CHAPTER 7.

"'I equate days to music,' she explained. 'Some play out like Pachelbel's Canon performed by the New York Symphony Orchestra. Others are more like a badly composed Beatles medley that you're forced to listen to while on hold for the dentist.'"

-Sex, Drugs and Murder The party itself was fun if not particularly memorable. I signed a few books and managed to enjoy myself, although I made a point of telling Marcus what I had sacrificed to be there. He showed his appreciation by cutting me an extra-large piece of chocolate cake that he personally dosed with brandy.

When the festivities were over he gave me a ride home and idled the car in front of my apartment. He turned the music down so we could hear ourselves talk over the Material Girl. "Thanks so much for coming, Soph. It just made Steve's night."

I nodded. "He's a nice guy. He told me that when things get bad he escapes into one of my books. Considering what he's escaping I think that may be the greatest compliment of my life."

"Yeah." Marcus pulled gently on one of his locks. "That boy has gotten damn skinny. The reason we wrapped things up at nine is that he tires out so fast. He did seem to be having fun, though, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he was having fun." I covered Marcus's hand with my own. "The party was perfect. You did good."

Marcus smiled slightly and looked into the darkness.

I nudged him gently in the ribs. "Speaking of doing good, I didn't expect to see Donato there tonight."

Marcus's smile became more animated. "Mmm-hmm, Donato and I are a thang. He's fun, he's romantic, and damn girl, you should see him when he starts working those hips-and I am not talking about dancing, okay."

"I guess I'll have to take your word for it. He's kind of eccentric, isn't he?"

"Greek gods often are." I could see his eyes twinkle, despite the poor lighting. "He's meeting me at my place in an hour for a private worship session."

"Private worship session, huh? Well, far be it for me to keep you from your religious duties." I kissed him on the cheek and gathered up my purse and coat. "Do you have time to give me a deep condition and trim on Tuesday?"

"Honey, for you I'll make the time. Call the salon, they'll pencil you in."

"It's a date, then." I popped out of the car and watched as Marcus drove off.

"Hi, Sophie."

I turned to see Andy smiling down at me. "Hey, Andy, what are you doing here?"

He shuffled his feet awkwardly. "I just helped Mrs. Murphy carry some groceries home."

I noted the time. Nine-thirty, a bit late for a little old lady to be grocery shopping. Of course, for all I knew Mrs. Murphy could be some young socialite afraid of breaking a nail.

"Was that guy your boyfriend?"

"Hmm? Oh, Marcus? I wish. No, he's just a friend. I don't have a boyfriend." As soon as I said it I realized my mistake. Andy was about to ask me out, and I had just ruined what would have been a perfectly good excuse to say no.

"Well, Andy, it was good to see you. I've got to get upstairs-my cat's probably really hungry by now." Where were my keys? I felt them at the bottom of my purse. Great, now if I could just get inside quickly enough...

"Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

Shit.

"I could take you somewhere really nice. I've been saving money from my paychecks."

I looked at my keys hanging in the unopened lock. "Listen, Andy, I'm really flattered but-"

"But you don't want to go out with a retard."

"God, no! You're not a retard." Was he angry? I didn't even know he had a temper. "It's just that, well, I've got a lot going on right now and I simply don't have any time, so I've decided to hold off on dating for a while."

"So you're not dating anyone?" The cloud that had briefly darkened his features slipped away and was replaced by befuddlement. He looked like a kid who had just discovered he'd wandered too far from his parents.

"Nope." Not unless you're tall, dark and Russian, in which case I'm all over it.

Andy shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I guess I understand that."

I doubted that, but he was willing to accept it and that's all I cared about.

"Well, like I said, I've got to go feed the cat." It took concerted effort to hide my relief.

"Okay, Sophie. I'll see you soon, right?"

"Of course, Andy, I'll see you at the market." I was so good.

