Zig Zag is Copyright © Max Black Rabbit. Sabrina, Darke Katt and R.C. are Copyright © Eric W. Schwartz. James Sheppard, Marvin Badger, Rhonda Badger, Yohni, Alexi, Michael, Esteban, Mia, Wanda Vixen and Tamara Rabbit are Copyright © James Bruner. Alex O'Whitt is © Tigermark. The B-Team is © Silver Coyote. Jean LeBrun, Gabrielle Ryder, Timothy Bigglesworth-Farthington von Salzburg, Malcolm Grazer, Doctor Fox Jones, Peter Spermophilus, Miranda Spermophilus, Dina Spermophilus, Leo Leon, Miriam Redtail, Lizzy Doe, Emma Grey, Professor Moose Nicholson, Professor Erica Belge and Pethouse Magazine is © Joan Jacobsen, 2005. All other characters appearing in this story, except where otherwise specifically noted, are likewise © Joan Jacobsen.

Legal Notice: This story is Copyright © 2005 by Joan Jacobsen. This story may not be sold or used for commercial profit in any form or fashion. This story may not be modified in any way. This story may not be posted on a mirror site or any other Internet site without the written permission of the author. This story may not be distributed on print, magnetic, electrical or optical mediums.

Permission to use characters that are Copyright other individuals was obtained prior to the appearance of said characters.

The author, Joan Jacobsen, hereby asserts moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is an independent work of fiction with no connection whatsoever to Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions or James Bruner and is in no way meant to imply any connection with Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions, or James Bruner. This story contains characters created by Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, James Bruner, Tigermark and Silver Coyote. Events and characters occurring in this story should not be considered part of the storylines for either 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online' or 'Sabrina Online - The Story'.

In fact, as far as 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online', 'Sabrina Online - The Story' and 'Zig Zag the Story' are concerned, this story does not exist. The artists disavow any knowledge of and do not officially sanction the events in this story.

Calling on the past

Miranda picked up the phone and started dialing. She lodged the receiver between her cheek and her shoulder, flicking through her directory with one paw and opening a drawer with the other. She had called around most of the morning, and so far, the yields had been pretty slim.

"Good morning, ma'am, you're talking to Lieutenant Miranda Spermophilus of the Cincinnati Police Department. I'm calling about a Jerem..."

She sighed and closed the drawer again, taking the receiver in her now free paw and looking at it. Over half the calls she'd made about the deceased weasel had ended like that. The other half had given her preciously little to go by.

It was starting to get annoying. Apparently, the weasel had very few friends. His family was not terribly helpful, either. They'd been making very...poorly veiled demands that Emma be found guilty of murder. Jeremy's father had made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that he fully expected Emma to receive the death-sentence. Expressions such as 'I have very influential friends' and 'Do you know who I am?' had been used liberally.

Yet she needed to formulate a clear and, most importantly, unbiased impression of who Jeremy Mustela had really been. What kind of fur he was. So far, all she had figured out was that he had a nasty temper, a nasty tendency to beat his girlfriend, and even nastier parents.

All in all, a very nasty picture. And it was difficult for her to believe it was that one-sided.

She wouldn't help Emma by going to court with that kind of information. No one would take it seriously. The problem was that whenever she tried making contact with Jeremy's social circle, she ran into dead ends.

It didn't seem like that particular fur had really had much of a social circle in the first place. More than one fur she'd spoken to had hinted that it was his own fault, which of course backed up Emma's claim that she had acted in self defense. But so far, none of those Miranda had spoken to were unwilling to go on record with their information.

The squirrel put the phone down for a moment and closed her eyes. She leaned back in her seat and stretched. There was a way to solve this...she just had to think of it. All the technical aspects of the case were well in paw. Forensics was already involved. Ballistics was checking the bullets dug out of the deceased against the firearm found on the site. It was a foregone conclusion that they'd match, but Miranda believed in being thorough. She could talk to Emma again...providing the mink was in any fit state to talk at all.

