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I thought I’d feel silly, asking a cat not to wake me up if I had a bad dream, but Boo looked at me like he understood, and head-butted me when I’d finished. Talking to Boo was not like talking to a cat. My life had gotten so strange.
That night I dreamed about the heavy mind again. I tried to pay more attention this time, to figure out what I was, where I was, anything. I was a dog – I could sense that much. I stretched, and I felt powerful. Murphy had felt light and agile – which made sense because he was a terrier. This time I felt strong, but that was it. I could hear voices, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. There was a deep voice that made me prick up my ears. That voice made me feel strange. I was afraid, and confused.
There was another voice, higher-pitched. This voice sounded afraid, too. I whined. I needed to protect. The voices were on the other side of a door, and I couldn’t get to them. I tried to speak, and heard a low-pitched bark. I tried again, a little louder. The voices stopped for a moment, and then the deep voice started speaking again, louder and faster.
I sensed anger and fear from the other side of the door, and that fueled my own fear. I needed to help, but didn’t know how. A part of me was still Jake, but unable to do anything but observe. I had no control over the body or consciousness I was inhabiting.
I woke up then, on my own. I turned, and Boo was watching me, tail twitching, but not touching me. “Hey, Boo,” I croaked, my throat dry. I got up to get a glass of water. Boo followed me into the kitchen, not taking his eyes off of me.
“I’m okay, Boo,” I told him after I’d drunk some water. “Thanks for letting me sleep – you did good.” I ran my hand down his back and he pressed up against my touch.
I went back to bed and Boo hopped up next to me.
“Somebody’s in trouble, Boo. I think I know who, but I don’t know how to do anything about it.”
❧
I poured myself a cup of coffee, put a handful of sunflower seeds on the windowsill, and waited. After a minute Raymond showed up, nose twitching, and looking around.
“Boo’s gone, Raymond. Don’t worry, though – he won’t hurt you, I promise.”
Moving slowly, I shifted from the sofa to sit on the edge of the coffee table. “Raymond – is it okay if I call you Ray?” He cocked his head at me and I couldn’t sense any negative vibes, so I took that as a yes.
“Thanks. So, I’m Jake, by the way. I guess we haven’t actually been introduced. I’m not sure, well, this is new for me, okay? So if you’ll be patient with me, I’ll try not to screw up too much.”
Raymond kept eating, so I kept talking.
“See, Miss Nancy, she’s a friend of mine. Anyway, she figures you’re probably special. Like, you and I have a bond or something. And that I should try to get to know you better. I’ve never known a squirrel before, though. Do squirrels have friends, Ray?”
He looked at me, blinking and chewing.
“My friend Don, he lives across the hall. You’ve seen him before, right? He’s kind of afraid of squirrels, but I’ve told him you’re okay. He’s afraid you’ll try to come inside, but I’m not worried. I mean, if you wanted to come in, I’d be okay with that as long as you tried not to mess anything up.”
Raymond cocked his head at me, then placed one front paw through the window, moving it from the brick ledge outside to the wooden sill inside. He held his other front paw curled against his chest, ready to dash if I made any sudden moves.
I sat as still as I could and slowly raised my coffee cup to take a sip, never breaking my gaze on Raymond. His other paw came down, and he hopped onto the inner sill and sat up, looking around.
Keeping my voice soft, I started speaking again. “See, it’s okay. Nothing scary. Although, you might not want to come in when Bridger is over. He’s pretty small still, and might not understand. He might try to play rough or something, and I wouldn’t want either one of you to get hurt. It’ll have to be a judgment call on your part, but the main thing is that he doesn’t get hurt, okay? Because he’s still a baby.”
Raymond cocked his head and twitched his tail. I caught a sense of understanding, and wondered whether it was real or my imagination. I hoped that, in time, I’d learn to tell the difference.
❧
Tom Wilton wasn’t in class that day. I wondered whether he was at home, finally grieving for his father, or just slacking off. Whatever the reason for his absence, I was relieved not to have to deal with him again.
Don was out when I got home, and I remembered he was working the lunch shift today. I fixed myself a sandwich, raised the window in case Raymond felt like visiting, and settled in to get some reading done while I waited for Don to get home.
Raymond didn’t show, but I heard Don get in around two-thirty. It really was true that you couldn’t come and go without being heard. I decided to give Don time to clean up and greet Bridger. If he didn’t come by before too long I’d go over there and get him. I wanted to tell him about Boo, and my dream, and Raymond. Also, I wanted to find out if he’d lit his candle. He probably wouldn’t tell me, though, so maybe I’d have to go over there and poke around.
