“How
long
have
you
lived
here?” Maybe
Lacey
was
being
unfair
about the place. Maybe
they
just
moved
in. Maybe the carpet had been stained by the
previous
occupants.
“Oh, four
or
five
years,
why?”
“Just
wondering.”
Lacey
tried
not
to
stare
at
the
decor. Stacks of books leaned against the wall in the
hallway.
The
cardboard boxes spilled their contents on the
unmentionable
carpet.
“Tell
me
something.”
Wendy
leaned
forward,
elbows
on
knees.
“Why
should
Cassie
want
you
to
find
out what happened to her?
That’s
what the police are
for,
unless of course
they’re
paid to look the other
way.
She
doesn’t
even
like
you. And you
don’t
like
her.
So
why
you?”
“You
don’t
sugarcoat
anything,
do
you,
Wendy?”
“Why
should
I?
I’m
just
being
honest.
You’re
just
a
parasite,
you
and
the
whole
monolithic
reactionary
media.
Nothing
personal.”
Being honest
was
so
overrated,
Lacey
thought. “Does that mean you
don’t
like
me too?” she
asked.
“I
just
met
you.”
She
gave
an
offhanded
shrug.
“If
Cassie
wants
you to
find
out what happened, then so do I.
And,”
she added
logically,
“it’s
not
like
I
have
to
like
you.”
“No, you
don’t,”
Lacey
agreed.
Neither
do
I.
“Well,
that’s
out
of
the
way.
So
why
don’t
we
start.”
She
was
thirsty.
A
glass
of
water
would
have
been nice, or
even
better a cup of hot tea,
anything
to cut the thick atmosphere of dog hair that
was
begin
ning to
fill
her throat and lungs,
but
she
wasn’t
about to ask.
Townsend
apparently
wasn’t
about to
offer.
“Does Cassandra
have
any
enemies?”
“Everyone
has
enemies.”
“Anyone
specifically?”
“Besides you?”
“I am not her
enemy.
I am her
coworker,
as we
have
already established. But I am not her
enemy.”
Lacey
stood up. She
was
finding
it hard to breathe in the small close room. “I’m
involved
because Cassandra
asked
me to
be.”
“Wow,
Smithsonian.
No
need
to
be
touchy.
There
is
that
chubby
woman
who wears all the
offensive sweaters.”
“They
are not
offensive,”
Lacey
said, resuming the edge of her seat.
“They
are
festive.”
Wendy
shrugged.
“Whatever.
She’s
dangerous,
did
you
know
that?”
“Leaving
aside Felicity
Pickles.”
“Fine. There is also the global capitalist cabal, which is de
stroying
the
planet.”
Wendy
changed positions and crossed her
legs,
raising a fog of dog
fur.
“And
leaving
aside the dogma.
Specifics,
Wendy.
I’m talk ing about threats
anyone
might
have
made to Cassandra, or con flicts, disagreements,
arguments,
strange emails,
anything
new
or unusual or out of
place.”
“Not that I
know
of.”
Wendy
sighed. It seemed to be really hard for her to focus on things in her immediate
world,
rather than the important questions
facing
the planet.
Think
globally,
slack
locally,
Lacey
thought. “Odd visitors,
stalkers,
weird phone calls?”
“I
don’t
know.
We
all
have
our
own
cell phones. No one
even
calls on the
wall
phone.
We
only use it to order
takeout.”
“Was
Cassandra upset about
anything
lately?”
Wendy
rolled her
eyes.
“Yes!
That crazy
sweaterwearing
cookiebaking monster that you
don’t
want
me to talk about.
Why
are you protecting her?”
“I’m not.
It’s
just too
obvious
to blame
her,
too
easy.
It feels
like
a cheap
setup.”
“It
doesn’t
mean she
didn’t
attack Cassie! Because
it’s
obvi
ous it
can’t
be true?”
Lacey
sighed and shifted in her seat. She realized that it
was
getting
cold
in
the
house.
The
temperature
outside
must
be
falling.
“How
close are you to Cassandra?”
“We’re
best friends.
You
don’t
think I did it, do you?” Sud
denly
Wendy
was
standing
up
and
pressing
forward
into
Lacey’s
space, alarm crossing her features.
“Did you
ever
fight
with Cassandra?”
“We’re
pacifists!
We
don’t
believe
in violence!”
“Really?
Garrison
of
Gaia
has
a
reputation
for
violence.
Arson at construction sites, sabotage against developers
and
logging companies. Harassment of
employees.
Confrontations at demonstrations.
Like
your stint in the
tree.”
“But
that’s
for the planet!” She punched the air with her
fist.
“That’s
only to protect the
environment
from the Earth rapers.
We
don’t
endorse
violence
against
humans.
We
tolerate
humans!”
Lacey
leaned
back
away
from
her.
The
dog
banged
against
the
door
again
and
she
jumped.
“How
about
someone
close
to
her?”
she
asked.
Wendy
hesitated.
“What
about
Alex
Markham?
Did
they
have
a good relationship?”
“Alex
adores
Cassandra,”
Wendy
said
reluctantly.
“They’ve
always
been close.
Very
close. I’m not sure
he’s
ever
gotten
over
her.”
“They
dated?”
“Oh yes. Friends with
benefits,
you
know,
only more so. His feelings got in the
way.
I think it hurt him a lot when Cassie
started
seeing
Henderson.
Things
got
complicated.
Listen,
I
have
things to
do.”
Wendy
moved
toward
the
door,
a signal that it
was
time for
Lacey
to
leave.
“What
about
Henderson
Wilcox
then?”
Lacey
would
be
grateful to
leave.
Bruno could
have
his
sofa
back. She reflected that it
was
funny
that people say
they
want
to talk,
but
then
they
take
their
own
sweet time to get to the real
stuff.
And by the time
they
do,
they’re
tired of talking to a
reporter.
“Wilcox
said
they
were getting back
together.
So
they
broke
up? And
now
he’s
dating
Cassandra
again?
When
did
all
this
happen? When
did he
move
out of this house?”
Wendy
winced
visibly.
“I
don’t
know,
he
moved
out about
six months ago,
he’s
been seeing her
off
and on,
but
he’s
been
fair
game
too,
if
you
know
what
I
mean.”
“Afraid
not.”
Lacey
was
glad
for
her
jacket,
which
she
wrapped around
her.
She hunted for her
gloves
in her
pockets.
“Fair
game
for
whom?”
Wendy
sighed
one
of
those
big
you
mayaswellknowthetruth
sighs.
“I’ve
been sleeping with Henderson too, all right? Friends with
benefits,
right? He
didn’t
tell me
anything
about getting back together with Cassie.
News
to
me.”
Lacey
didn’t
know
what to say about this furry little hotbed of strange
bedfellows.
She tried to visualize the odd, prickly Cassandra in this
shabby,
dogfurlined
passion pit. She tried to
keep
her
expression
neutral. “So are
they
or are
they
not getting back together?”
“When he heard she
was
in the hospital, he went running back to
her.
Just for the moment, a natural reaction, I think,
but
who
knows.”
“How
does that make you feel, about the two of them, I
mean?”
“I don’t
know!
I mean,
we’re
all just friends,
really.
The
Gaia
Movement
is bigger than our petty little
affairs.
We
should be able to be adults about this
..
.
.”
She
looked
as if she were about to
cry.
Instead,
Wendy
opened the
door.
A gust of wintry air
blew
past them into the dirty little house. It
was
cold out,
but
Lacey
felt better with the door open. She heard Bruno
make
one
more
thundering
crash
against
the
basement
door.