This story started here.

Katherine sat on the roof and looked out over U-town. She lit a cigarette. It was dusk.

Being on the roof made her think about Carl. Carl had always liked to hang out on the roof, especially when he was working on writing lyrics.

It was true that Katherine had had a complicated relationship with Carl, but it had been Carl who had found Daphne and brought her home. The apartment wouldn't be the same without Daphne now, even though Carl was gone.

Katherine had suggested to Pete, gently, that he could try to write lyrics, because of how good he was with words, but so far he'd resisted. She was trying to find the right balance between encouraging him and pressuring him.

He'd written one set of lyrics and gave it to her to read, but then, fortunately, Daphne and Vinnie had come home and Katherine had quickly folded up the paper and put it in her pocket, letting Pete know that she’d read it later. She knew he didn't want a college professor to evaluate his work, and Daphne was a sharp and perceptive reader, but she could be a bit blunt.

Katherine did like to come up and sit on the roof, especially when she was starting to feel tense.

The whole murder investigation was unsettling. Killing Drenkenson had been a mistake – she knew that now. She wasn't sorry she done it, though, not after she'd learned that he'd killed Jenny Owens.

She knew she would talk about it in her next therapy session, and she also knew that Ray wouldn't agree with her about the morality of it, but the real problem now was it was just leading to complications.

And she should have anticipated that Jan Sleet would be handling the investigation. Katherine had seen in the past how sharp the detective was.

She had to suppress a smile, though, because one thing she could not have predicted was that the detective's father would suddenly pop into their lives, and then he would immediately start a relationship with Daphne.

She took a deep drag on her cigarette.

Of course, if things got really bad, she and Pete could go on the run. However, it was very important that Daphne be okay and be able to have her baby safely, so they would have to leave her behind. But Katherine, although she would never have admitted it, except maybe to Pete, had been sort of looking forward to–

The door to the stairway opened with a loud creak. She turned slowly.

Katherine had seen Angel Valentine here and there around U-town, but she had never met her. She was very striking looking, tall and slender, always dressed entirely in white, with straight silver hair.

"May I join you?" Angel asked.

Katherine shrugged and nodded.

Angel produced what appeared to be a very large handkerchief from somewhere and spread it out on the tar paper so that she could sit without getting her clothes dirty.

"I asked downstairs," she said. "They told me that you were up here. I was hoping we could talk for a few minutes."

"About what?" Katherine asked as she turned around to look behind her for a moment, checking whether Angel had left the door open or closed.

When she turned back, Angel looked completely different. She was still tall and slender, but now she had short, salt-and-pepper hair, and a lined face. She was wearing black jeans, an untucked white shirt, and a black trench coat.

Katherine squinted in the increasing darkness and then said, "Alex."

Alex smiled. "I imagine you're surprised to see me. It's been a while. "

"It is good to see you," Katherine said slowly, wondering which of her questions she should ask first. "But why right now? I've been here in U-town for a while and that's pretty widely known. I'm not hiding, and we've passed each other on the street more than once, when you've been... the other way."

Alex shook her head. "The murders. I'm afraid it's to do with the murders."

"Murders? Tom Drenkenson?"

Katherine had been in therapy for a while now, and she took it very seriously. She had read several books on the subject of psychology, and she was in the middle of two more at the moment. Pete joked sometimes that she had read more books about psychology than he'd ever seen her read about anything else, but she knew this was just his unease about the subject in general. (Pete was obsessive-compulsive, in her estimation.)

He thoroughly supported her interest, though, as long as he didn't have to participate himself, which was fair.

In her reading, she'd learned quite a bit about people with multiple personalities. Apparently finding herself sitting next to one, she had several questions, but this did not seem to be the right time to ask them.

"Drenkenson, and Jenny Owens," Alex replied.

Katherine's attention suddenly snapped back to the here and now.

"Jenny? I thought she left town."

"Jennifer Owens' body was found in the basement of Mr. Drenkenson's pet store. It was in a trunk, wrapped very carefully in plastic, but the smell had started to become noticeable."

Katherine nodded slowly. "I can't say I'm sorry. But you think Jenny's death gives me a motive for killing Drenkenson? I couldn't stand her."

"She– I should tell you that I'm friends with Stevie One."

"The 'superhero'?" She made quote marks with her fingers.

"Yes. And I wanted to let you know that she suspects you."

"I get accused of a lot of things." She paused as if sorting something out in her brain. "Jan Sleet is your daughter, right? What does she think about it?"

Alex shook her head. "I don't know. She..." She chuckled. "She and I are not confidants."

"Fair enough. So what does the superhero think?"

"Stevie says you were seen in the neighborhood that night. And you're a murderer, obviously."

"Well, thanks for the heads-up, but I'm not hearing anything that sounds like evidence, or a motive."

Alex shrugged. "Fair enough."

There was a moment of silence, then Katherine said, "Vinnie is here, if you don't know."

"Here? In U-town?"

"No, downstairs in my apartment. Having sex with my dog, rather noisily."

Alex frowned. "Is this another one of those jokes that everybody gets except me?"

Katherine shook her head. "No – let's just say he's having sex with my roommate."

"Why is he here? In U-town, I mean."

"To visit his daughter, mostly. Jan Sleet."

Alex nodded. "That makes sense."

They were silent for another moment.

"Do you want to see him?"

Alex shrugged. "Not particularly."

There was another pause, then Katherine was aware of a sidelong questioning glance from Alex, who raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Something you said to me," she said, "a long time ago. I wonder if you even remember."

Katherine shrugged. "Quite possibly not. My memory of those days is erratic."

"Mine, too. But this was a very specific conversation, and I remember it very clearly. Imagination and will – that's what you said it takes, to become somebody different, somebody new. That's what you told me."

