It was not a matter of Jasper being anything close to a perfect breeding match for Miyan.  Had he been a Siamese rather than a grey tabby, she would have all but been required by law to throw herself at him, as such perfect matches were rare and highly encouraged by society.  But her feline DNA was a lot less discriminating than social conventions.  It saw any male feline as a potential mating prospect. 

     Normally Miyan actively resisted such impulses.  It was wealth, power and social position that she liked to be turned on by, rather than breed or virility.  But she rarely had occasion to spend so much time in close proximity to a male feline of such physical prowess. 

     Everything about Jasper, from his scent to the motion of his tail as he walked, urged Miyan towards a state of yiffiness.  And she wondered if he would oblige her, should she develop a need for which only he could provide relief. 

     Best not to temp such a situation, she thought.  Jasper was too unconventional, and probably one of those rare males who would leave a female to suffer in her need if she insisted on doing what she had been warned not to. 

     Hoping to distract herself from yiffy thoughts, Miyan tried to make casual conversation while they walked through the store. 

     “So, what did you think of Christine?" asked Miyan.  “Do you think she’s for real?"

     “Oh, she’s for real alright,” said Jasper, in a serious tone. 

     “So you believe in the miracle now?" asked Miyan. 

     “I guess that depends on how you define miracles,” said Jasper, philosophically.  “Most people would say her very presence on our planet is a miracle."

     “But you wouldn’t?" asked Miyan, curiously. 

     “I don’t think Christine is miraculous,” said Jasper.  “Highly improbable, but not miraculous."

     “Does she make you feel as uneasy as she does me?" asked Miyan, in a troubled tone.

     “Could be,” said Jasper.  “But probably not for the same reasons.  You do realize she can look right through us, don’t you?"

     “How do you mean?" asked Miyan. 

     “Say I told you a lie,” said Jasper.  “You’d scent my increased anxiousness and know not to trust what I said.  But, if I told Christine a lie, she could open my soul like a book and read the truth in it."

     “Kind of intimidating, isn’t it?" said Miyan, uneasily.  “I mean, she’s a nice person and all that.  She has a fascinating history, and she can potentially do a lot of good for our town.  But somehow I just can’t feel comfortable around her."

     “Really?" Jasper queried.  “Why should that be?  I mean, her powers are impressive, but she’s also quite an innocent.  I can’t conceive of her meaning harm to anyone.  So the only reason to feel uneasy around her is if you have something to hide.  Do you have something to hide, Miyan?"

     “Why do I get the feeling you’re not convinced of my innocence?" asked Miyan, warily. 

     “I’m not,” said Jasper, appraisingly.  “Why should I be?  After all, you’re not like Christine, Vicki or Kacey.  You don’t radiate innocence.  You make no secret of the fact that you’re a worldly and self-oriented feline.  Plus, you’re originally from Webberton, and it shows.  You’re the kind of person who’s better assumed guilty until proven innocent."

     “Gee, thanks,” said Miyan, seeming not at all flattered.  “It’s so nice to know you’re in my corner.  Maybe that’s what Christine senses about you.  Maybe Perry didn’t send you to be my bodyguard at all.  Maybe you’re just here to find out what I’m guilty of and pin me to the wall for it."

     “I’m not saying that’s true,” said Jasper.  “But if you’re not guilty of anything, you shouldn’t need to worry about that.  On the other hand, if you are guilty of something, I most likely will find out about it."

     “And what will you do then?" asked Miyan.  “Will you turn me in, or will you protect me?"

     “That depends on what you did and who you did it to,” said Jasper.  “If I should find out you tried to kill Vicki, I won’t let you get another chance at her.  Is that what you’re guilty of?"

     “Of course not,” said Miyan.  “I would never hurt Vicki.  I had nothing to do with the fire.  I’m not guilty of anything, except trying to protect my former boss."

     “Are you really the type of person who would step outside the law just to protect a friend?" asked Jasper. 

     “Would that surprise you?" asked Miyan. 

     “You do have a certain reputation for being cold hearted,” said Jasper, curiously.  “But somehow you don’t strike me as being quite the impersonal business person you make yourself out to be.  Tell me, why did you leave Webberton to come here and be Perry’s secretary?  A female feline of your caliber could have acquired much more power in Webberton.  What was the attraction?"

     “You live in Webberton,” said Miyan.  “Do you enjoy being that type of feline?  Does any amount of power that society offers you make the quality of life there bearable?"

     “I don’t know what you mean,” said Jasper, obliviously.  “My quality of life there is pretty good."

     “The carnivorous diet agrees with you?" she asked. 

     “Certainly not,” said Jasper.  “Can you see a health nut like me eating meat?"