Twenty minutes later I knocked on Don’s door. He cracked it open and looked out at me with one eye. “What?”
“What? What do you mean, what? I’ve got stuff to tell you. Why are you acting weird?”
“I’m not acting weird.”
“Then why aren’t you opening the door?”
“I don’t want Bridger to get out.”
“How long did you practice that line? Come on, let me in.”
Don sighed and stepped back. When I walked into his apartment I could see right into the kitchen and the Road Opener candle was flickering away on the stove top. “A-ha!”
“Whatever. I figured it couldn’t hurt. Besides, it looks nice.”
I didn’t say anything else – I didn’t want to seem smug. “You wanna get a beer at Ground Up?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I waited while he put Bridger in his sling, then put the harness, leash, and treats in his backpack. I didn’t ask, I figured I’d find out soon enough.
We sat on the patio sipping our beers and I told Don about the events of the previous night and that morning. He was not impressed by my inviting Raymond inside for a chat, but didn’t give me a hard time about it.
When Bridger started stirring, Don took him out of the sling and put the harness on him. Bridger was not thrilled, but didn’t fight it. Don hooked the leash to the harness, and gave Bridger a treat. Bridger had no objection to the treat.
“Are you going to put him down on the ground?” I asked.
“Not yet. Right now I’m just getting him used to wearing it. If he starts getting restless I’ll put him down and see what happens.”
It was a perfect moment. The sun was bright and warm, the breeze was cool, and the beer was cold. We were relaxing and enjoying the peace and quiet when Harry came outside, a phone pressed to his ear.
“Yes. Yes, I understand. I’ll be here.” He ended the call and turned to go back inside. Don and I looked at each other and shrugged. Something was going on, and I didn’t really want to know.
Don’s phone rang, and I got a funny feeling.
“Hello? Yes. He’s right here, hang on.” He passed his phone over to me. “It’s Detective Petreski.”
I took the phone, but I had a feeling this wasn’t a social call. “Hello?”
“Jake. Where are you right now?”
“We’re at Ground Up. On the patio.”
“Is anyone else out there with you?”
I looked around. “No. Harry was just out here talking on the phone, but he went back inside. He was talking to you, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. Stay there, okay? Don’t leave, and don’t talk to anyone. We’ll be there soon.”
“What’s going on?”
“Just sit tight. I’ll explain when we get there. Five minutes. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I handed the phone back to Don. “We’re supposed to stay here and not talk to anybody until they get here.”
“What’s going on?”
“He said he’d tell us when he gets here. But I’ve got a bad feeling it has to do with that dream I had last night.”
A few minutes later I saw a dark sedan pull into an empty space and Petreski and Perez got out. They looked towards us, and Perez sneered at me, nodded to Don, and turned to go inside. Petreski walked towards our table.
“Have you talked to anyone? Anyone at all since the last time we spoke?”
Don shook his head.
“No. Tom Wilton wasn’t even in class today.”
Petreski looked around, then pulled a chair over to sit down.
“Dawn Thrasher is dead.”
That was not what I was expecting to hear.
“Wh... Dawn Thrasher? Dawn Thrasher is dead?” I was thinking about the searches Don and I had done, and how we hadn’t gotten far with Dawn when we quit for the evening. Had we made a mistake, not going back and finishing?
Petreski was looking at me, head cocked to one side. “What’s wrong?”
Don waved a hand in front of my face. “Jake? You okay? Is this what you dreamed last night?”
I shook my head.
“What did you dream last night?” Petreski asked.
“It was... there were two people, a man and a woman. I was in the house with them, but in a different room and I couldn’t get to them or make out what they were saying.”
“Was the woman Dawn Thrasher?”
“No. The woman in the dream was afraid. Dawn wouldn’t have been afraid of anything or anyone. I think it was Jennifer Katz.”
“The bulldog,” Petreski said. I nodded.
Petreski took out his phone and pushed a speed dial button. “Yeah. Send a car to the Katz residence. I need a welfare check on Jennifer Katz. If she’s there, ask her to go to Ground Up with you, and bring the dog with her. Call me back.”
“Could you get a sense of anything from the dog?”
“He was afraid and confused by Josh, and protective towards Jennifer. I think he’s really her dog, at least in his mind. The more afraid Jennifer got, the more agitated the dog became. When... how... did Dawn? Was she killed, or...”
“It was not natural causes, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Was it like Wilton?”
“I can’t say, I’m sorry.” He sounded like he really was sorry.
“Wilton was stabbed, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. That much was released.”
“But do you know with what? Was it a knife, or something more, well, pointy?”
“What’s pointier than a knife?”
