“Sounds horrible,” I said.

“Please come help me cheer him up?”

“There’s something else, too,” I said.

Audrey refilled the pipe and hit it. “What?” she said around the smoke.

“I told the detective about him and Danielle fighting. I feel terrible about it.”

“Jesus.”

“That’s bad, right?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Brandon doesn’t know it was me, probably. I thought he’d already told them.”

She thought for a minute. “Well, it happened. Their fight, I mean. You didn’t lie.”

“No.”

“And you didn’t mean to. You worry too much. Maybe we can take him to the movies. He loves movies.”

“You really want me to go with you, huh?”

“Is it obvious?” She reached over and took hold of my hair, pulling me towards her. The kiss left me empty-headed and gasping.

“You’re very persuasive,” I said.

“Good. Let’s go.”

In the car I said, “Has that detective been talking to you, too? Ash?”

“He asked me a bunch of questions. Pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, totally. What’d you tell him?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what happened. He finally let me go.”

“I hope he catches the guy,” I said.

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something? Do you think he’s kind of hot?”

She looked at me like I was nuts. “He’s a cop,” she said.

“I know, but still.”

“I can’t believe you like him,” she said.

“I don’t like him. I think he’s attractive, that’s all.”

“You have weird taste.”

“All right, forget I said anything.”

“I wonder if he’s, like, into handcuffs and stuff like that. Like role-playing, uniforms.”

“I don’t get the whole uniform fetish,” I said. “To me people always look uncomfortable in them.”

“Once I had to dress up like a prison warden for a shoot,” Audrey said. “It was so silly. I wore this khaki outfit with a badge on it, and platform heels.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing that.”

“Well, you can, it’s on the fucking Internet. I carried this nightstick, too. But it was actually a dildo.”

We dissolved into giggles.

She said, “I hope Brandon will be okay. He told me he’s been calling in sick to work.”

“Maybe that’s good,” I said. “He could probably use a break. To grieve, you know?”

“Yeah, no shit he could use a break. Have you seen the public-access channel?”

“No, I don’t have cable.”

“It’s weird, it has these shows like ‘My Skin Is on Fire: Living with Psoriasis.’ I have it.”

“You have psoriasis?”

“Ha ha,” she said.

“What is psoriasis, anyway?” I asked.

“I think it’s where your skin is on fire. If you had cable you would know this.”

I smiled.

At Brandon’s house we rang the bell. His car was in the drive, but he didn’t answer the door.

“He’s probably asleep,” she said. “I know how to get in.”

We went around to a screened porch in the back, cluttered with plastic furniture. A pot of dirt sat on a wicker table by the kitchen door. Audrey lifted it and retrieved a spare key, unlocked the door, and pushed it open to the kitchen. The air inside was stuffy and smelled like rotting garbage. I followed behind her, listening, trying to sense anyone in the house.