Katherine snorted a laugh and then covered her mouth. "I said that to you? All those years ago?" She pulled out her cigarettes and lit one. "God, I..." Alex caught her eye and looked at the cigarette. "You smoke?"

Alex shrugged and smiled. "Maybe. Who remembers?"

Katherine laughed and lit one for her, too. Then she drew smoke deeply into her lungs and slowly let it out. "I was remembering my last conversation with Jenny Owens. I was telling her the same thing. She was just so... nothing that happened to her was... she didn't deserve any of it, but she put herself in some bad situations and then pretended that she had no choice." She shook her head. "I suggested she could change if she wanted to, with imagination and will, but she said no. She wasn't going anywhere, even though she'd just stabbed Henshaw."

She rolled her eyes. "He deserved it. She was adamant, though, that she was going to stick, to 'ride it out,' as she put it. Then she said she was going to go talk to Drenkenson. That's how I knew she hadn't left town, and what had probably happened to her."

"I thought you couldn't stand her."

"I didn't like her, but she was a fact of life. There was even a special bench for us, in the band's rehearsal room – the 'girlfriend seat.' We had to sort of get along with each other. And she wasn't afraid of me, so that's always nice."

 
"It is good to see you," Katherine said after another brief silence. "You should come over for dinner some time. We can bore Pete and Daphne with our stories about the old days." Alex looked dubious. "If you're worried about Vinnie, I'm sure he's going back to Italy at some point. He's supposed to be here to see Ron, I think, but he seems to spend most of his time with Daphne."

"Ron," Alex said slowly.

"Have you met her?"

"No." She stubbed out her cigarette and threw the butt off the roof. "Granddaughter," she said, looking out over the rooftops.

"I went through all that with Vinnie. You should meet her. She's cool." She grinned suddenly. "He's still handsome, by the way, but I'm pretty sure he dyes his hair."

"I hope you're not trying to fix me up with him."

"Oh, no. Daphne wouldn't like that. You know, he was just telling her about that night with Lauren–"

"Oh, God. Her. I'd managed to forget about her."

"The night she made that crack about us, and you tripped her–"

"Okay, that I remember. I do remember that." She shook her head. "Vinnie, such a gentleman, defending us against the terrible slander of being called dykes."

"It seems funny now. I was glad he didn't tell Daphne the specifics, because she... well, she entertains ladies and gentlemen and children of all ages, as Pete always says."

"And Vinnie."

"She's been pretty steady with Vinnie. Every night. That's unusual for her."

Alex smiled and said, "Okay, explain your comment about Vinnie and your dog. Well, as long as it isn't too obscene."

Katherine laughed.

 
"You want to know my theory?"

"Are you still at that?" Daphne asked. "I thought you said you can't solve it."

"No, not that," Vinnie said. "This is something else." He squeezed her and kissed her shoulder. "I want to tell you a story."

She shrugged.

"I don't know for sure how it started," he said, speaking very quietly, "why Daphne started being a dog, but however it started, here she was, living with a man and a woman, a couple. They are heterosexual and monogamous, and in any case she doesn't find either of them attractive.

"But how can she be part of this household? Just as a roommate? No, she feels more attached to them than that, and they to her. But she is young and attractive, and much closer in age to the man than either is to the man's lover. And the lover is heavily armed and has a long history of violence – you wouldn't want to get her jealous."

He shrugged. "Also, of course, being a dog also lets her tease people and see how they'll react. She enjoys that..."

He raised his head to look at Daphne's face. She was asleep, snoring as she always did when she slept on her back. She was far from the loudest he'd ever heard, though he knew the volume would probably increase as she got older.

Oh, well. He smiled. Holding her close, he reflected on the general advice about sleeping dogs.

His head was resting on the curve between her shoulder and her breast, with his arm across her belly. They had tacitly agreed not to mention the fact that her pregnancy was pretty obvious when she was naked.

There were several other subjects that they didn't talk about, like his future plans and intentions, but he was thinking that tomorrow he should start to bring those things up. Or maybe tonight. Their very enjoyable early-evening romp aside, he still wanted dinner.

 
"So," Alex said. "there's a litter of puppies coming?"

Katherine laughed. "Pete's not very observant, so I'll have to break it to him at some point."

"Are they Vinnie's?"

"Oh, no. He just got here a few days ago."

"I really don't know what Stevie's next move will be," Alex said after a moment, "but it's going to be complicated by a couple of things. One is that she resents your freedom here. She thinks you should be locked up, because of what you've done in the past, in other countries, even though legally you're in the clear here. So, if she decides to arrest you, for a crime committed here against a murderer, she will wonder if she's being influenced by the other things you've done, elsewhere. Which shouldn't matter in this, but she'll second-guess herself.

"Also, she had her own grudge against Tom Drenkenson, and she will know that shouldn't matter either, but she will wonder if..."

She frowned and pointed at Katherine's forehead. "Forget that last part."

Katherine blinked a couple of times and then nodded as Alex got to her feet. She looked out over the rooftops for a moment, then she reached into a pocket of her trench coat. She pulled out a business card, which she handed to Katherine.

"My attorney," she said. "If you do end up needing a lawyer, Tammy Nelson is the best. She'll help you, if you should happen to find yourself in need of legal representation."

Alex got to her feet and left, closing the door behind her.

Katherine sighed, and she thought that she should look at Pete's lyrics now. She took her reading glasses out of her jacket pocket and unfolded the bandanna she kept them wrapped in – thinking again that she really did need to get a proper case...

She folded up the bandanna again and put her glasses away. It was really too dark to read now, and she knew that at this point staying up here and longer would just be avoidance behavior.

She got to her feet slowly, looking around to make sure she wasn't leaving anything behind. Then she checked her pockets and weapons to make sure everything was in its proper place.

