Catsby: A Novel

Chapter 31

"Dandelion must be home," Tucker said, eyeing the light on in their bedroom window. The front door was unlocked. Tucker paused before stepping inside. "Sorry, Dick, I should have kept the taxi around to take you back to Jersey. If you're going back there, that is. After what Catsby did...."

"I doubt he'll be there. He's probably halfway to Mexico by now."

Cordon rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. He's got money. He'll buy his way out of this."

"Maybe so," I said. "Let's just wait until we hear his side of the story first before passing judgment."

"Always the sensible one, aren't you?" Tucker said. "You're both welcome to stay here. The helicopter destroyed our guest bedroom, but we have a couch. You'd have to share...."

I faced Cordon, who smiled back at me. It was tempting—there seemed to be a slight chance at reconciliation—but, ultimately, I felt compelled to return to Catsby's. If he was there, I had to let him know the clock was ticking.

"Thanks, but I think I'll go for a walk, and then head back to Jersey," I said.

Cordon seemed disappointed, but she planted a goodnight kiss on my cheek. Tucker grunted his goodbye, and they disappeared inside. I walked to the street corner, where a familiar furry figure leapt out at me from behind a stoop.

"It's me," Catsby said.

"Of course it's you. Who else would it be?" I glanced back at the Boobcannons' apartment. "What are you doing out here? Where's the Wienermobile?"

He said nothing.

"That bookseller is dead, you know."

"So it wasn't a horse," Catsby asked.

"It wasn't a horse," I repeated.

"And it wasn't ketchup on the fender, either."

I flinched. "Where'd you park?"

"The Wienermobile? It's in the East River."

"There's a parking garage in the middle of the East River?"

"No, Old Spice," he said. "The Wienermobile is at the bottom of the river."

Cordon wasn't going to be too happy about this turn of events. From what I recalled, she still owed taxes on it after winning it in the Fourth of July hot-dog eating competition.

"How did the accident happen? It was an accident, wasn't it?"

"Of course," he said. "I tried to grab the wheel, but she slapped me away. I don't know what she was thinking."

"You don't mean...oh God. Dandelion was driving?"

"Women drivers," he said, shaking his head. "You know what I'm saying?"

"Women drivers," I said, nodding in agreement. "I know what you're saying."

(Let the record show that I later checked the Internet for the statistics, and women are actually safer drivers compared to men.)

"I'm not going to tell anyone she was driving," Catsby said. "Keep that between us. I'll take the blame."

"You'll be arrested. You won't last a day in prison in that fursuit."

"They'll have to catch me first. I'll fly to some country like Switzerland or Russia. I'll tell them I'm a hacker or something, and that the U.S. government is after me."

"Then what are you doing out here? Get going!"

He stared at the illuminated window down the block. "I'm waiting for Dandelion. She said she'd ask her husband for a divorce. Tell him it's over, that she's taking the kids. She's coming with me."

I laughed. I suppose I shouldn't have done that, but c'mon. Was he serious?

"You head home," he said, ignoring my ejaculation. "I'm waiting here."

"How long?"

His frown had never looked more serious. "As long as it takes."

I wanted to say something more, but there was nothing else to say. I headed toward a main thoroughfare to hail a cab. There was no way Dandelion was going to go anywhere with Catsby. We'd all seen the distant look in her eyes when he tried to explain himself to her. She may have loved him, once upon a time, but that time had long since passed. The past couple of months had been little more than a coda, a movie tacked onto the end of a canceled TV series. They'd had their Serenity. It was all over for them now.