The last time she'd been involved in some kind of criminal investigation surrounding that particular group of furs, she hadn't been alone either. But the costs had been high. Her husband had lost a paw. Sergeant Otetiani, a very large and physically capable cop from another precinct, had spent six months fully recovering from the wounds he'd suffered and he had never quite made it. And of course, William Pongo had retired.

Miranda blinked and nearly toppled backwards.

That was it!

She picked up the phone and dialed again. It didn't get picked up right away and she was about to hang up when someone finally answered it.

"Good morning, Mr. Pongo...it's Miranda Spermophilus. Yeah, I know it's been way too long and I'm ashamed of myself for it. Look...I have a precarious situation on my paws and I could use your professional opinion and probably some assistance," she said, smiling widely at the sound of her old friend's voice.

She listened and nodded a few times, before going on.

"Well, it's the same group of friends. It's a murder case this time. Thing is, I don't think it was murder...not for a second. I think it was a case of self defense, and it's an open and close thing if you ask me. But I need someone who can get me some information about the deceased...discreetly. Think you're up for it?"

Again, she waited for William Pongo to respond. Then she grinned. "Sure, if you drop by later, I'll bring you up to speed. Probably best if you come by my private home, though...no need to advertise that you're involved in this. That kinda off sets the 'discreet' thing, after all."

A moment later, she said goodbye and hung up. When she went back to her paperwork, she had a smile on her face and a good feeling was seeping through her. Somehow, everything would work out, now.

###

"Lizzy, for the two hundredth time, I'm SORRY, okay?"

Leo was about ready to jump out of the nearest window from desperation. Ever since Lizzy learned what had really happened on the fishing trip...she had presented him with a shoulder cold enough to freeze over the Sahara.

He was sitting in the living room, looking miserable. In half a week's time, he'd be off for the army, and for all he knew, he wouldn't have a home to come back to, afterwards. He had wept a good deal, when Lizzy didn't see. Not regretting what he had done to Jeremy, but regretting the outcome. Bitterly. He had spoken to Esteban several times. He had apparently managed to get Jean to calm down somewhat...at least they were back on talking terms, again.

"I did not mean for this to happen..." he said, quietly. His voice was getting thick again. "How many times must I say so?"

Lizzy turned around and looked at him with a steely gaze. "I never said I thought you intended this. If I believed that, Leo, you'd already be on your way back to your parents. Trust me on that one!"

Those were the first words the lion had heard from his girlfriend since they had come back from the police-station. He grasped at it, like a drowning fur would grasp at a straw to hold him above water.

"But...but if you know I never intended this, why are you so angry?" he asked...and instantly regretted his choice of words. "No...no, bad way of putting it. Bad...very bad!"

Lizzy nodded, slowly. "I'd say it was. But I'll tell you anyway. I'm pissed off about this, because you and Esteban acted like a pair of teenagers. You thought that you could out-bully a bully. I thought you had more brains than this, Leo. All you accomplished was to anger him to such an extent he went back to his victim to finish the job. What would have happened if Emma didn't have that gun? And even though she had it...YOU two forced the situation to arise where she had to use it and now SHE has to deal with the trauma...if she doesn't end up on death row for it!"

Leo blanched and swallowed. "No...that won't happen, Lizzy. She shot him in self defense. And the cops know that Esteban and I had taken him for that...fishing trip..." he said, quietly.

"She still shot him. There's no law against being brain dead idiots like you and Esteban for pulling that moronic stunt of yours. Macho idiocy, that's what it was. Did you EVER consider sitting down with Emma, telling her that you knew what was going on and that you'd protect her and support her, and that you thought she ought to go to the police?"

"Erhm..."

"I didn't think so!"

Lizzy stormed into the kitchen and Leo looked down again. So far this wasn't going well. He felt like it didn't matter what he said or did...that he couldn't improve the situation whatsoever.

"They told me at the station that...they're not going to call me back in for more questioning," he said. He was wringing his paws. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this awful. Lizzy was right. He'd behaved like a teenager in High school who thought he could scare a fourteen year old bully into behaving. It hadn't worked then...why would it work as an adult?