Pete had been patient, as always, but now she needed to go downstairs and tell him some things.

The End

 
© Copyright 2016 Anthony Lee Collins. All rights reserved.

 
u-town.com

This story started here.

The club was called the Quarter, and Katherine had her own seat there (by custom if not by law, as Pete always said).

The place was run-down and decrepit, even by the standards of U-town. It was a long, thin room with a bar along one wall and small round tables, with a small stage in the back. The floor was uneven – some areas were a few inches higher than others. One way to tell the regulars from the tourists (and Pete and his friends were always devising new ways to do that) was that the tourists were always tripping over the floor, even when they were sober.

When Katherine came here with Pete they sat at a table, usually with a collection of Pete's friends, most of whom were slowly getting used to her. However, when his band was playing she sat in a corner, on a little shelf that was part of the wooden frame that supported one of the PA speakers. The shelf was part of the frame – it wasn't intended as a seat, but it served the purpose. She didn't want to sit at a table by herself, because then it would be all too obvious that nobody wanted to sit with her.

Frances was the manager of the club, and she occasionally popped over to give Katherine another free beer. Frances liked Katherine because Frances had an idea that they both hated Jenny Owens. Frances actually did hate her, because Philip Henshaw, the leader of Pete's band, had dumped Frances when he'd decided to go after Jenny (and take her away from Tom Drenkenson, who was also in the band).

Katherine didn't hate Jenny, but she didn't like her very much either.

"She and Henshaw went out through the back a while ago," Frances said, "for a walk or something. Probably they'll have another fist fight."

"She," Katherine thought. Frances didn't want to even say Jenny's name. It was like being back in high school.

Thinking about the soap opera the band was turning into was annoying, so she started to think about Daphne instead. Katherine liked Daphne, now that she was starting to get used to her. A couple of times, when Pete was out, Daphne had come over and sat down with Katherine and they'd talked.

Katherine appreciated that, unlike Pete's friends and band-mates, Daphne had accepted her immediately when she'd moved in, with no sign of fear. Occasionally, Katherine woke up in the middle of the night and found Daphne sharing their bed.

It had been a long time since Katherine had shared a bed with anyone, and even now she sometimes had to sleep across the room by herself. But she was surprised at how easily she had got used to falling asleep with one person and waking up with two.

The first time it had happened Katherine had been alarmed, thinking that something sexual might be about to happen, but it never did. Daphne had a very active sex life, but she apparently had no interest in Katherine or Pete.

Daphne sometimes went to the Quarter with Pete and Katherine, and she usually seemed to have a good time (and a surprising number of the other patrons seemed too know her). But she never went to any club if there was going to be a band playing – Pete had explained that dogs don't like loud music, because of their sensitive hearing.

Katherine sipped her beer and lit a cigarette. She kept thinking that somewhere, in one of her psychology books, she'd encounter an explanation for Daphne, but so far she hadn't. But, of course, Daphne wasn't actually crazy.

Katherine hadn't been sure, at first, but now she was. Not that she understood Daphne, but she knew that she didn't really think she was a dog. And neither did Pete. And they definitely weren't sleeping together.

It had taken a while, though, for Katherine to really believe that Pete and Daphne had never been lovers. They were both straight (well, Daphne clearly went both ways), but they had settled into a weird sort of nonsexual intimacy that Katherine was pretty sure wouldn't show up in any of her books.

It was a common sight in the evenings for Pete to be reading, or drawing his comics, or practicing his bass, with Daphne curled up at his feet, sometimes reading a book of her own. Sometimes she sat up and leaned against his leg, and he patted or stroked her head, apparently not even aware that he was doing it.

A couple of times, when she'd been upset about something, she'd even climbed into his lap to be comforted, and Katherine had to work to keep a straight face, since Daphne was larger than Pete and looked like she might crush him.

 
Katherine didn't always come to see Pete's gigs. He didn't expect her to, so she went or not, depending on how she felt.

But this was not a typical gig. For one thing, she thought that it was probably going to be the last one. Already Tom had quit the band once and then come back. She was sure he'd soon be gone for good, and she even wondered if he might decide not to show up tonight at all.

She wanted to be there for Pete, if he needed moral support. She was still feeling her way around this idea of a relationship – it had been a very long time for her – but she knew moral support was usually part of it.

More importantly, she also thought there might be violence. It was just a hunch, nothing specific, but there was a lot of tension.

Tom came in and brushed past Katherine, heading toward the tiny dressing room behind the stage. He was carrying his guitar case. He looked gloomy, but that was normal for him. Well, at least he was here.

There was a murmur by the area of the door, and Katherine turned to look.

Several members of the Jinx, a local motorcycle gang, had just come in. Katherine knew that the small, dark-haired woman in the lead was Dr. Lee, the head of the gang. The Jinx were known to be fans of Kingdom Come, or at least Dr. Lee was, but they didn't usually show up en masse for the band's gigs. Maybe they were also thinking that tonight could be the last gig for the band, or maybe they were expecting trouble, as Katherine was.

"Hi, Kat."

Katherine found it annoying that Neil, Dr. Lee's bodyguard, still called her "Kat," but she didn't know how to stop it. If she told him to stop, he'd make an elaborate show out of stopping, which would be unpleasant. And she couldn't threaten him – he was Jinx, after all, and he was Dr. Lee's bodyguard besides. He couldn't be intimidated.

She took a sip of her beer, looked around slowly, and said, "Hi."

Then, as she waited to see if Neil had anything else to say for himself, he noticed that Dr. Lee was going back toward the dressing room, and he quickly hustled after her.

Katherine smiled. Duty trumped conversation. She was glad about that.

A few minutes later, Katherine saw Henshaw come back in, and Frances' half-joke had been right. His face was bruised, and he was limping – although, knowing him, he was probably exaggerating that part. He was very aware of the effect of his gaunt figure, his long coats and black clothes, and his hawk-like face. A limp was a plus, really. Very dramatic.