     “No, I can’t,” said Miyan, intuitively.  “I can’t see you living in Webberton, at all.  You’re too nice a guy to buy into that master race nonsense."

     “So you didn’t buy it, and that’s why you left,” Jasper conjectured.  “You couldn’t deal with the diet and the slavery, because you cared."

     “That wasn’t it at all,” said Miyan, unconvincingly.  “I left because it offends me to be over glorified as a feline.  I wanted to live in Suburbia, because here I can be respected as a human being."

     “Aah,” said Jasper, in a tone of revelation.  “So it isn’t heart with you.  It’s human pride."

     “Look,” said Miyan, with uncertain defensiveness.  “I do have a heart.  I’m capable of loving and caring.  But it’s only a little heart.  Mostly I’m selfish, greedy and ruthless.  So anything I choose to do will benefit me in some way, even if it is also of great benefit to others."

     “I see,” said Jasper, suspiciously.  “So if it would benefit you to have Vicki out of the way .  .  ."

     “There is no way harming Vicki could benefit me,” Miyan insisted, seeming somewhat distressed by Jasper’s unwillingness to be convinced that she was not a threat to his childhood friend. 

     “What about the insurance?" asked Jasper. 

     “Those papers are faked,” said Miyan.  “There is no company insurance on Vicki."

     “But if there was such insurance,” asked Jasper.  “Would you be beyond killing Vicki to collect?  Are you the type of person who would let someone’s life stand between you and a lot of money?"

     “Just between you and me,” said Miyan.  “And if you repeat this to anyone I’ll deny it.  What I have more than a heart is a conscience."

     “Conscience?" asked Jasper, teasingly.  “Isn’t that a liability in a business person of your status?"

     “It can be,” Miyan admitted.  “That’s why I try to keep it a secret.  But I suspect that’s why Perry chose me to be his successor."

     “And that’s the real reason why you left Webberton, isn’t it?" asked Jasper. 

     “Perhaps,” said Miyan.  “But, anyway, the real reason why I couldn’t hurt someone like Vicki, no matter how much profit there was in it for me, is because the guilt I’d suffer would diminish my quality of life.  I can only hurt people if I think they really deserve it.  But if you ever do anything to make me think you deserve it, you’d better not turn your back on me."

     “I’ll remember that,” said Jasper, patronizingly. 

     “And I shouldn’t turn my back on you, either,” said Miyan. 

     “Really?" asked Jasper.  “Why do you say that?"

     “I saw the way Christine looked at you,” said Miyan, knowingly.  “And I saw the way you looked back at her.  You have secrets and she senses them.  Tell me, Jasper.  Will you kill me if I get too close to your secrets?  Are you the one I need protection from?"

     “I mean you no harm, Miyan,” said Jasper, in a tone of honesty.  “But you would do well to not get too closely involved with me."

     “You know what I think,” said Miyan.  “I think you’re a double agent.  I think The Queen Of Webberton has you on her payroll."

     “Oh, I see,” said Jasper, seeming amused.  “And what is it The Queen wants me to do?"

     “The same thing I want to do,” said Miyan.  “Stop Perry’s marriage to Lappina.  Of course, I have no intension of letting Jennaballina have him, either."

     “You want him for yourself?" asked Jasper. 

     “He would make the perfect husband for me,” Miyan admitted.  “But what I really want is to see him happy, as well as to see Suburbia’s future secure.  It’s in my best interest, as well as his, for him to marry someone more appropriate.  How do you feel about it?"

     “If I had my way Perry would never get married,” said Jasper.  “He’s my best friend and closest confidant.  The last thing I want is for him to have a female tied to his side for the rest of his life."

     “Jasper,” said Miyan, suspiciously. “One would almost think you want him for yourself.  But that isn’t possible.  Not unless you’re secretly a female."

     “Please,” said Jasper, distastefully.  “There’s no need to insult me."

     “You don’t like the feminine gender at all, do you?" asked Miyan, seeming troubled. 

     “What’s to like?" asked Jasper.  “Look at yourself.  You’re everything I disapprove of.  You’re selfish, possessive, dominating, maleizing.  Your only interest in males is what you can take from them."

     “That’s nature,” said Miyan, defensively.  “Males give, females take.  For most people it’s an ideal arrangement.  But you don’t want to give, do you?  You want a mate you can take from."

     “I don’t want a mate, period,” said Jasper.  “I’m a self contained being.  I don’t need to share what I am with someone else."

     “Everyone needs to share with somebody,” said Miyan, knowingly.  “And Perry’s the only person in the world you share your secrets with, isn’t he?"

     “Don’t strain your brain, Miyan,” said Jasper.  “Whatever sordid type of relationship you’re imagining between me and Perry, it’s nowhere close to the truth.  The truth is far beyond your experience or imagination."