The answer was...it didn't work.

He had wanted to stand up for Emma, and instead he had managed to put her in the worst possible situation.

All he could do was hope and pray. But somehow, it didn't seem like that was enough. He got up and headed to the kitchen door.

"Lizzy..." he said, quietly.

"Yes?" the doe answered, without turning around. She was emptying the dishwasher. So forcefully that it seemed she might break the china.

"I'm going back down to the station..." the lion said, quietly.

Lizzy looked over her shoulder. "What do you hope to accomplish by that? You said yourself they won't be asking you any more questions!"

Leo shrugged and headed towards the front hall to get his windbreaker. "I don't care. I'm going to go tell Emma what I've done. And I'm going to apologize to her."

Lizzy put down the plate she was holding and turned around. She couldn't see Leo in the door anymore, so she moved out of the kitchen, finding him in the front hall, putting on his shoes. She looked at him for a long moment, crossing her arms across her chest.

"You're going to apologize to her?"

"What else can I do? It's the only decent thing I can possibly do in this case, " the lion said, without looking up. He was tying his shoelaces. "It was my idea. Esteban went along with it because I asked him to. He insisted... vehemently... that we should not actually hurt Jeremy. He said we shouldn't stoop to his level...and that if we did hurt him, he'd just go to the police about it. The whole thing was my idea, from the start. And I'm going to take responsibility for it."

Lizzy took a step forward and put a paw on Leo's shoulder. "Good. Now I recognize you..." she said...with more warmth than she'd spared the lion since it all began. "When you come back, we'll find out what we can do to help her. You got her into this mess...and since you're going off to join the army, you are not going to be around to help get her out of it. But I'll do what I can in your stead. I promise."

Leo blinked back a few tears and looked at the doe. "You will? But...why?"

"Because I love you. You're a brain dead idiot at times, Leo...but I love you just the same. Now get a move on. I'll have dinner ready when you get back."

Leo didn't look a gift doe in the mouth. He just hurried down the stairs.

###

Erica Belge knocked gently on the door to Jean's office. She wasn't quite sure how to deal with the conversation coming up, but she knew she had to do this. For decency's sake.

"Come in..." the voice said from the other side.

The rabbit entered, closing the door behind her. "Hello there, Jean..." she said, and turned to look at the vixen.

The sight was a mild shock. Apart from a lack of dirt on her clothes, Jean looked like she had risen from the grave moments before. Her eyes were sunken and her shoulders were slumped. She was shaking, slightly.

"Good afternoon, Professor...it's good to see you," the vixen said and tried for a smile.

It wasn't exactly a successful attempt, either.

Mrs. Belge shook her head and pulled up a chair. "Let's not pretend this is a good afternoon, Jean. I remember Emma Grey as a student, you know. And I know you and her were very good friends. I assume your appearance has something to do with her arrest?"

Jean nodded and rubbed her face. "Yeah, I haven't slept too much since I got the news. I'm sorry, I know I look like Death and not even warmed up. I mean...they asked in class if I was ill."

"Want to talk about this?" Mrs. Belge asked, folding her paws in her lap.

"I...would like that a lot, if you don't mind listening, that is?" Jean asked.

Mrs. Belge shook her head solemnly and smiled a reassuring little smile. She knew perfectly well that there was a time to be professional and a time to just help someone who needed it. This was one of the latter times.

Jean took a moment to collect her thoughts, then she turned her chair to look at her boss. "It really started, for me...the day I got this position. Esteban and I were throwing a party in the evening, to celebrate it. Emma arrived with her boyfriend...whom none of the rest of us had met yet...and she looked like she'd been hit by an eighteen wheeler. She kept insisting, though, that she'd had an accident while riding her bicycle. I mean...afterwards, it was so obvious that something was really wrong," she began.

Mrs. Belge just listened. Nothing she said would really matter much, anyway, and Jean clearly needed to unload.