Then, very quickly, the house lights went down, the jukebox was turned off, and Kingdom Come took the stage.

It was interesting to Katherine how a band with this much personal disunity could still play so well together. Loud, fast, aggressive – the guitar parts fitting together so tightly that it sometimes seemed odd, given that the two musicians despised each other. But maybe this was carrying out their personal arguments by other means. Maybe, for the moment at least, it was helping.

Katherine saw Jenny Owens, standing by the side of the stage, leaning forward intently as the band careened from one song into the next. She held a beer bottle loosely in her hand. Her entire attention was apparently focused on Henshaw. Katherine thought that Jenny might attack him in some way, but Katherine didn't care what happened to him.

If Jenny moved toward Pete, though, Katherine planned to shoot her in the head. With the rest of the audience sitting down, it would be a nice clear shot. Nobody ever stood up to dance at the Quarter – they just bounced around in their seats ("chair-dancing," as Pete always called it).

Then, with no warning, Jenny smashed her beer bottle against the edge of the stage and lunged for Henshaw. Katherine stood immediately, her revolver in her hand, but Pete didn't seem to be in any danger.

After a few moments, she holstered her gun, but she remained standing. Pete had put his bass down and gone to Henshaw's side, helping to support him. Henshaw had been holding onto the microphone stand, but both he and it were about to fall to the stage. Katherine could see the blood starting to run down his pants.

Drenkenson was watching all of this with no expression, his arms folded.

Jenny, recovering from her apparent shock at what she had done, reached for Henshaw, but she was grabbed from behind by CJ of the Jinx. CJ was the largest woman Katherine had ever met, and she held Jenny with no apparent effort as Neil barked orders.

The crowd was somewhat disorganized, not helped by the fact that many of them were drunk. Some were moving toward the exit, including a few who seemed to be trying to seize the opportunity to sneak out without paying. Some had stood up and were backing away, but obviously they hadn't decided yet whether to stay or go. And some of the people sitting closest to Katherine had moved away quickly when she'd stood up with her gun in her hand.

Some of the people were remaining in place, too, either pretending that nothing had happened or watching events with rapt attention. After all, Katherine reflected, Kingdom Come were local celebrities. This story would be all over town by morning.

The Jinx had gone into motion with military efficiency, as usual. They'd taken Henshaw out quickly, someone already binding his leg with a bandanna as others carried him.

CJ tossed Jenny away and moved toward the door.

Pete was trailing out after the Jinx, but then he'd frowned and glanced at Katherine. She'd nodded and he'd gone out, following the others.

Katherine moved to the stage and climbed up. Even in the emergency Pete had taken care of his bass, carefully leaning it where it wouldn't fall. She pulled the case out from behind the amplifier, opened it up, and placed the bass in it, after carefully wiping off the sweat. She coiled the cord and put it in the little compartment where it belonged. Then she noticed Jenny getting to her feet.

Katherine put a hand on Jenny's shoulder. "If you go to the hospital, the Jinx will beat you senseless."

Jenny shook off her hand. "Fuck you! I–"

Katherine slammed her down on the edge of the stage, her legs hanging over the edge, and pulled her revolver. "No yelling," she said quietly. "I think you and I should have a drink together. Sit down at that table."

Jenny complied, and Katherine climbed down to sit with her. She looked around, but Frances' stony expression said that she wasn't about to serve them.

"Donna," Katherine called, and Donna the waitress came over.

"And what would you ladies like?" she asked, cocking her head and raising one eyebrow.

"Two beers," Katherine said. She tilted her head and Donna leaned closer. "And don't let Frances do anything unpleasant in them, either," she whispered.

Donna winked. "Nobody pees in the drinks I serve except me, and that's only for lousy tippers. Keep that in mind and you'll be fine."

She turned as somebody managed to get the jukebox going again, so she was able to walk away with a rhythm that highlighted how very short and tight her skirt was.

Katherine turned to Jenny. "We should talk."

 
to be continued...

This story started here.

"Do you think that it's true, as some people say, that most men fall asleep right after coitus and most women don't?"

Priscilla's eyes opened and she looked around, confused. Angel was standing beside the bed, holding a tall candle in a very fancy looking holder. The bedroom was dark except for the candlelight. There was no sign of Stephanie.

"I don't–"

"It is certainly true of Mr. Gerard and myself," Angel continued. Her voice was still somewhat dreamy. "He fell asleep a little while ago, and I lay there and started thinking. It occurred to me that I had perhaps been a little too casual about finding you in my bathroom last night." She looked at Priscilla for the first time. "May I sit down?"

Priscilla looked around for a chair, but Angel put the candlestick on the windowsill and sat on the narrow bed next to her. Priscilla had noticed that Angel's nightgown and robe were equally filmy, and she was seeing almost as much of the other woman's body as she had in the bathroom. Was this a pass? It didn't feel like one, but Priscilla was glad she was wearing particularly unattractive pajamas.

"First of all, do you know why Stephanie went out after she brought you here?"

"Yes," Priscilla said. "I mean–"

"So do I, so we don't need to be evasive about that. Are you and she a couple?"

"No!" Priscilla said. "Just because we–"

Angel turned, her eyes meeting Priscilla's, and suddenly Priscilla found that she couldn't speak.

"I am sorry," Angel said softly. "I intended no disrespect. Why did that question get you upset?"

"My stepmother," Priscilla started. "She... we don't get along. She thought I was a... that I was boy crazy. Then I cut my hair, just on an impulse, and she said, 'Oh my God, I knew it, you're a dyke!'" Priscilla felt her heart pounding. Why was she telling this woman all this? "That's when I knew I had to get out of there. I mean..."