     “But not beyond Christine’s,” said Miyan, suggestively.  “Maybe I should ask her what you are.  Maybe she could tell me what kind of person reserves all his affection for someone of the same gender."

     “Do us both a favor, Miyan,” said Jasper.  “Stop conjecturing about things you have no way of understanding.  The only way you could ever understand would be if I took you into my confidence the way I do Perry.  And I will never share that kind of confidence with a female."

     “Females just can’t be trusted, can they?" said Miyan, sarcastically. 

     “You only have to look at Perry’s situation to see the answer to that,” said Jasper.  “He enjoys complete trust in me.  He knows I would never betray him.  Can he say the same about you?"

     “Of course he can’t,” said Miyan, sadly.  “I’ve warned him many times not to.  I’m not the kind of person who lets friendship get in the way of personal gain."

     “So you just came right out and told him that, huh?" asked Jasper, with a knowing smile. 

     “Well, he has been good to me,” said Miyan.  “It’s only fair to warn him."

     “You know what I think,” said Jasper.  “I think you play a really good game of horse hockey.  Trouble is, you play by yourself too much.  You end up convincing yourself of the things you want others to believe.  Things like, you’re the perfect model of a ruthless business person."

     “Are you saying I’m not?" asked Miyan, struggling to seem indignant, but not being very successful. 

     “I’ve known some really ruthless people in my time,” said Jasper.  “When a ruthless female intends to take advantage of a male, she doesn’t warn him.  She doesn’t leave him any kind of advantage."

     “It was never necessary for me to deceive Perry in any way,” said Miyan, in a troubled voice.  “He’s the type that likes being taken advantage of.  So, when he found out I was after his business, he just signed it over to me.  He thought, if I wanted it that bad I ought to have it.  And it’s hard not to be grateful to someone who thinks you’re worthy of such a gift, especially when he knows that my original intent was to steal everything he worked his whole life to build.

     “What can you do with someone who's so kindly towards thieves like me and murderers like Lappina?  He seems to have a real liking for sordid company.  Yet, he’s such a nice guy, and that niceness tends to rub off on you, whether you want it to or not.”

     “I know what you mean,” said Jasper. “I haven’t always been exactly a ball of sunshine myself.  When we first met as kids I hated him.  He was everything I was not, and vice versa.  I was as mean to him as I thought I could get away with, but that only seemed to attract him to me.  If not for his influence, I probably would have moved to Noir and become a gangster.  Or maybe I’d have moved to Arkenstone and become a bad guy.  But he determined right away that he saw good in me, and he wouldn’t let up until I saw it in myself.”

     “Instead you moved to Webberton where you support a totalitarian regime,” said Miyan. “I wouldn’t exactly call that an improvement on your destiny.”

     “I never said I supported the regime or the constitution of Webberton," said Jasper, reflectively.  "I despise them.  And I would change things there if I could.  Perhaps that’s the lesson I learned from Perry.  You don’t change things by keeping your distance from them.”

     “Oh, I see,” said Miyan. “So you hope to change the ideals of Webberton by being a paragon of virtue in their midst?”

     “Well, it sure does work for Perry, doesn’t it?" said Jasper.  "Just look at you.  You came here from Webberton intent on stealing him blind, but his influence zapped all that right out of you.  He made you so honest that you scare yourself.

     “Maybe if he’d made you scratch and claw your way to the top you could feel better about screwing him over.  But, as things are, you could no more betray him than I could.  I just wonder why you're so ashamed to admit it?  Why do you work so hard to hide that you've changed?"

     “I don’t want to be seen as soft,” Miyan admitted.  “Business people with tender hearts never get very far.  All this that’s happening to me now is because I allowed myself a moment of weakness.  I shouldn’t have closed the office down.  I should have been in there everyday.  If I had I’d be on top of this insurance thing.  But I let my compassion for those girls incapacitate me.  Stupid thing to do, really.  They weren’t even my friends.  Now someone has the upper hand, and I’m going to lose everything Perry gave me.  I may even lose my life over this."

     “I don’t think a little tenderness will hurt you as much as your insecurity over it will,” said Jasper.  “You’re being positively defeatist right now.  That’s no way for a business person to think."

     Jasper took three large cans of fruit off a shelf and began juggling them casually, as if he could do such things without thought or effort. 

     “You trying to cheer me up or something?" asked Miyan. 

     “Nope,” said Jasper.  “I’m trying to show you that gaining the upper hand is as simple as 1, 2, 3." And with each number he casually tossed one of the cans over the shelf that he had his back to. 

     Half an instant later the sound of the cans impacting in the next isle was accompanied by a female voice uttering some very colorful expletives - the kind that were rarely heard in Suburbia. 