I felt my guard go up the minute I got into the apartment. I turned on every light and spent about a half hour meticulously checking for broken glass or anything unusual, but everything was as it should be. I stood in the middle of the living room and scowled at my published novels neatly lined up on the top bookshelf. How sad was it that I had actually lost the ability to tell the difference between fiction and reality? Dena has always said that prolonged sexual abstinence leads to early senility. I bent down to scratch Mr. Katz behind the ears.

"I'd better get Anatoly up here fast before I hurt myself diving through a looking-glass trying to find Hogwarts."

The next morning I let my fingers do the walking through all the emergency auto-window-replacement ads. The problem was that I didn't consider my need for a new driver's side window an emergency. It wasn't a new car, and I was pretty sure that the insurance company was going to consider it totaled, so why should I care if some homeless guy wanted to take a nap in it?

I closed the phone book and relaxed back into the chair. It was a typical cold, foggy San Francisco day. Perfect for lighting up a fire, taking the phone off the hook and reading a good book. I looked over at the bookcase.

There was a book on the top shelf that was slightly out of place. Funny, it hadn't been that way last night....

I mechanically rose from the chair. With every step toward that bookcase my heartbeat got a little louder. Without being able to see the title, all I could tell was that it was a novel from my series. I pulled it out. Sex, Drugs and Murder.

I dropped the book.

There was no uncertainty this time. And if it had been in the right place before I went to bed and if I hadn't left the apartment since then that meant someone had been in here....

"Oh my God." I could see the front door from where I stood. It was bolted and locked. I couldn't see any evidence of forced entry, but then there was always the window. Had they come in when I was asleep? When I was taking a shower? Were they still here? I tried to block out the faint street noise that filtered through my bay window in order to focus on any sounds that might be coming from inside. I thought I heard a quiet thump-so subtle that I couldn't swear that I had heard it at all. It could've been nothing. A figment of my overly anxious mind or a bird that had inadvertently brushed against the panes of glass in the bedroom.

Or it could've been an intruder lying in wait.

Mr. Katz purred and curled around my feet. Keeping my back against the bookcase, I bent my knees and with one arm scooped up the cat and with the other carefully picked up the book by the pages without touching the cover. I straightened to a standing position.

"Are you ready, Mr. Katz?" Mr. Katz struggled against me.

I took that as a yes and ran for the door. I fumbled with the locks, almost dropping the book and my pet. I needed to get out. I needed to get out and call the police, and this time they were going to take me seriously. I flew out the door and down a flight of stairs to the flat below, Mr. Katz hissing and clawing the whole way as I held him in a death grip. I pounded on the door of my neighbor's quarters.

"Theresa, it's me, Sophie. Let me in, it's an emergency."

Theresa threw open the door looking predictably sour-faced. Her expression became even more pinched when she saw Mr. Katz. "If you think you are going to bring that flea-bitten animal into my home..."

I pushed past her. "Theresa, I'm not kidding, there really is an emergency. I need to use your phone."

"You're trespassing. If you and your rodent don't get out of my flat this instant I am going to call the police. Do you understand me?"

"Oh, for God's sake. Here, I'll save you the trouble." I dropped Mr. Katz in favor of her princess phone sitting on the antique side table.

"Nine-one-one emergency," a voice recited on the other end of the line.

"Someone's broken into my home."

"Are they still on the premises?"

"I don't know."

"Where are you, ma'am?"

"I'm at my neighbor's in the apartment below."

"What's the number of your place?"

I gave her all the necessary information. After listening to my end of the conversation, Theresa seemed somewhat less inclined to kick me out and instead pulled a kitchen chair under her doorknob. The dispatcher didn't let me off the phone until the assigned officers buzzed the apartment. I picked up my book and Mr. Katz, who, by this time, was only marginally less traumatized than myself, and fought the urge to kick the door down as I waited for Theresa to let us out. I stepped out into the foyer just in time to see Officer Gorman coming up the stairs. We looked at each other, unsure of how to react.