Angel nodded and touched her forehead. "Relax," she whispered, and Priscilla did, sinking back on the bed. "I'm sorry," Angel said. "That's when you knew that she would be against you, no matter what you did."

Priscilla nodded.

"So, what did you do?"

"I decided to come to try to go to college here – in the city – and maybe I could live with Steph. And never go back home."

Angel smiled. "So, you're hoping to take up residence here. In my house."

"Well, I didn't know where she lived when..."

Angel smiled. "Go back to sleep," she said as she stood up, and the next thing Priscilla knew it was morning.

 
Priscilla came back into the bedroom wrapped in a towel and drying her hair. "No wonder you wanted to shower first," she said. "The hot water..."

She stopped as Stephanie held up her hand, pointing at the open door to the hall with her other hand. They heard the knock at the front door again, and then, a moment later, they heard the door open and Angel said, "Miss Sleet. This is becoming a regular occurrence. Is there a chance that this is a social call for a change?"

They couldn't hear Jan Sleet's reply, but a moment later they heard the front door close, and then footsteps going into the kitchen.

"Is this about Mr. Gerard again?" Angel asked, her voice cold. "I don't think I am in a mood to answer any more questions about him. Or anything else."

"I'm not here to ask questions," the detective said, and they heard a chair scrape on the floor. "I am here to say something, about my daughter."

There was a pause, then Angel said, "That grubby little urchin you've adopted? What does she have to do with me?"

"She had a visit in school yesterday, from a woman named Terry Nelson. She was pretending to be the new civics teacher, but that was a lie. This is very alarming, and it must not happen again."

There was a longer pause, and then Angel said in a quieter voice, "Why is this alarming, and, as I asked before, what does it have to do with me?"

The girls, who had tiptoed to the top of the stairs by then, heard another chair move, as if Angel had sat down also.

"This woman, Terry Nelson, has been known to... She is unstable, and–"

They heard a third woman's voice, deeper and more commanding than Angel's. "My sister is not dangerous. The only violence she has ever done was to herself, as you know. And, as you also know, she really is a teacher."

"Tammy," Jan said, her voice resigned.

Priscilla looked a question to Stephanie, who shook her head.

"The point," Jan said slowly, "is this. If Terry wants to see my daughter..." There was a long pause. "...her granddaughter, she would be more than welcome to come and have dinner with us. We would enjoy that. And if she wants to become a teacher... to really teach at our school, there's a process for that as well."

 
"Okay, what was that all about? Who is this Tammy woman?" She saw Stephanie's expression. "Stop making faces. I will add this to the growing list of secrets that I will carry to my grave. I..."

"This isn't a joke, Pris. If people learn who I am and where I live, I could be killed. I... I'm under a lot of pressure here, with running the store, and Mr. Drenkenson, and..."

The tears came, and Priscilla hugged her.

"I'm sorry," Priscilla said finally. "Here I'm hoping to come live with you, and all I can do is piss you off."

Stephanie looked up, wiping her tears with her sleeve. "What?"

"Never mind. Tell me about Tammy. I promise not to tell anybody."

"She is Angel. They're the same person. And I guess there's a Terry, too."

"So, she's crazy?" Priscilla whispered.

"I don't know." She smiled ruefully, wiping her eyes again. "Damn it, Pris. I'm a superhero, not a doctor."

Priscilla rolled her eyes. "Idiot."

"But she is apparently several different people, at least. And she is Jan Sleet's mother."

Priscilla digested this. "I guess they're not close."

"I think Jan's close with her father. He's here to visit her. Oh, I didn't tell you that. Professor Vinnie, who we ate dinner with last night? He's her father. Jan Sleet's father."

"The guy with the dog?" She grinned suddenly. "Did he get Daphne at your store?"

Stephanie laughed. "No, we don't sell that breed."

"Is everybody weird here? And don't tell me you're not." She gestured at the hooks along the wall where the parts of Stephanie's superhero costume were hanging up and drying.

"Yeah. Every one of us. You'll fit in fine. Come on, we should get going. I want to show you how to work the cash register before we open."

"Wait. What?"

 
Stephanie unlocked the door of the pet store, and three dogs ran up from the back of the store and surrounded her, barking and jumping up and down. Several puppies in cages started barking also.

She laughed as she squatted and petted the dogs. "Time for their walk, I'd say," she said. "You get to do that while I do the other cleaning up."

"I'm thinking of starting a union."

"Oh, come on. Would you rather be on poo patrol?"

"I don't know what that is, but I'm saying no."

Stephanie took a leash from a hook on the wall. It had one end for the person to hold, and several clips at the other end, which she started to attach to the dogs' collars.

"Do I get benefits at this job?"

Stephanie gestured at the paper bag on the counter, which contained two cups of coffee and two muffins.

"Breakfast is a benefit," she said.

"Well, it's not really..." She pointed at one of the animals Stephanie was attaching to the leash. "That's a cat."

"Oh, good. You'll work out well here."

Priscilla made a face. "You're walking a cat?"

Stephanie shrugged as she handed the end of the leash to her friend. "No, you're walking her. She likes it."

 
"So," Stephanie said as they had their coffee and muffins, "what is the plan? Why do you get all evasive when I ask how long you're planning to be visiting?"

"Well..."

Stephanie sighed. "I always get nervous when you get weird. So, you want to go to college in the city, live with me, and work here. Right?"

"Um. Well, kind of." Stephanie just waited. "Okay, yes, pretty much that. I promise I won't reveal any of your secrets, or how weird your roommates are, or... anything like that. And I promise not to pester you about coming along with you when you go out superheroing."

"Don't worry. I don't think you're sidekick material. Well, I guess I should show you around the store. Come on."

 
Priscilla got up on her tiptoes and looked out the window of the office. "What's out there?"