     Jasper chuckled mischievously.  Then he hurriedly ran down to the end of the isle and up the next with Miyan following some distance behind, as she could not match his speed. 

     In the next isle they discovered a rat girl in official looking clothing with her arm in a sling.  She was sitting on the floor rubbing her head, as if to check for injuries. 

     The cans had apparently fallen on her, knocking her off her feet and leaving her slightly dazed.  While having the use of only one arm was making it difficult for her to right herself. 

     The rat girl flailed anxiously for a moment as she saw Jasper and Miyan approaching, but then she became still as she realized escape was impossible. 

     “Well, well,” said Jasper, as he looked down on the rat girl.  “I thought I smelled a rat."

     “Ha, ha, ha,” said the rat girl, unhumorously.  “Very funny.  What’s the big idea of throwing cans at me?"

     “Just a friendly warning,” said Jasper.  “Bad things happen to rats who stick their big noses into my business."

     “I got no business with you,” said the rat girl, pointing at Miyan.  “My business is with her."

     “Any business you have with Miyan is my business,” said Jasper, in a warning tone.  “Now, why are you following her?"

     “It’s my job, okay?” said the rat girl, indignantly, as she pulled a business card out of her jacket and held it up to Jasper. 

     Jasper took the card and read it. 

     “Hmmm, Judy “Ratzo” DiCaro, private investigator,” Jasper read off the card.  “Sounds familiar.  Say, aren’t you that silly detective from Noir who’s always after Saint Saffron?"

     “She a friend of yours?" asked Ratzo, disapprovingly. 

     “Can’t say I’ve ever met her,” said Jasper, with a slight chuckle.  “But your failed attempts to catch her are often more amusing than the funny pages.  Care for a hand up?"

     Jasper offered his hand, and Ratzo reluctantly accepted his assistance.  Then he pulled her to her feet with a very slight effort. 

     “So,” said Miyan, as she looked down at Ratzo, who even when standing had to look up to talk to the two tall felines.  “You’re the detective who’s trying to frame me."

     “I don’t do frames,” said Ratzo, defensively.  “I’m a legitimate detective.  You committed a crime, and I’m going to nail you for it."

     “I did not commit a crime,” Miyan insisted.  “I’m being framed by that rabbit."

     “If I were you I’d be a lot nicer to that bunny girl,” said Ratzo.  “If it wasn’t for her I could have had you arrested already.  Her and that blue fox.  They’re both covering for you for some reason.  My guess is you got them both scared stiff.  Maybe you got an organization.  Maybe all you got to do is make a phone call to have somebody rubbed out."

     “If you wake up alive tomorrow you’ll know that’s not true,” said Miyan.  “And if you really suspected it was true, would you be fool enough to talk to me like this?"

     “I think she would,” said Jasper.  “As Noirnian detectives go, she’s a notorious bumbler."

     “That ain’t so,” Ratzo protested, angrily.  “It’s that costumed clown always making a fool of me."

     “Yes, by capturing the real culprits instead of the innocent persons you were trying to get convicted," said Miyan.  "Maybe if you took the time to make sure you had the right suspect in your sites, Saint Saffron would lose interest in you.”

     “My job is to find evidence and act on it,” said the detective.  “I do that very well.  Sometimes I know I’m after an innocent, but I can’t find the evidence to prove it.  That’s not supposed to matter in Noir.  Our constitution says Justice is blind, and evidence is everything.  So, if the evidence says you're guilty, I’m not supposed to care whether you really committed the act or not.  It’s evidence that makes people guilty, not their actions.  And if it wasn’t for Saint Saffron always breaking the law to get evidence I don’t have access to, everyone would know what a good detective I am.”

     “Good at convicting innocent people, you mean,” said Miyan, reprovingly.

     “Not this time,” said Ratzo. “There’s not even a doubt in my mind that you’re guilty.  You had motive and opportunity, plus we have a witness who saw you at the scene.  Maybe even two witnesses if the bunny can ever get her head on straight.  Unless you’ve got one dusey of an alibi, you’re going down for this one.”

     “I was enjoying a peaceful night at home as I usually do, alone,” said Miyan, with a nervous sigh.  “I wonder if even Saint Saffron could get me out of this one.”

     “Thankfully, I don’t have to worry about that this time,” said Ratzo.  “Saint Saffron is a hundred miles away in Noir, being a nuisance to some other detective.  And, if I’m lucky, I’ll return home to see her blood soaked costume hanging in The Museum Of Crime at The Hall Of Justice.”

     “That’s kind of harsh, isn’t it?” said Jasper.  “I’m mean, you do owe her your life several times over, don’t you?  And she does see that most of your cases actually get solved first time around.  You probably wouldn’t have much of a reputation outside of Noir if not for that.”

