He made a lame, high-pitched squawk as he jerked upward in shock. Lipstick’s eyes were wide, as if equally amazed by her action and the alpaca’s reaction. The cat sprang up with all four legs and tail stiff. She landed noiselessly, then sprinted headlong into a box heap, causing a great hollow clatter of cardboard falling onto cardboard. Tuxedo and Mitchell both looked accusingly at Alfonzo. He gaped like a fish, ear smarting.

“My darling? Are you all right?”

They all waited for an answer, but none came. Lipstick was gone. Clouds moved outside the window, and the room darkened. Mitchell waggled his eyebrows at Alfonzo.

“This might be our cue to leave. I want to thank you, Mr. Stan. I appreciate your talking me through your issue. Our office will do some research, and I assure you that your report will remain anonymous. You’ll be hearing from me.”

14.

“She chomped me!”

The afternoon clouds had melted away, exposing a variegated sky of salmon, orange, and pale yellow. Alfonzo and Mitchell moved in the direction of the subway, but when they got to the entrance they kept walking. Across from them stretched the boardwalk and beyond that the sea. With the slightest hum, they agreed they wouldn’t return to the city just yet.

Mitchell shrugged. “I wish I could say that was unusual, but—”

“But what—your clients bite you regularly?”

“Animals get heated when it comes to their homes. It’s a sensitive topic. I don’t think their fears are unfounded.”

“But biting?” Alfonzo huffed. “I didn’t do anything to her.”

“Everybody bites sometime. Let me buy you a drink to make up for it. I’ll tell you some stuff about those cats when the time is right. But now is about getting you through your crisis. How are you feeling, aside from the ear?” Mitchell asked.

Alfonzo felt giddy. He sighed because he could not bear the weight of the day. They scanned for a bar. As far as they could tell, their choices were the Blue Boar Tavern or the Spouter Inn. The Blue Boar looked like it specialized in locally fermented livers. It had one tiny grim window, a closed green door, and a sign that used to spell COORS but had been abbreviated to a simple neon COO. The Spouter, by contrast, had a wide-open door and the Detroit Cobras playing on the stereo.

Alfonzo and Mitchell settled at the counter. They had a view of the street and the sea. The collie behind the bar wagged her tail while taking their orders. Because it was still the afternoon, the place was loose and uncrowded. The staff prepped and gossiped. Alfonzo relished this escape from the nine-to-five bubble.