Stephanie shrugged. "The back yard, obviously."

"Who does that belong to?"

"I'm not sure it 'belongs' to anybody." She looked out also. "Doesn't look like anybody is using it for anything." She sniffed. "Except garbage."

"How do you get back there?"

"Why would you want to? It's a mess, and it smells even worse."

"Well, I thought maybe we could..." She caught her friend's sudden frown. "What?"

Stephanie closed the window. "Come on."

She led Priscilla out the front door of the store, around to the side and down a garbage-strewn alley, and into the rear yard.

Priscilla's eyes widened and she held her hand over her nose and mouth. "That's–"

Stephanie pulled a bandanna out of her pocket. "Run inside and soak this in the sink. Then hand it to me out the window."

"But what–"

"Hurry up. I know what that smell is." She pointed at the low metal doors. "And it's coming from the basement. It may be a dead rat, but I doubt it. Hurry up. And get me the ring of keys that's hanging by the door to the bathroom."

 
to be continued...

This story started here.

Stephanie sighed as Vinnie and Daphne left. She considered closing the store early, but she really wanted to think everything through before she acted. And she needed to make some sales, too. That morning she'd received the weekly shipment of pet food, which she'd paid for in cash, so she was pretty broke.

It had been the first time she'd gone to the bridge in the early morning to get the deliveries alone. Standing around with all the other people from area shops and restaurants, she suddenly felt one step closer to owning the store.

She had to think about whether she should try to get some part-time help. How was she even supposed to figure out whether she could afford to hire somebody? But that was not the main area where she wished she had help.

She wished she had somebody to review cases with. When she was young, she'd seen her father talking things through with his deputies when he had questions. And, as she grew up, more and more often she had been included in those discussions as well.

Ordinarily, if she was really stuck she could go talk to Miss Sleet, but that wouldn't be possible now.

And sometimes she ran through cases with Angel, who was polite enough to listen and comment even when she obviously didn't care all that much.

But Stephanie definitely couldn't talk to Angel about this, because the thing that Stephanie knew, the thing that Vinnie had wanted to know but hadn't been able to figure out how to force her to reveal, was that Angel Valentine was actually Jan Sleet's mother.

So, if the case was too close to home for the great detective, well, it was pretty close to home for Stephanie, too.

But Stevie One was not going to risk letting a murderer go free just because it might be somebody she cared about. That was not how she had been raised and trained, and she had a responsibility as U-town's protector.

The rest of the afternoon was pretty busy as several of her steady customers came in for their pet food orders and other needs. They knew what day the shipments came in, and she'd pre-packed the orders for her regulars and lined them up neatly on the counter. As Mr. Drenkenson had always told her, it was great when somebody bought a kitten or a puppy, but the backbone of the business was the regular customers for supplies like pet food.

But then it was time to close, and as she turned off the lights and locked the store she realized how hungry she was. She knew she should get going on the case, but she still had no idea what to do, so a meal seemed like a good idea. If she went home and Larry and Angel were eating they would usually invite her to join them, but she needed to think everything through before she saw them.

She had some cash, but she didn't want to spend any more than she had to until she had a firmer handle on the store's finances, so she planned to go to her usual Chinese takeout place. It was tiny, in a small basement storefront, and Angel had said it was the most unhealthy looking place she'd ever seen. But the food was edible, at least by Stephanie's standards, and very cheap.

"Steph!"

Stephanie turned and stood motionless, the key still in her hand, surprised and amazed as her friend Priscilla ran up and hugged her.

After a moment, she hugged back.

"When... Why didn't..."

"When did I get here? This afternoon. Why didn't I call?"

"Because we don't have phones."

"How did I find you? I asked around when I got over the bridge. People told me to go to the hotel, and there was this weird bald kid there who told me to come here."

"Why–"

Priscilla shook her head. "I have a question for you. When can we eat, and when can I sit down? I've been walking for hours." She arched an eyebrow. "Unless you have plans for tonight? Like a date..."

Stephanie hugged her again. "You'd be a priority over any date I could have. Which I don't have anyway."

Priscilla grinned and whispered, "I don't imagine you have much time for dating, what with being a superhero and all." She pulled back and said, "So, where are we going to eat?"

Stephanie stood stock still, telling her suddenly-aching stomach that she trusted Pris completely, including about secrets even more important than this one.

"Uh," she said.

Priscilla waited (it would not be completely accurate to say that she waited "patiently").

Stephanie stood up straighter. "Okay," she said. "Dinner. I have a little cash, and I know a really nice place." She picked up Priscilla's suitcase. "I'm taking you to dinner."

Priscilla looked around. "I don't suppose there's a bus, or a cab, or something."

Stephanie shook her head. "That's not how we do things here. Come on – I can give you a pan to soak your feet later." She smiled. "And I can tell you how much I walk in an average night, when I'm doing that thing that we're not going to talk about at dinner."

Priscilla made a face. "You don't mean that you're not going to tell me–"

"At dinner. We are not going to talk about that in public. I'll tell you all about it later, when we're alone." She put down the suitcase and looked Priscilla in the eye. "That thing, that thing that you know – somehow – that has to remain a secret. You need to promise that, Pris."

Looking resigned, Priscilla extended her pinky. "Okay." Stephanie hooked her pinky around Priscilla's. "Pinky swear," Priscilla said.

Stephanie nodded and picked up the suitcase again. "The restaurant is this way. They have the best seafood."

Stephanie knew the very limited food options Priscilla had grown up with, and she thought it was better not to start her off with any of U-town's more exotic offerings. At least seafood would be something she'd heard of.

After they'd walked about half a block (Priscilla always got quiet for a few minutes when you forced her to get serious about anything), they turned to each other and said, "So, why did you cut your hair?"

They laughed.