     “Yeah,” said Miyan.  “I’ll bet G. G. & F. were hoping she’d follow you here.  Hey, maybe they think you are Saint Saffron."

     Jasper laughed heartily and said, “That I’d have to see - a rat transforming into a leopardess.  A super heroine on stilts."

     “She is not a heroine,” Ratzo snapped.  “She’s a vigilante.  And according to The Noirnian Constitution, that makes her part of the criminal element.  I’m the one on the side of law and justice."

     “Yeah, right,” Jasper laughed, disrespectfully.  “Noirnian justice.  What a joke."

     “Laugh it up, funny boy,” said Ratzo, angrily.  “We’ll see how amused you are when I send your friend here to the lethal injection chamber."

     Seeing that Miyan was seriously distressed by this comment, Jasper abruptly lost his sense of humor. 

     With an effortless swipe of his mighty hand, Jasper caught Ratzo by the throat, lifted her off her feet and slammed her violently into the nearest row of shelves. 

     She half coughed and half cried out at the instant of impact.  But beyond that she could make only choking sounds as Jasper held her pinned at his eye level, exerting so much force that Ratzo felt sure his intent was to crush the life out of her. 

     She flailed helplessly with her legs and one good arm while she choked, unable to find any footing or grasp anything with which to defend herself.  Then she resigned herself and stared horror stricken into Jaspers eyes as she waited for him to finish her. 

     “Now you understand me,” said Jasper, threateningly, as the rat girl trembled in fear of the deadly feline, her eyes bulging as she struggled to breathe.  “You’re not in Noir anymore.  We have higher standards of justice here.  Don’t let me catch you thinking evidence is more important than innocence.  If you send any innocent person to the lethal injection chamber on my watch, you won’t leave Suburbia alive.  And it’d be a real shame if Saint Saffron had to find herself a new playmate.  Have I made myself clear?"

     Ratzo nodded her head with difficulty, having very little freedom of motion the way she was pinned - muffled whines of pain and terror being the only sounds she could produce. 

     With that, Jasper released his grip, and the rat girl abruptly fell to the floor like a crumpled rag doll.  Then she cried out her pain in broken, strangled sobs as she gulped in air, fearfully gazing up at the two towering felines, unable to hide the hereditary terror Jasper had evoked from her rat DNA. 

     Miyan felt pity for Ratzo in spite of herself.  And she would have moved to help the rat girl, but Jasper would have none of that. 

     “Come on, Miyan,” said Jasper, with indifference.  “Let’s finish our shopping."

     “Are we just going to leave her like that?" Miyan protested.  “She looks so helpless."

     “Miyan, she’s Noirnian,” said Jasper.  “No one who lives in Noir is helpless.  It doesn’t matter which side she’s on or if she plays both sides against the middle.  You just don’t survive in Noir unless you learn to be a killer.  And you’re the one she’s looking to kill.  So don’t be sparing her any sympathy.  Come on, let’s go."

     Miyan paused to pick up the cans of fruit Jasper had thrown, knowing they were obligated to pay for them.  Then she reluctantly followed Jasper as he walked back to the next isle where they had left their cart. 

     Ratzo laid where Jasper had dropped her, still breathing heavily, as much from anxiety as from strangulation.  And she listened intently as Jasper and Miyan’s voices gradually faded into the distance and disappeared. 

     “Was it really necessary to hurt her like that?" Miyan was saying. 

     “I’m sure she got the message,” said Jasper, coldly. 

     “And I was thinking you were a fan of hers,” said Miyan, in a bemused tone. 

     “I’m not a fan of any female,” said Jasper. 

     “Not even Saint Saffron,” asked Miyan, whimsically. 

     “At least Saint Saffron knows the difference between truth and evidence,” said Jasper.  “If not for people like her there wouldn’t be any kind of justice in Noir.  But, no, I wouldn’t say I was her fan.  I just support her cause."

     After that their voices moved beyond Ratzo’s range of hearing, and she breathed a sigh of relief.  She was glad Jasper and Miyan had left so quickly.  She didn’t like being seen in this state. 

     Miyan had been right.  Ratzo was indeed helpless.  Without her gun arm she had no way of evening her odds with larger adversaries.  Plus she was in a strange town without friends to call on for backup.  This was not turning out to be the piece of cake case she had expected. 

     Ratzo began looking around to see what she needed to do for herself.  Realizing that the first thing she needed to do was stand up, Ratzo painfully rolled over and used the shelf behind her to pull herself up with. 

     This was difficult, as she only had her one good arm to work with, and her whole upper body ached from Jasper's attack.  Plus her head was still spinning from oxygen deprivation. 

