Hanging Time

56

Jason pulled over a chair and sat down next to Camille. The dog struggled to get away from her. Before Camille realized what he was up to, Jason reached over and took the puppy onto his lap. She stiffened, but didn’t object.

“Hi there, fella.” Jason scratched the dog’s ears. Puppy climbed up and licked his face. Out of the corner of his eye Jason watched Camille. She had been rendered immobile by this new threat.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his key ring. It was red and had a small knife-and-scissor set attached. He held out the keys to the dog and shook them like a rattle, ignoring the patient. The puppy hesitated for a second, its small body and front feet pulled back into a crouch. Suddenly it pounced on the key ring like a mountain lion. Funny dog. Jason laughed.

“Do you mind if he plays with this?” He finally acknowledged Camille.

“It’s okay.” Camille didn’t look as if it was okay at all. Behind the curtain of hair, she looked rigid with disapproval.

“This is a pretty friendly puppy. What’s its name?”

“Puppy.”

“Hunh?” Interesting choice of names.

“I had a dog a long time ago,” Jason murmured. “I had forgotten how much I miss her. What’s Puppy’s sex?”

“She’s a girl.”

Jason put the key ring on the table close to Camille. Puppy jumped at it. Jason watched Camille. She had no reaction to the knife, clearly wanted her baby back.

“Well, maybe I’ll put my keys away. It looks like she wants to come back to you again.”

Camille took the dog from Jason, then relaxed. “She’s a good dog.”

“Yes, she is. Where did you get her?”

Camille hugged her baby, regarded her fondly. “We got her from a breeder,” she said in a baby voice.

“So you knew you wanted a poodle?” Jason crossed his legs the other way. This was going to take a while.

“Oh, absolutely.” Camille kissed the dog again and again. Puppy licked her face.

“All I know about poodles is they’re very smart; they’re high-strung; and they don’t cause allergies.”

Camille laughed and freed her hands so that she could clap them. “Right on all counts. My sister had allergies when she was a child. I have them now. We figured a poodle was especially safe. So we both got one.”

Jason leaned over. “You mean you have a poodle and your sister has a poodle?” This was news to him.

Camille laughed again. “Yes, it’s the same dog, except my sister’s dog lives with her and my dog lives with me. They’re carbon copies, just like us.”

“I see,” Jason said gently. He certainly didn’t see the sisters as carbon copies, and Milicia had never mentioned having a dog. “What made you get them?”

“Oh, I was lonely,” Camille said vaguely. And Milicia thought being nice could get her back. It didn’t work. Camille shivered and pulled a strand of hair over her face.

“Was it your sister’s idea to get the dogs?”

“No, no,” Camille said fiercely. “I wanted it first. She had to come with me to get it for me.”

Jason nodded. He could see that Camille didn’t have the presence to buy a dog. “Did you both plan to get one?”

“No.” Fierce again. “I wanted the dog. Bouck didn’t want a dog. He wouldn’t get it for me. We had a big fight. My sister hates Bouck, so she got me the dog.” She paused. “She said she’d take it if Bouck wouldn’t keep it. Then I could visit it at her house.”

Jason nodded again. “So you went to the breeder,” he prompted.

Camille made her shrill, high-pitched sound that tried to be a laugh. “Yes, and my sister changed her mind. She had to have the same dog. Same color, same sex. Everything.”

“So she has a dog?” Jason asked again, just to be sure she meant Milicia had a dog.

“Oh, yes. Same dog.”

Interesting. Now he knew something about Milicia he hadn’t known before. He had another piece of the sisters’ puzzle.

“Dogs make great companions. Have you always had one?”

Camille responded to this by covering her whole face with her thick mane of tangled hair. She didn’t answer.

He tried a different tack. “What about Bouck? I guess he didn’t mind about Puppy after all.”

Behind her hair, Camille giggled. “Not after the break-in.”

What break-in? Jason made a mental note to come back to the break-in. “How does Puppy feel about being here?”

“She’s okay as long as I’m here.”

“Oh, that’s good, because if she has to stay around here too long, she may get bored.” He paused, waiting for Camille to relax again. “How do you feel about being here?”

Camille started swaying from side to side, so the curtain of hair in front of her face swung back and forth. “It’s a horrible place. I hate it. I want to go home.”

“I can understand that. How do you feel about talking to me? Would you rather the officer stays, or waits outside?”

Abruptly Camille pushed her hair back and sat up, looking around as if she were upset about forgetting the officer in the corner.

“She can leave.”

Jason nodded at Goldie. “It’s okay if you wait outside.”

The officer hesitated, then got up and left.

Jason processed Camille’s response. He saw it as a healthy thing that she trusted him with her dog, then felt there was enough of a relationship between them to allow the guard to leave.

“What happened?” he asked as soon as the door closed. “How do you come to be here at the police station tonight?”

Camille shook her head. She didn’t want to tell him. “They do that to people sometimes. Tonight it was my turn.”

“Did something happen to make it your turn?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you tell me about what you’ve been doing the last few days.”

“What about them?”

“Oh, like how you spent your time the last few days before you came here to the police station. What’s your routine? What are your days like?”

Camille thought for a long time. Then she said: “I’m decorating the house. That takes a lot of time.”

“Is that the house where you live?”

“Yes.” Camille looked down at Puppy. Puppy was lying limp in her lap. Camille stroked her.

“Who lives there with you?” he asked.

“Puppy.”

“Anyone else?”

“Bouck does.”

“Tell me about Bouck.”

Camille shook her head. “He told me not to.”

“Bouck told you not to talk about him?”

She was silent.

“Is Bouck the reason you’re at the police station tonight?”

“No, Bouck hates the police. He says the police don’t protect anybody. We have to protect ourselves.”

“Does Bouck protect you?”

“Oh, yes. We have locks on all the doors and Bouck won’t let me go out unless I’m feeling just right. And he tells me how I have to be careful on the street.”

“The city’s a pretty dangerous place,” Jason agreed. “Have you ever been attacked or followed?”

Camille looked at him shrewdly. “No,” she said flatly. “Have you?”

He made a tiny noncommittal motion with his head and went on. “Do you ever feel people on the street are dangerous?”

Again the shrewd look. “Anybody can be a mugger.” Camille played with her hair. “You never know.”

True enough. The woman wasn’t stupid.

“What about salespeople in the grocery store or restaurants? Do you ever think they mean you ill, like they’re out to get you?”

Camille laughed. “That’s crazy. Do you think I’m crazy?”

She seemed lucid, didn’t appear to be delusional. He went on without answering. “Sometimes people can hear voices when no one else is around.”

“That’s crazy, too.”

Jason smiled. She was shrewd, didn’t want to appear crazy. “Tell me about the last few days,” he repeated. His stomach growled. Very discreetly he glanced at his watch. Ten hours had passed since he’d had something to eat. He remembered that April had promised him food. He wondered if she was out getting it for him.