"I'm the guest," Priscilla said, "So I should go first, but mine is sort of depressing, so you can go first."

"Well, mine is sort of depressing, too. When I ran away from home, I thought they'd be coming after me, looking for me, so I thought I'd better change my appearance." She sighed. "I was so scared they'd catch me and bring me home and force me to have the baby. But then I found out that nobody was even looking for me..."

"Yeah."

"Anyway, I kind of like it shorter. Easier to wash. What about you?"

Priscilla stopped, planted her hands on her hips, and said in her whiniest voice, "Are we there yet?"

"Don't you give me trouble now, young lady. We'll get there when we get there. What about your hair?"

"My stepmother... She decided I was a slut. Her word. It got pretty bad." Stephanie suddenly felt very guilty for not staying in better touch since she'd left home. "It got so bad that I told her that, yes, I do sleep with boys, but that's a lot better than sleeping with a married man."

Stephanie winced, both because of what had happened and because she could imagine her father's reaction if she'd ever said anything like that, to anybody.

Then she looked around and realized that they'd nearly walked past the restaurant, which didn't have a sign. "Hey, your poor aching feet can rest a while. Here we are."

Stephanie explained that the restaurant had several long tables, and people sat wherever they could. The ceiling had bare beams, with lanterns hanging here and there. The tables, the chairs, and the floor were made of rough-hewn, dark wood, thickly coated with varnish.

It was still fairly early in the evening, so there were some empty seats. In a couple of hours there would be a line out the door. Stephanie had been raised that dinner was always at 6:30pm sharp, so she was amazed at how late some people had dinner in U-town.

They started to move to a table which had some empty places at one end, but then they heard a loud bark from the other side of the room.

Eager to see Priscilla's reaction to Daphne, Stephanie said, "Oh, there are two friends of mine. Let's go sit with them."

She led Priscilla across the room to the table where Vinnie and Daphne sat. They were side by side, with two open seats opposite them.

"Professor," Stephanie said, "this is Priscilla. She's visiting from my home town. Pris, this is Professor..." She laughed. "You'd better just call him Vinnie. I can't pronounce his last name." Daphne barked, and Stephanie added, "And this is Daphne."

Vinnie half rose in his seat and held out his hand, so Priscilla shook it. Daphne barked again, and Vinnie said, "Let her smell your hand."

Priscilla looked like she wasn't sure whether this was a joke, but she leaned forward and held out her hand.

Stephanie made a mental note to mention to Priscilla later that both Vinnie and Daphne were obviously appreciating the view down the neck of Priscilla's sweater as she leaned toward them.

Stephanie and Priscilla were about the same height, but they were different in pretty much every way. Stephanie was blonde, with thin hair and blue eyes. Priscilla had full, dark hair (with red highlights – but Stephanie knew that was from henna) and brown eyes. Stephanie's body was lean and athletic, and Priscilla... well, as Stephanie's cousin Betty had said once, girls liked to say that Priscilla was fat, but boys didn't care. Boys, middle-aged college professors, and dogs, apparently.

Daphne sniffed Priscilla's hand and licked it.

"May we join you?" Priscilla asked, straightening up and smiling.

Vinnie gestured. "Please do."

They sat down, and Priscilla said, "So, where do you teach, professor? I'm here to look at colleges – and to visit Stephanie, of course."

Vinnie laughed. "I'm here on a visit, too, though my goal is the opposite of yours. I'm here to get away from college."

"He teaches in Italy," Stephanie explained, and Priscilla laughed.

"Well, I am trying to get away from home," she said, "but maybe not that far away."

A waiter came over and asked, "What'll you have?"

Priscilla looked confused, but Stephanie pointed at the chalkboard next to the door.

"That's it," she said. She turned to the waiter. "We'll both have cups of chowder, and I'll have the scallops."

Daphne barked, and Vinnie said, "She had the scallops, and I gather they were first rate."

Priscilla, who couldn't quite read the chalkboard without her glasses, said, "I'll have the scallops, too."

The waiter went away, and she said to Vinnie, "You've eaten already?"

He nodded. "We have." He seemed to stress the "we," and Priscilla took that as a hint that she should have addressed the question to Daphne as well. "We were just having another glass of wine before we go."

Priscilla looked around. "Can we get wine, too?"

Vinnie held up a hand. "It's our bottle, and it's good wine. Please have some."

He caught the waiter's eye and pointed two fingers at the table in front of the girls.

"Oh, thank you," Priscilla said as two wine glasses appeared.

Vinnie held up the bottle, but Stephanie put her hand over her glass. "None for me, thanks, professor. I have some things to do later." She saw that Priscilla might be about to say something clever, so she added, "I really need to get a handle on the store's finances, and I think it's probably not a good idea to do bookkeeping when you're drunk."

Vinnie nodded as he filled Priscilla's glass. "I imagine that's true." He split the remainder between his own glass and the small bowl in front of Daphne.

"So," he said, "it sounds like you're taking over the store. Will that be permanent?"

"Taking over the store?" Priscilla asked. She looked from Vinnie to Stephanie. "I don't understand."

"I'm sorry," Vinnie said, leaning forward, "did I bring up the wrong thing?"

Stephanie shook her head. "No, it's not like it's a secret. I was just enjoying a few minutes of not thinking about it." She turned to Priscilla and said, "My boss, Mr. Drenkenson, he was knifed to death in the store, night before last."

Priscilla's eyes were wide. "Oh, my God. Do they know who did it?"

Stephanie shook her head. "Not yet."

"Wow."

Priscilla drank some of her wine as the bowls of chowder arrived.

Stephanie dove right in, ignoring her friend's distraction. Vinnie smiled, sipping his wine.

Priscilla swallowed the wine, looked down, frowned at her chowder, cleared her throat, and picked up her spoon.

"It tastes even better if you actually eat it," Stephanie said after a moment.