     She then leaned against the empty shopping cart she'd been pushing and remembered that she was low on snacks back at her motel room - snacking being one of the things she did to ease her tension, which accounted for her hefty figure. 

     Ratzo then hurriedly did some shopping of her own, taking special care not to run into Jasper and Miyan again.  Then she checked out and returned to her car. 

     Driving back to her motel room was difficult, as she had still not accustomed herself to one handed driving.  And all the way there she lamented her foolishness in giving Perry an excuse to break her arm.  Now it was all she could do just getting around.  She was constantly in pain and succumbing to a fear of death that she had long been able to suppress in Noir. 

     It wasn’t so much death that she feared, but dying in Suburbia, the most peace loving town on the planet, would be her ultimate humiliation. 

     After arriving at the motel parking lot, Ratzo had considerable difficulty carrying her bag of groceries up the stairs to her room.  Then she set the bag down while she cautiously opened the door and inspected the room for any unpleasant surprises. 

     Finding all was well inside the room, she retrieved her bag and spilled its contents out on the bed.  Then she set about trying to relax, hoping to relieve herself of the fear Jasper had instilled in her. 

     Why had nobody ever told her Suburbia was a popular hang out for the toughest cats from Webberton, she wondered. 

     She tried watching TV and stuffing herself with snacks for a while, but this did nothing to relieve her tension.  She just couldn’t get it out of her head that she had never really been that close to death before. 

     Even though Jasper hadn’t meant to kill her, he could easily have miscalculated and done her in accidentally.  And if ever he did mean to kill her, she now knew the unrestrained force of that powerful hand could flatten her with one blow. 

     As much as she hated to admit it, it bothered her even further that Saint Saffron had not shown up, as always seemed to happen whenever Ratzo got in over her head.  She hated the yellow costumed vigilante who was always interfering in her cases, presumably just for the pleasure of proving Ratzo had been after an innocent suspect, and thus making a mockery of Noirnian justice.  Still, she could not deny that Saint Saffron’s interference was starting to become something she relied upon to keep herself alive.  But it was now quite obvious that Saint Saffron had not, as Miyan had suggested, followed her to Suburbia.  Thus she could expect no miracle rescues from tight situations.

     This only served to reinforce the idea that she was in a strange town, on an unexpectedly dangerous case, without anything to fall back on for a sense of stabilizing normality.  She was out of her element, and her prospects for survival seemed dauntingly speculative.  Even if she completed her assignment and got Miyan convicted, she would still have Jasper to escape.  It was beginning to look like a no win situation for her. 

     Finally Ratzo turned off the TV and began wrestling with the idea of calling G. G. & F. to officially sign herself off the case.  But this only added to her anxiety, as it would mean the death of her reputation as a detective. 

     Several times she picked up the phone and started to dial the number of her local G. G. & F. contact.  But each time she was unable to dial the last digit. 

     Eventually, she picked up the phone and dialed a long distance number with a Noirnian area code. 

     “Hello,” said a sleepy female voice on the other end.  And Ratzo figured she must have already settled in for the night. 

     “Hi Leela,” said Ratzo, in a subdued and much more feminine voice.  “It’s Judy.  Sorry if I woke you."

     “Hey, Judy,” said Leela, enthusiastically.  “No, that’s alright.  I hadn’t gone to sleep yet.  How’s the case in Suburbia going?"

     “Not too good,” said Ratzo, in a defeated tone.  “I got my arm broken soon after I arrived."

     “Aww, that’s a shame,” said Leela, sympathetically.  “Was it your gun arm?"

     “Yeah,” said Ratzo.  “And I’m not good for much without it."

     “Well, how tough can things be in Suburbia?" said Leela, encouragingly.  “Maybe sleuthing will be enough for this case."

     “I don’t know, Leela,” said Ratzo, fretfully.  “Suburbia isn’t exactly living down to its reputation.  Everywhere I go I run into aggressive cats.  You should see the claw pulls in my jacket.  And tonight one of them half crushed me to death.  I swear, he’s a giant.  And he’s guarding the subject of my investigation.  I might as well have taken a case in Webberton."

     “In Webberton you’d have been on the menu by now,” said Leela, with slight amusement. 

     “I know,” said Ratzo.  “Suburbia shouldn’t be a problem for me.  But this case is a lot bigger than I was led to believe.  There are people from both Noir and Webberton involved.  It’s not just a simple insurance fraud case.  And I have a feeling that I won’t be coming home from this one."

     “Hey, what did we learn in detective school about that kind of thinking?" said Leela, admonishingly.  “If the case is too much for you, hang it up now.  But if you’re going to go on with it, you have to be confident."

     “It’s hard to be confident when I’m all alone in a strange town,” said Ratzo.  “There’s no one here to back me up."