###

Gabrielle grinned widely and pointed towards a large building that was a convention center. Brightly lit in the early dusk, by numerous spotlights, it stood out a mile in it's surroundings. Yohni had taken a brief look, but hadn't noticed the banners and streamers yet. Instead, she seemed to be rather engrossed in a fashion magazine she had bought at a nearby stall.

"You can't go to Paris and not shop your heart out for clothes and perfume," the mongoose insisted. "Some of these things are just fantastic, too!"

"So are the prices, I'm sure...but we've got some money to burn. But before we go and do that, look up from the magazine and tell me if you see what I'm seeing?" Gabrielle asked.

Yohni closed the magazine and looked up. A moment later, a big smile spread across her face too. "Ooooh my goodness. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked and nudged the filly's ribs with her elbow.

"I think I am. Let's go Gatecrash!"

"This isn't something you had planned, is it?"

Gabrielle shook her head and just kept smiling. "I had no clue. Honestly. I don't read French anyway, but I think some words are fairly international!"

"What? Like 'sex'?" Yohni giggled.

The bronco nodded and slipped on her sunglasses. "Let's see if we manage to even get inside..." she said.

Yohni tried hard to suppress her giggles. She looked up at the streamers and banners again. It stood to reason that conventions like this didn't just take place in the states. But this one they'd be able to enjoy as visitors...at least until someone recognized them.

"I wonder what Zig Zag would say if she knew we went to a foreign porn convention," she said and looked up at Gabrielle.

"Ohhh, she's probably going to skin us both out of pure envy. You know how she dominates these things when she's there," the equine said and shrugged, still grinning. "Come on, let's get inside..."

Yohni nodded. "Hang on, just one moment," she said and put her own sunglasses on, before fidgeting with her wristwatch for a moment.

"What was that about?" Gabrielle asked, heading towards the entrance.

Yohni just grinned. "You'll see, filly, you'll see," she answered.

###

Esteban clicked the switch on the camera and looked around the sets. The actors and actresses were already heading towards the changing rooms. Or the bed in the common room, for all he knew.

He had very little idea what time it was, but apparently, it was time to call it a day.

"Esteban, can I talk to you for a moment?" the voice of Marvin called out.

"Si...naturalee," the wolf answered and turned towards the majordomo.

Marvin nodded, sipping coffee from his enormous mug. He had a concerned expression on his face. His free paw was stuck into the pocket of his jeans. "Good. What's wrong with you, lobo?"

"Wrong, Marveen?" Esteban asked, hoping he'd be able to bluff his way out of this one. He didn't want to have to deal with everything that was going on in his private life while at work, too.

"Yeah, wrong. You look like someone ran you over, and you've been so far gone all day that after Zig Zag tried to get through to you four times to ask you something, she just gave up. She asked me to talk to you..."

Esteban blinked. He hadn't heard Zig Zag say anything to him at all. But if Marvin said it had happened, he believed it. He sat down, leaning back against the camera. It weighed twice as much as him, anyway...it was hardly going to topple. He pulled his knees up, rested his elbows on his knees and put his face in his paws.

"I don't even know where to begeen, Marv..." he said, his voice breaking. "Eet's all to do weeth that murder..."

Marvin was momentarily taken aback. He put his mug aside and pulled up a chair, sitting down astride it, leaning his arms on the back rest.

"Murder?" he asked, incredulously.

Esteban wiped his eyes and nodded. "Emma Grey...you might have read about eet een the newspapers..." he said, quietly.

"Wait...wait..." Marvin began, squinting. "Wasn't she one of those friends of Jean's that came along to the convention a few years ago?"

The wolf nodded. "And she's steell one of Jean's best friends...and mine, for that matter."

"Okay..." the badger muttered and scratched his chin. "Tell me the whole thing, why don't you?"

He picked up his coffee mug again and braced himself. Somehow, he didn't think this was going to be a happy ending kind of story...