Gorman's partner, a short, muscular young guy, ran up the stairs after him. He looked at Gorman questioningly.

Gorman nodded to him. "The next one up." He jerked his head back in my direction. "It's open?"

"Yeah, I didn't hang around long enough to lock up."

"Stay here." He and the short guy took the stairs two at a time.

I knew that I should stay where I was, but now that the police were there to give me a false sense of security I felt my curiosity getting the better of me. I gave them a few minutes to get in and look around before cautiously climbing the stairs after them. When I stepped through my door, Mr. Katz leaped out of my arms and dashed under the coffee table, a maneuver that almost sent Officer Gorman sprawling.

I shrank into the corner. "Sorry about that, he's a little nervous."

"Uh-huh."

The young cop came out of the bedroom. "No sign of anybody here. No sign of forced entry either."

"Nope."

I slammed my fist against the wall. "I did not make this up. Somebody was here. I don't know if they came and left in the middle of the night or if they were here more recently, but I know they were here."

The young one scratched the back of his head. "What was it that alerted you?"

"There was a book out of place."

A good sixty seconds passed before either of them found his voice. Finally Gorman cleared his throat. "A book?"

I squeezed my eyes shut. This just couldn't be happening again. "Okay, I know how lame that sounds, but you have to hear me out on this. I am not a crackpot. I know someone was here and I know it was the same person who vandalized my car."

Gorman sat down on the couch and the other officer leaned against the wall wearing a rather bemused expression.

I took a shaky deep breath. I had to make them believe me. "Okay, I told you about Sex, Drugs and Murder, right?"

"Sex, Drugs and Murder? Is that one of those alternative lifestyle courses they teach at Berkeley?" asked the young cop. Gorman lifted his hand as if to say, Don't ask.

"Look." I held the book out in front of me by the corner of two pages. "This is the book. This is also the book that was out of place on my bookshelf. It was placed on its back so that it was sticking out. Someone wants to be sure that I know that they are reenacting my book. And I think I just might be playing the part of the murder victim."

Neither of the officers said anything.

"All right. Maybe I'm not the murder victim. Maybe I'm the protagonist, Alicia Bright, and it's my job to figure out the crime. But I could be Kittie. Don't you guys get it? What the fuck am I supposed to do if I'm Kittie, the victim?"

"Drink milk?"

The young cop busted up laughing.

I bit down on my tongue. What exactly was the penalty for assaulting an officer? "You know, my life might be at stake here. Is it too much to ask that you pretend to care?"

The young cop pulled a glove out of his pocket and after putting it on took the book. "Tell you what. If it'll make you feel better, we can dust this for prints. You'll have to come down to the station and give us a set of your own prints so we can compare. If someone with a criminal history has touched this, we'll know."

Gorman looked at the other cop as if he had caught my infectious disease.

"Hey, what can it hurt? Joey's working today, he'll do it." Gorman shook his head but didn't offer any protests. The cop turned back to me. "How 'bout you? You up for it?"

Okay, they may not have been convinced that I was sane, but they were at least willing to check out my story. I put a calming hand on my stomach. "Thank you so much. Can we do that now?"

Gorman rose to his feet. "Yep." He motioned for his partner to follow him out, but before he made any progress I reached out a restraining hand.

"I've got a question."

"Uh-huh."

"Was there ever a point in your life in which you spoke in full sentences?"

"Nope."

"Didn't think so."

When I got back to the apartment, Mr. Katz was still hiding under the coffee table. I tossed my purse on a chair and prepared a bowl of kibble as a means of apology. The trip to the police station had been awful. The only prints on the book were mine. Neither Gorman nor his partner thought anything I said held any credibility, and for a few scary moments I thought I was going to be booked for making a prank call to 911. Were they right? Was I losing my mind? I looked over at the empty space on the top bookshelf.

No, someone had been there. Someone was toying with me.