     “You want me to send the boys to help you?" asked Leela. 

     “No, please,” said Ratzo, insistently.  “That’s all I need, to be seen hiding behind a bunch of guys.  Honestly, I don’t know how you do it, Leela.  You’re way more qualified than any of those .  .  .  male detectives you work for.  I wish we could have gone into business together like we planned to in school."

     “You flatter me too much,” said Leela, modestly.  “I’m not half the detective you are.  Besides, I’ve never been good at living my whole life for crime fighting.  You deserve a partner who’s more .  .  .  dedicated.  Being the secretary of the AD Detective Agency is enough excitement for me."

     “You just want to lay that big wolf, don’t you,” said Ratzo.  “Any luck yet?"

     “I'm not even sure if he realizes I'm female,” Leela sighed with resignation.  “My boss only has eyes for clients.  I’m just part of the office furniture."

     “I’d have killed him by now,” said Ratzo.  “Males are such dopes."

     “Yeah, well, he’s my dope,” said Leela, with a slight chuckle.  “And I’m happy just to look after him.  I wish you were as happy with your job."

     “Leela,” said Ratzo, in a disturbed tone.  “I realized something tonight.  I don’t want to die.  I especially don’t want to be killed while I’m helpless.  Leela, please tell me to quit."

     “I’ll do no such thing,” said Leela.  “If you quit now you’ll be ruined as a detective in your own eyes.  I can’t encourage you to give up.  Remember what they taught us in school.  We can’t let our little set backs get us down.  If you lose your right arm you learn to shoot with your left.  And if you need backup, don’t be ashamed to ask for it."

     “I don’t suppose you have any friends in Suburbia who could help me,” said Ratzo. 

     “If you need help in Suburbia you should go see Perry Rhoades,” said Leela. 

     “Oh, give me a break,” said Ratzo.  “Who do you think broke my arm?"

     “Perry broke your arm?" asked Leela in disbelief.  “But he’s such a nice guy.  Why would he do that?"

     “Leela, did I miss the course where they taught us that nice guys can be dangerous?" asked Ratzo.  “I thought people in Suburbia would be scared of me.  I pointed a gun right in his face.  He didn’t even blink.  He just reached out and crushed my arm, like I was nothing.  If the nice guys in Suburbia are like that, what must the bad guys be like?"

     “Why would you point a gun at Perry?" asked Leela. 

     “Just trying to teach him a lesson,” said Ratzo, regretfully. 

     “Judy, you don’t make friends by intimidating them,” said Leela.  “At least not in Suburbia.  You’re not in Noir anymore.  You have to do things differently there, even if it means swallowing your pride.  Trust me, you’ll never get anywhere in Suburbia without having Perry in your corner.  The best thing to do would be apologize to him and ask for his help."

     “But that would be so humiliating,” said Ratzo.  “I’ve never apologized to a male in my life."

     “What’s worse, humiliation or death by cat claws?" said Leela.  “Think of it as a survival tactic.  Fake it if you have to.  Otherwise you’ll be all alone and over your head."

     “You know this Rhoades guy really well?" asked Ratzo. 

     “We’ve done business,” said Leela.  “He’s made a number of really useful gadgets for the agency."

     “You know, there’s a possibility he may be involved in the crime,” said Ratzo. 

     “The odds against that are astronomical,” said Leela.  “But if you should find out that he’s involved, get your tail out of that town pronto.  It’d be suicide to go up against the prince of a town alone."

     “But you advise me to trust him?" asked Ratzo, with uncertainty. 

     “He’s done right by me in the past,” said Leela.  “I’m sure he’ll look out for you, especially if he knows you’re my friend.  Do you want me to call him?"

     “No,” said Ratzo.  “Thanks, but I have to handle this my own way.  Begging for forgiveness from a male will be hard enough without knowing my friend begged first.  But, just in case he does forgive me, what can he do for me?"

     “What can’t he do for you?" said Leela.  “He’s the prince of the town.  He can place Suburbia’s entire police force at your disposal if you need it.  Also, I hear he’s got a cousin who can heal broken bones.  Maybe he’ll introduce you to her."

     “She’s one of the victims,” said Ratzo, thoughtfully.  “I need to get an interview with her anyway.  Say, this might work out well for me."

     “Well, at least you’re starting to sound more like yourself,” said Leela, hopefully.  “You had me worried there for a minute."

     “I’ll give it one more try,” said Ratzo, with forced optimism.  “I’m a real detective, after all.  I have to tough these things out."

     “That’s the spirit,” said Leela, encouragingly.  “But if your situation really does get to be more than you can handle, you call me and let me send my bosses to help you.  After all, being bailed out by three guys can’t be any worse than being bailed out by Saint Saffron, can it?"