###

The insides of the convention center was packed full of more or less uninhibited furs. There were a lot of shows going on, on stage. At one of the other entrances, a large group of protesters had congregated. The banners were all in French, of course, so neither Gabrielle nor Yohni understood a word of what they said. Somehow, it didn't seem necessary to translate them to get the idea.

"I think I saw the word 'Babylon' on one of them," Yohni chuckled. "Cliché's are the same all over the world, aren't they?"

Gabrielle nodded and picked up a pair of handcuffs from one of the stalls, looking at them rather incredulously. They were covered in some kind of pink feathery material.

"Who would put these on their husband?" she asked and shook her head in disbelief, putting the cuffs back down.

Yohni shrugged. "I suppose some might put them on their wives..." she offered.

"Good grief, Yohni, don't you know we're the strong sex?"

"Touché."

The pair grinned and headed further into the seething mass of excited furs. The stalls looked pretty much like anything they'd find at an American convention. Several sold accessories like the handcuffs Gabrielle had looked at. Others sold movies from various studios.

Quite a few stalls had ZZ Studios materials for sale.

Yohni stopped at one and looked at a selection at one of the larger stalls. A young female canid in a tight fitting T-shirt smiled politely at her from behind the stall.

"Bonsoir Mademoiselle..."

Yohni looked up and laughed. "Oh, sorry...sorry, I don't speak French. I'm just a tourist," she explained and shrugged apologetically.

The canid ran a paw through her hair to get a few stray locks out of her eyes, grinning. "My apologies, M'mselle. My English is...not too good, I fear?"

"Sounds just fine to me, really," the mongoose said, putting the movie down she'd been holding. It was one of the first she'd had a part in while working for Zig Zag.

It brought back memories. Back then, Gabrielle hadn't worked for the studio yet, for one thing. And she, herself, had been so desperate for affection that she'd dated someone new every week or two, just to make sure they wouldn't grow tired of her before she broke it off with them. It wasn't exactly a part of her life she was proud of.

"Hey...love, will you look at this? We ought to buy this one for the Boss, just as a souvenir!" Gabrielle called out from nearby.

Yohni looked over and saw Gabrielle posing next to a full-size replica of Zig Zag. The likeness was quite astonishing.

"I don't think she's THAT self-centered. Besides, how would you get it back to the United States?? It doesn't pack conveniently into our luggage, y'know!"

Gabrielle grinned her trademark grin. "Aww, where's your sense of adventure. We'll find a way. Let's find out what it costs first," she commented and looked around for someone to ask.

The femme in the stall gasped and looked between the two Americans. "Mon Dieu..." she whispered and turned around, calling out in French to one of her colleagues.

Yohni tried to catch a few words, but it was impossible to understand anything. The femme was rattling off in French so fast she barely had time to breathe. The mongoose turned towards Gabrielle and shrugged, looking puzzled.

"What is going on?" she managed to ask before a throng of furs erupted from behind the stall.

"Either we're about to be attacked, or we've been recognized..." Gabrielle commented. "They don't look hostile though..."

Yohni chuckled and looked at her wrist watch. "Twelve minutes, twenty six seconds," she said.

"Huh?"

"That's how long it took before someone figured out who we were...I didn't think it'd take this long."

Gabrielle winked and tapped her sunglasses. "Disguise, love..."

Yohni laughed and shook her head. "Your bustline can't be disguised."

"Tout merde...!" Gabrielle sighed and struck a hurt pose. With a twinkle of laughter in her eyes.

Yohni was about to make a snappy retort. She never made it, before she had a number of autograph books shoved in her paws. Giggling, she obliged.

Fame could be fun, sometimes.

###

It was nearly nine in the evening when someone knocked at the cell door. Emma looked up and blinked. At least this cell had some semblance of privacy, instead of merely having bars all around. She had managed to regain some of her composure through the day.

She'd managed to remember most of what had happened, and she intended to tell everything to Miranda the following day. The whole mess. She hadn't expected someone to arrive this late though. It'd be lights out soon, for all she knew.

"You've got a visitor, Miss Grey," a voice said from the outside.

