Some Crimes Don’t Need Solving.
It’d been a long drive. That kind where you’re doing 75 and it feels like 15. The kind that leaves your skin feeling like plastic and your mouth tasting like concrete. The kind that you just want it to be over and then you feel like crap when it is. I was looking forward to a tall, cold bourbon and water and eight hours of insensibility. Max just wanted to do his laundry. It was rank even for him, though it took him putting his nose right against his suitcase to notice.
And someone broke in. Of course. That’s just my luck… drive all day, and get to work as soon as you arrive. Shit, what were they even after? It’s not like I’m loaded, or nothing. I’m a fox, not a banker. But everything looked in place. They hadn’t rifled through the garbage, they hadn’t gotten at the safe behind the diploma, they hadn’t even moved enough around to scare off that huge spider in the corner. Swear that thing is watching me sometimes.
Someone broke in to take a bath?
And there she is, in the hall, wearing my bathrobe and an expression that said she didn’t expect me back so soon. I’d met Cassandra Cat a few times, but usually only in a professional capacity, you know.
“What are you doing here?”
She blinks, and takes a minute to get back into her act, and says Well, Foxy, maybe I felt like sleeping on a bed for a change, and the Motel 6 was full.
“You gotta get off the streets, Cat. I’ve seen what that sorta life does to a girl.”
Why do you think I came to your place? she says, coming toward me with that slow, ferocious smile. This don’t look like the streets to me.
I pull back, keep the atmosphere frosty. “You know you can’t come running to me every time your latest squeeze gets punchy.”
Then let’s make this last time worth it.
Huh. Well, she makes a good argument when she wants to.
Yeah?! he shouts. Oblivious.
“Take a walk!”
Aw, but Sly! I gotta do my threads, you know?
“Then take a walk to the laundromat!”