“I mean, something without a blade. Just a point.”
He looked at me for a minute, and then asked, his tone neutral. “What makes you ask that?”
“Jennifer Katz has – probably has – a huge collection of knitting needles. I got to thinking, one could go missing and she might not notice for days. Or one could get borrowed. And here’s the thing. If someone had walked up to Clarence Wilton with a knife in his – or her – hand, he would have been scared. But he wasn’t, at least not at first. He was angry, but not afraid.”
I looked over at Don, who was nodding in agreement.
Petreski pulled his phone out again and dialed a number. “It’s Petreski. Yeah – Clarence Wilton. Listen, could a knitting needle do the job? Check it out, and let me know. Do it quick as you can, I’ll need to get a warrant if so.”
He disconnected and looked back and forth between Don and me. “Okay. Anything else?”
“Are you mad?”
“I’m not mad, but I wish you weren’t so interested in this case.”
“I can’t help it. I didn’t ask to dream about it in the first place.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Seriously, though. Is there anything else?”
I looked at Don. Let him take this one.
“Helena Wilton has her own money.”
Petreski raised an eyebrow. “And you know this how?”
“Internet.”
Don wasn’t explaining this well, so I jumped in. “We looked her up online. She’s a major philanthropist. I figured, Clarence probably wouldn’t fund stuff like that, so we dug a little deeper. It’s all in public court records. She inherited a fortune from an uncle and the will was contested. If she has gambling debts, all she has to do is pay them off from her trust fund allowance. She wouldn’t need Clarence’s money.”
Petreski growled and pulled out his phone again. “Petreski. Put Hastings on the line. Now.” He glared and tapped his foot. I was glad I wasn’t Hastings. “Yeah. Petreski. Tell me about Helena Wilton’s trust fund. The inheritance from her uncle? Apparently, you don’t need to wait for financials. Apparently, it’s in public records. Yes, on the internet. Do you have an internet connection, Hastings? Yeah? Try using it. Try not sending us out here with half-assed information that makes us look like half-assed cops.” He cut the call and grinned at us. “That felt good. Hastings is useless.”
I took a big swig of my beer. That grin was unnerving.
“Please tell me that’s everything. I don’t want to make any more phone calls.”
“I can’t think of anything. You, Don?”
Don shook his head. Bridger mewed and Petreski looked down at the kitten in his harness.
“Oh, geez. Perez has got to see this.”
Petreski’s phone rang and he frowned down at it before answering. “Petreski. Yeah? Good. Ground Up, on Studewood. Bring her – them – to the patio. Thanks.”
“Do you want us to leave?” Don asked.
“No, believe it or not, I don’t. Just sit here and look like you’re minding your own business. Jake, I want you to pay attention to the dog. If you sense anything from him, ask Don to go get you another beer. Don, if he sends you inside, find Perez and tell her I need her out here, got it?” We nodded, and he moved to another table to wait for Jennifer Katz.
A black and white squad car pulled up a minute later, and an officer escorted Jennifer Katz over to where Petreski was sitting. She glanced over and recognized us, but her attention went immediately back to Petreski as she sat, reaching one hand down to pet the bulky dog at her side.
“What’s your dog’s name, Mrs. Katz?” Petreski asked.
“Buttercup.” She smiled down at the dog when he woofed at the sound of his name. “He’s a good boy, aren’t you? Yes.”
I tried to relax and focus on the dog, but I felt ridiculous. “I feel ridiculous,” I said to Don.
“Shut up and focus.”
“Oh, thanks. That was really helpful.”
Petreski was asking her about her husband, and where he’d been recently. She claimed she didn’t know anything about any contact or relationship with Wilton, although she did admit that Katz was upset about Wilton’s development activities in the neighborhood. When Petreski asked about Dawn Thrasher, though, I could sense the dog’s agitation go through the roof. Mrs. Katz looked calm, but he had to be picking up on her emotions. She put her hand down to pet the dog, and he calmed. She must have calmed as well.
“Hey, Don, would you go grab me another beer?”
“Sure.” Don got up and headed inside.
A few minutes later, Perez came out and approached the table where Petreski was sitting with Mrs. Katz. Petreski stood, Perez took his seat, and Petreski came over to where I was sitting.
“What?”
“When you asked her about Dawn Thrasher, she looked calm, but I think she was freaking out on the inside, because the dog started freaking. Then she put her hand down and the dog relaxed. I know she knows – or knows about – Dawn. When I described her the other day, Mrs. Katz knew who she was immediately, and didn’t want to talk about her.”
“Right.”
He went back over to the other table and pulled over a third chair for himself.