     “Leela, someone suggested tonight that the only reason I got hired for this case was because someone thought Saint Saffron would follow me here,” said Ratzo.  “Am I really being type cast all over the world as Saint Saffron’s pet detective?  Doesn’t anybody think I have any skills of my own?"

     “Well, you know how the papers are,” said Leela.  “They just love to poke fun at us law and order types.  But I highly doubt Saint Saffron will follow you outside of Noir.  As far as I’ve heard she couldn’t care less what happens in Suburbia.  So this will be your big chance to prove to the world how good you are on your own."

     “You’re right,” said Ratzo.  “I’ve just got to see this case through, no matter how dangerous it gets."

     “Just a bit of friendly advice,” said Leela.  “Justice has a somewhat different definition in Suburbia.  And when in Suburbia, do as the Suburbians do.  Don’t play this one too close to The Noirnian Constitution."

     “Meaning make sure I nail the real culprit,” said Ratzo.  “Rather than concentrating on the one the evidence points to."

     “That’s right,” said Leela.  “In Suburbia you’re expected to be a detective in the sense of the ancient texts - not the over glorified police people we are in Noir.  Besides, it won’t be much credit to your reputation if it comes out later that you nailed the wrong person."

     “I’ll try to remember that,” said Ratzo.  “But you know how I am.  I’m so used to doing things the way we were taught."

     “You’ll do alright,” said Leela, affectionately.  “I have faith in you."

     “Thanks, Leela,” said Ratzo, appreciatively.  “I always feel better after I talk to you."

     “Take care of yourself, okay?” said Leela.  “And don’t forget .  .  ."

     “I know, I know,” said Ratzo.  “If I go and get myself killed you’ll never speak to me again."

     “Bye now,” said Leela, sleepily. 

     “Goodnight, Leela,” said Ratzo. 

     After hanging up the phone, Ratzo got up and cleaned the trash off of her bed.  Then she began stripping off her detective’s clothing, as well as the survival gear she wore beneath it, including her now useless shoulder holster. 

     She wondered why she continued to wear it, since there was no practical way to reach it with her left hand.  It was anything but comfortable to wear, but somehow she just couldn’t face the world without it - even now that it no longer provided her any protection. 

     Her lengthy jacket was also a burden for her, as it was lined with a heavy bullet proof material.  But she noted that it provided no protection at all from cats at close range. 

     As she removed her shirt and pants, she watched as a flurry of loose fur was released into the air and settled on the floor in a ring at her feet.  This was an occupational hazard for any Cygnesian who was required to wear tight or heavy clothing most of the time.  Fur that could not breathe or soak up sunlight would be weakened and tend to fall out.  Ratzo’s poor diet didn’t help the health of her fur, either.

     This was a common problem for all Noirnians on both sides of the fence.  And there was a saying that the Noirnian lifestyle was murder on the fur.

     Now standing in her bare fur, Ratzo stepped before the mirror and observed herself with great dissatisfaction.  Her fur was patchy and thinning over most of her body, and her belly seemed unnaturally extended in comparison to the rest of her.  She could not have been more unattractive or unhealthy looking if she worked at it. 

     As was her habit, she consoled herself by thinking that it was not a detective’s job to be beautiful, and that she was better off without any kind of love life.  Going to bed lonely helped harden her spirit and prevent her from feeling sympathy for her victims. 

     Surely Miyan Rutherford would be no match for her.  Miyan was too soft - too beautiful, loved and pampered.  If she had been smart she wouldn’t have displayed so much obvious sympathy for a detective who was after her life.  Even Jasper had his weaknesses.  Otherwise Ratzo would now be dead. 

     As she stared at her unattractive reflection, Ratzo channeled her anguish at her own ugliness into anger and contempt for Miyan and Jasper, as well as all cats, save for Leela, who was the only person who had ever really been kind to her. 

     Then she thought of Perry.  She hated him, too.  All this was his fault for not knowing his place.  How dare he not be afraid of her gun?  How dare he take so much pleasure in injuring a superior female?  Someday she would have to teach him a lesson.  But tomorrow she would have to put on an act for him.  She needed him to get Christine to work a miracle on her broken arm.  And she had an idea of just how to work her deception. 

     These Suburbians were unusually susceptible to sentimentality.  If they thought of her as pitiful, she could manipulate them.  Especially the males.  Well, maybe not Jasper.  He was from Webberton.  She needed force to deal with someone like him.  But she swore she would get revenge on him for hurting her that way. 

     With her anger at a boil, effectively subduing her insecurity and unfulfilled needs, Ratzo crawled into bed and was soon dreaming sweet dreams of gunning down her adversaries, returning home as an honored heroine of Noirnian justice, and eventually laying that accursed Saint Saffron in her grave.