Priscilla nodded slowly, dipping her spoon into the soup.

"Don't feel bad about Drenkenson," Daphne said. "He was a creep. He tried to force himself on Stephanie."

Priscilla's expression flickered between surprise that Daphne had spoken, shock at what she'd just learned, and sudden appreciation for the soup she had just put in her mouth.

Daphne smiled, looking pleased with herself, as she leaned forward to lap up some wine from her bowl.

 
"So, where do you live? And, most important, is it close?"

"I'm carrying the bag, what do you care?"

"You just do not care about my poor, aching feet."

"True, but you knew that already. Are you going to ask me about Daphne?"

"Probably, at some point, but there are a lot of other things that I'm more curious about."

"Like where you're going to sleep."

"And other things. Should I ask about Stevie One first, or about your boss getting murdered?"

"Well, let's take the bad one first. He was killed one night, in the store, long after closing. Jan Sleet has investigated–"

"Jan Sleet? Oh, my God. You've met her?"

"Uh, well, I've worked with her on a few cases, actually."

"Okay, now I'm impressed. I guess you've worked with her as Stevie One, right?"

"Yes."

"Does she know who you are?"

"Of course. I couldn't keep a secret from her. But how do you know?"

"I'm hoping to go to college over in the city, so I sent for information from all the ones that seemed good... and, you know, that I had a prayer of getting into."

"Because you're getting away from–"

"One thing at a time. One of the colleges – Schermerhorn – they included a copy of their school newspaper in the packet they sent me. I guess they have interns at your newspaper here, and one of them wrote a thing about you, about Stevie One. Including when she – you – first appeared, which wasn't that long after you left home. I knew you were coming here, and I just knew it was you."

"You... how did you know? Just from that?"

She laughed. "Who else could it possibly be?"

Stephanie laughed, too. "We're nearly there–" she began.

"Praise the Lord!"

"Shush. I need to tell you about Angel and Larry."

"Who?"

"The people I live with. I hope they're going to be okay with you staying for a few days... How long are you staying?"

"Uhhh... Well, so what about these Angel and Larry people?"

"Larry picked me up on the highway, hitchhiking, when I was coming here. We kind of hit it off–"

"Oh, my God–"

"No. Nothing like that. He's a grown man, an adult, and he's with Angel. He's training me. Weapons, unarmed fighting, everything."

"And how does he know so much–"

"Officially, I don't know."

"Unofficially? Wait a minute, you're living with a crook?"

"No. Let's not get into that. And Angel, I don't know that much about her."

"And what you do know, you're not going to tell me. Why did you even bring this up if you weren't going to tell me anything?"

"Here we are."

Priscilla stopped and looked at the shabby little building. "This is it?"

"It is. Home. Come on."

They went up the stairs to the front door and Stephanie let them in. "I don't know if they're home," she said as they went down the dark hallway. "We usually hang out in the kitchen. It's the warmest room in the..." Her voice trailed off as they turned the corner, saw that the kitchen was empty, and heard a guttural howl from upstairs.

"Ah," Stephanie said. "They're here." She caught Priscilla's look. "Angel is not quiet when they get going."

There was another bellow from upstairs. "I'll say," Priscilla said, looking up at the ceiling, her eyes wide.

"Come on," Stephanie said, motioning for Priscilla to follow her up the narrow stairs. They tiptoed up, though Stephanie knew that there was no chance they could possibly be heard over the rhythmic thumping and related noises from Angel's bedroom.

Stephanie pointed at the door to her bedroom and they went in. Priscilla looked around, frowning at Stephanie's meager furnishings. She pointed at Stephanie's bed and whispered, "I am not sharing that tiny bed with you. No wonder you can't get any dates."

Stephanie laughed. "You don't need to worry. You can have the bed. I'll bring up a couple of exercise mats from the basement later. I can sleep on those."

Priscilla sat on the bed and kicked off her sneakers. "I really need a shower, but I'm too tired. I'll have one in the morning." She lifted her suitcase up on the bed, opened it, and took out a toothbrush and toothpaste. "Where's the bathroom?"

Stephanie pointed. "Right across the hall."

Priscilla shuffled off in that direction as Stephanie started to remove her clothes. She noticed that there was a lull in the noise from the other bedroom.

She had the bottom half of her costume on and was smelling the armpits of her three tops, trying to figure out which was the cleanest (and making a mental note that she had to do laundry that night or in the morning) when Priscilla came back in with a dazed look on her face.

Stephanie frowned. "What's up?" she asked. She tossed two of the tops into a corner and pulled the other one on.

Priscilla grabbed her wrist and pulled her over so they were sitting next to each other on the bed.

"The weirdest thing just happened," she whispered, her mouth so close to Stephanie that the smell of toothpaste was almost overwhelming. "I was brushing my teeth, and looking around to see if there was any mouthwash, when the bathroom door opened and this woman came in. She just kind of drifted in, like she didn't even see me. She was completely naked, with white skin and white hair. Everywhere. She sort of glided over to the... toilet and sat down, then she noticed me and smiled.

"'Oh, hello dear,' she said. She held out her hand and said, 'I'm Angel.'

"I shook her hand, and then I had to spit before I could tell her who I was, but she just smiled and waited. I told her my name and I'm not even sure she heard the part about me being your friend. She just finished up and smiled, and as she left she squeezed my shoulder and said, 'So nice to have you here.'"

Stephanie chuckled. "At least she didn't throw you out."

"Is she on drugs?"

"Oh, no, I don't think so. She was probably just... you know. Relaxed."

"Satisfied."

"Yeah. At least for the moment." She caught Priscilla's expression. "And don't even start about me." She stood up and pulled on her mask. "I'm going out to help some people, and maybe kick some ass. Don't wait up."

 
to be continued...