“Mrs. Katz,” I heard him say. “I really need you to tell me everything you know about Dawn Thrasher.”
“I don’t... I don’t know her well. We’ve only met a few times. She’s come to some of our meetings, and talked about ways to demonstrate and make a fuss about what Wilton was doing in the neighborhood. But that’s all the contact I really had with her. She’s too, well, aggressive I think. Like everything is a battle to be fought and won. It’s tiring to be around someone like that.”
“Someone like your husband?” Perez interjected.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your husband has a history of similar behavior, I believe. And there have been some calls from neighbors – shouting and loud noises coming from your house. Is there something you’d like to tell us, Mrs. Katz? Jennifer?” Perez actually sounded sympathetic.
“I don’t... what are you getting at?”
Petreski glanced over at me and I nodded. The agitation was ratcheting up again. There was definitely something here.
“Mrs. Katz, what Detective Perez and I need to know is whether you have any reason to believe that your husband may have been planning any kind of activity with Ms. Thrasher. Anything that might have led to trouble? Ms. Thrasher’s reputation is one of violent activism. Would your husband have been convinced or lured into participating in anything like that?”
I could feel some of the tension ease. This was not what she was hiding.
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. Josh is, well, he’s got a temper, but I can’t see him plotting anything devious, if that’s what you mean.”
Petreski glanced over again, and I shook my head. They were on the wrong track.
“How did Ms. Thrasher come to be involved in your organization? Did she ever say what brought her to Houston, or what got her involved in this particular issue?”
“Well, I think someone in the group knew about her. They had heard of the work she was doing in other neighborhoods and invited her to speak to us about ways to protest and get results. I remember – oh, who was it?” She paused for a minute. “Carl Burke – that’s who it was. He found her online and sent her an email. He said she wasn’t interested at first, but once she found out it was Clarence Wilton we were up against she jumped at the offer.”
Perez was taking notes, and Petreski was nodding, encouraging Mrs. Katz to go on. “That’s great. So no one else in the group knew Ms. Thrasher before she got here, as far as you know?”
“That’s right.”
“What about after the talk she gave? Were people interested? Did she form any alliances or associations that you know of?”
The dog was completely calm now. Whatever had Mrs. Katz upset earlier had little, if anything, to do with Dawn Thrasher’s professional activities. I wondered why Don hadn’t come back with my beer, when Harry came around the corner with a bottle in his hand. He put it on the table in front of me. “Don’ll be back in a minute.”
“Okay. Thanks, Harry.”
Watching Harry walk away it dawned on me. Dawn Thrasher was the girl who had gotten Harry mixed up in her mess all those years ago. Dawn and Harry... Dawn who had a new man in a matter of days... Dawn Thrasher, who didn’t do anything that didn’t further her cause, and likewise would do whatever she had to do. Dawn Thrasher would have become more focused, and more ruthless, as she got older. Dawn Thrasher, manipulator and user of men.
I choked on the swallow of beer I had just taken at that thought. Ew. The bubbles burned my nose and I gasped for breath. I knew Perez was probably scowling at me. I felt a hand slapping my back and I wiped my mouth and nose with the napkin that was thrust into my hand. I looked up to see Petreski frowning down at me.
“Sex,” I managed to whisper when I caught my breath.
“What?!”
“Dawn... Dawn Thrasher.” I choked again. “I think she probably seduced Josh Katz. She manipulates people – men – like she did Harry years ago.”
Petreski nodded and straightened up. “You’re sure you’re all right, sir?” he asked, I assumed for Mrs. Katz’s benefit.
“Oh, yes. Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
The tension shot right back up when they started asking about her husband’s relationship with Dawn Thrasher. She claimed she didn’t know anything about a relationship, and that may have been true. But she had her suspicions, I was sure of it. They didn’t get very far with that line of questioning, though.
I could feel the dog tensing up again, but the source of agitation was different this time. It was the same uneasy fear I had felt in the dream last night, and a few seconds later, Josh Katz came around the corner.
“What’s going on here?” he bellowed.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Katz,” Petreski said, standing to greet the new arrival. “Would you care to join us?”
“No, I would not care to join you. What the devil are you playing at, questioning my wife?”
“We’re just trying to establish the nature of Dawn Thrasher’s role in the community’s protests against Clarence Wilton.”
“Then ask Dawn Thrasher. Leave my wife out of this.”
“Dawn Thrasher is dead.” Perez’s voice was cold.
If Jennifer Katz wasn’t genuinely shocked at this news, then she was a hell of an actress. Josh Katz didn’t look shocked as much as angry. His face turned an astonishing shade of red.
