fitzgerald’s relationship with Peter was also detailed in the press, and after a little thought I decided to call Tiff. I wasn’t sure if she’d want to hear from me or not, but I wanted her to know that I was there for her.
As it turns out she was doing surprisingly well. She had decided to buy into Dena’s line about her brother being an eccentric rather than a freak. She had even called Dena and offered her a free facial as a way of saying thank-you for giving her a way to deal with it all. With a little bit of coaxing I was able to convince her to make lunch plans with me for the following week. She was still kind of bitter about the way I had lied to her when we first met, but she figured I had been punished enough for my bad deed.
Mary Ann was doing well, too. I talked to her two days after everything had gone down with Johnny. She apologized for being so reluctant to tell me what she knew about Fitzgerald and told me about how distraught Rick was over the whole thing. He had honestly liked Johnny and he felt kind of sorry for Fitzgerald. But the recent events had helped make up his mind about his political affiliation. As soon as he heard what happened, he went down to city hall and filled out a new voter registration card. He was now officially a “liberator.”
I talked to Leah, too. I admitted to her that she was right about my relationship with Melanie. I had entrusted Melanie with my feelings regarding our father’s death and then I had avoided her so I wouldn’t have to face those feelings again. But despite our lack of contact over the past several years, Melanie had been my friend, and at Leah’s urging, I spent most of my time at Anatoly’s grieving the loss of that friendship. As for dealing with the grief associated with my father’s death—that was something I would have to work up to. But I would deal with it—someday.
Of course I eventually did have to go home. Anatoly offered to stay with me for my first few nights back but I demurred. I refused to allow Johnny’s actions to make me permanently afraid to be alone in my own home. Mr. Katz apparently agreed, because the minute we walked in the door he reverted to his old behavior, pestering me for food and giving me dirty looks when I didn’t deliver fast enough.
I fed him (I had upgraded his cuisine to the expensive gourmet stuff ) and collapsed on my sofa. That’s when I saw the blinking light on my machine. I had been checking my messages so this had to be a new call. I leaned over and pressed Talk.
“Hey, Sophie,” a male voice said. “Long time no talk. I’ve been reading a lot about you these days. Sounds like you’re a real-life Nancy Drew. That’s good because I’m back in town and I’m in a little bit of trouble. You know me. Maybe you can help me out for old times’ sake? There might be a lemon drop in it for you.”
I rammed my finger against the delete button. Mr. Katz came out of the kitchen and shot me an alarmed stare.
“I know!” I screeched. “I’ve just finished fending off a bunch of bears, and anthropomorphic dogs, and now I have to deal with that pig!”
Because really, “pig” was the nicest word I could come up with when referring to my ex-husband.