"I know...you have to cuff me," Emma answered and stood in the middle of the room, holding her paws out in front of her.

"That won't be necessary," a gruff, but friendly, male voice said.

The guard seemed to pause a moment. "She's a suspect in a homicide case, sir...this is most irregu..." he began.

The gruff voice interrupted. "I don't care about irregular, kid. I was talking to hardened criminals when you weren't a merry glint in your dad's eyes. This femme isn't one of those. Now let me in there."

"As you wish, sir..." the guard mumbled. "But I'm not taking responsibility for this..."

"Fine, fine...whatever," the gruff one answered.

The door opened and Emma moved back a little. She had no idea what was going on, but the stranger didn't seem to believe she was guilty of cold murder. That was a comforting thought.

A figure moved into the door. Emma couldn't really make out what species the new arrival was, as the light in the hallway behind him was stronger than in the cell. He seemed rather...formless. Not very tall, but with enormously long arms, he moved in a slightly slouching but very purposeful way as he stepped into the cell.

The door was closed behind him and Emma got her first good view of William Pongo. The orangutan was in his late fifties or early sixties, and seemed to consist mainly of wrinkles. Even his suit was one big wrinkle. Somehow, Emma couldn't help thinking of a walking prune.

"Good evening, sir..." she said, trying her best to smile politely.

William Pongo shook his head, making wrinkled skin fly around his face in all directions. "Nope. It's not. It's a thoroughly shitty evening, Miss Grey, but thank you for the sentiment," he said and pulled up the only chair in the room, sitting down.

He wasn't exactly lightweight. The chair creaked slightly.

Emma was caught slightly off guard. "Why's it such a bad evening?" she asked.

"You're in here, aren't you? Instead of safe at home, where you should be," the orangutan asked and took out a big cigar. "Mind if I smoke?"

"Not at all, sir...but I fear I don't have an ashtray."

"Don't worry about that. I carry a portable one."

William took off his jacket and fished a small metal container out of the pocket. Then he rolled up his sleeves and bit off the end of the cigar, before lighting it. He leaned forward slightly, looking at Emma for a long moment, without saying a word. His eyebrows moved, slightly, as if he was contemplating something.

"You're innocent," he said, after a while.

"Yes sir..." Emma said, not quite sure what was going on. "Well...I did shoot him..."

William shrugged. A move, Emma noticed, that seemed to defy all laws of gravity. It made the simian's shoulders go up higher than the top of his head. "Doesn't make a difference. You didn't murder him. You shot him in self defense, didn't you?"

Emma just nodded and looked down. "I hate guns, sir...I only had one because my dad said it was a dangerous world for a young femme to...to..."

William nodded. "Sadly, your father is a wise fur. I wish I could say he wasn't right about that, but we both know that he is. Look, I'd better introduce myself. I'm William Pongo. I used to be a cop...before I retired."

Emma blinked. She'd heard Gabrielle and Jean both mention that name. "Oh...my God. You helped Jean, didn't you? When...when that creep from University wanted to kill her."

"You mean Lance Gulo? Yeah, that was my last case. The fight where he got killed convinced me I needed to retire and let younger furs take over," the orangutan said, smiling. It was probably meant to be a slight, crooked smile but it made the entire left side of his face curl upwards.

The sense of relief Emma felt was unlike anything she'd experienced before. She didn't know what kind of good fortune had sent this retired cop her way, but somehow, she knew her situation was vastly improved already.

"What can I do to help you, then?" she asked, slightly timidly. She didn't really know how to address her would-be and rather unlikely savior.

William chuckled. "First of all, you have to understand I'm not a cop anymore. I'm just a private eye, and I don't have any real influence around here. But I might be able to find evidence that helps support you. So...I need to know about Jeremy Mustela. What kind of fur he was. Who his friends were, where he hung out. Anything at all that you can think of. I'll give you until tomorrow afternoon to think of that. I'll make sure you have some paper and a pen to write it all down. I'll need that, okay?"

Emma nodded again.