“Mr. Katz? Are you all right? Do you need to sit down?” Petreski pulled out a chair for the older man.
“No, I don’t need to sit down! We are going home. Now!” He reached down to pull his wife to her feet and the dog started barking. The chair Mrs. Katz had been sitting in fell over and Buttercup’s leash got tangled in the legs. Mr. Katz started yelling at the dog, the dog barked louder, Mrs. Katz started crying, and Petreski was trying to untangle the dog’s leash.
“Enough!” Perez had quite a set of lungs on her, and everyone froze at the sound of her voice. I wished I’d had my phone out so I could snap a photo. Even the dog was still.
“You,” she pointed at Mr. Katz. “Let go of her arm and sit. Now!”
Katz looked pissed, but did as he was told, sitting in the chair Petreski had vacated.
Petreski finished untangling Buttercup and put the chair back on its legs. He handed the leash to Mrs. Katz and she sat. Petreski pulled another chair over for himself. Perez looked around the table, but remained standing.
“I take it,” she said, “that you were unaware of Ms. Thrasher’s demise?”
Mrs. Katz blinked up at Perez and shook her head. “I had no idea. I thought... I thought maybe she had done something and that’s what you wanted to know about.”
“Mr. Katz?”
“Of course I didn’t know. When did it happen? Is it in the paper?”
“It is not in the paper.”
“Mr. Katz,” Petreski broke in, “how well did you know the deceased?”
“She was organizing some protests for our group.”
“And was that the extent of your relationship?” Perez asked.
“What do you mean, the extent?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Josh. They’re asking if you were having an affair with her!”
Everyone turned at Jennifer Katz’s uncharacteristic outburst. My own jaw fell open. The dog whined.
“Well, that’s it, isn’t it?”
Perez nodded, her curls bouncing. “Yes, Mrs. Katz. You seem to have cut cleanly to the chase.”
“Jennifer, I think you’re overwrought.”
“Shut up and answer them, Josh. Do you think I’m stupid? Did you really think I didn’t know? Did you think I even cared?”
“Wait... what?”
Jennifer didn’t answer. She sat back in her chair and reached down to pet Buttercup. It seemed like she was done with this conversation. Maybe she was done with Josh, too. Good for her.
“Mr. Katz,” Petreski said as he stood, “I think perhaps we should continue this conversation at the station?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You misunderstand me. It was not a request. Our car is just over here. That’s right.”
Katz shuffled towards the car with Perez and Petreski turned to nod at me, then spoke quietly with Jennifer before he followed them. As they pulled away, I picked up my beer and went to sit next to Jennifer. I held my fingers down for Buttercup to sniff and got a big doggy lick on the back of my hand.
“He likes you,” Jennifer said.
“Dogs usually do.”
“That’s good. Dogs are excellent judges of character.”
“Does he like Josh?”
“Can’t stand him.”
“And you?”
“Do I like Josh?”
“Yeah.”
“Not much. Not anymore.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I can’t see him as a murderer, but the cheating is a good excuse to kick his sorry ass out.” She shrugged. “I’m getting on with my life, just as soon as all this mess is over with.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“You?”
“Yeah. I found Clarence Wilton’s body, you know? And stuff just kind of keeps happening around me. And, well, there’s some things I want to get on with that I can’t do until the case is solved.”
She nodded.
“You, uh... you want a beer or something?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “No. Thank you. I think I’m going to go home, call a locksmith, and drink a few gin and tonics while he rekeys the locks.”
“Do you need a ride?”
“No. It’s a lovely day for a walk. Come on, Buttercup.”
She stood, nodded to me, and headed off, Buttercup waddling behind her.
I saw Don stick his head around the corner and look around before he came to join me.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
“Detective Perez told me to stay inside until they left. What happened? I heard yelling.”
“Turns out Katz was having an affair with Dawn Thrasher.”
“No!”
“Yes! Jennifer Katz knew about it and totally ratted him out. Petreski and Perez took Katz to the station for further discussion.”
“Wow.”
“So, what was Perez doing inside? Terrorizing Harry?”
“Kind of. She was asking him about Dawn Thrasher, and whether he had had any contact with her. He was telling her about Thrasher coming into the shop when I went in there.”
“I think we need to go home and finish our research on Dawn.”
“But why? She’s dead.”
“That’s exactly why. I realized something while all the drama was going down out here. Dawn was the kind of person who used her sex appeal to get what she wanted. She manipulated Harry and Katz with sex. It’s unlikely they were the only ones. Maybe someone else’s wife did care. Or maybe someone got obsessed. Maybe trouble followed her here from somewhere else.”