"Good," William went on. "Right now, though...I'm going to have to ask you to tell me what happened that night. I really need you to give me the whole story, even though I know it'll be very unpleasant for you."

Sighing and closing her eyes, the mink nodded once more. She had resolved to tell Miranda all of it. There was no reason why she shouldn't tell William Pongo as well. There was just one question she had to ask, first.

"Why are you here, sir? Why are you helping me?"

William didn't answer right away. He wanted to, but there was such pain...and worry...and desperate loneliness in the voice that had just asked him, that he didn't know how to respond to it at first. Finally, he reached out and patted Emma's knee, gently.

"Because Lieutenant Miranda asked me to...and she's the finest cop I've ever had the privilege of working with. If she says you're innocent, then you are innocent. If she says you need help, I'll gladly do so. I owe Miranda one...and her husband, for that matter. She wanted this to be 'discrete'...that's why I'm here this late. After office hours, and all that."

Emma looked at her paws. It was good to know someone cared enough to call in favors like that, to help her. "Thank you," she whispered and sniffled. Wiping her eyes, she tried to steel herself.

"It was so stupid, sir..." she began and looked up at the simian. "I had decided to break it off with him, at last. We'd been dating for just over half a year, and he had beaten me several times in that period. Many times, in fact. At first...he was really, really sweet. Then he started to change. After the...courtship...was over. He got possessive and he'd get angry at me for little things."

William took out a notepad and a pen, and started jotting down a few notes, nodding for Emma to go on.

She did, after trying to collect her thoughts again. "He wanted to control me, sir. Told me what to wear, who I could see, who I couldn't see. He even forbade me to take a job. I had...an interview recently. With the Ohio Historical Society. As an archivist. It was just the kind of job I'd really have loved to do. But...when he learned about it, he got angry and asked if I thought he couldn't take care of me. Then he ridiculed my education and when I tried to speak up against it, he beat me. Very badly, sir..."

"Did you call the Society to tell them you couldn't make the interview anyway?" William asked.

"Yes sir...the next day," Emma explained and watched as William jotted that down, too.

"Go on," the orangutan said after finishing that note. "Let's hear about that evening then..."

Emma took a deep breath. "I had decided, as I said, that I'd break it off with him. I had just had enough. He was turning me back into the wreck I once was, all over again and I didn't want that. I knew he was off on a fishing trip with Leo Leon and Esteban Lopez...they're both friends of mine..."

"I know. Mr. Leon is waiting to talk to you too, outside. The guards have already told him he isn't getting in, today. He seems determined to wait outside, until they DO let him in, however. I overheard him arguing with one of the guards."

"Thank you for letting me know, sir," Emma said, quietly. "I didn't expect Jeremy to get back from that fishing trip until Sunday, but...suddenly there he was. He looked awful. And...and he was very angry."

"How do you mean he looked awful?" William asked, jotting down a few more things.

Emma shrugged and sighed. The truth of the matter was...that he'd looked like a bum. Dirty and ragged. She rubbed her face and tried to find a good way of explaining it.

"He was very dirty. He stank...like he badly needed a bath, you know? He was dusty and grimy, and his fur was all matted. He'd walked a long way, I think. He was very angry, though. I didn't get to look at the details. He started screaming and yelling at me, about how he was going to pay me back for what I had done to him. He tried to hit me but...he was still in the doorway. I couldn't close the door...he was already in it. I just jumped backwards...tried to run...you know...run away from him. But...where could I run? My apartment is on the second floor, and unless I felt like jumping out the window, he was barring my only escape..."

William nodded again and motioned for the femme to continue.

"I tried to run to the bathroom first. If I could lock the door, you see? Bar it...but he cut me off. He was really furious...shouted that he'd kill me for this. I...didn't know what 'this' was. He kept shouting about getting even for what my friends had done to him. He chased me...through the apartment. He caught me in the living room. I didn't think I'd survive, sir..." the mink whispered, looking down.

"That's where he beat you?" William asked.

Emma nodded. It took a while before she could continue. The memories were still very fresh. The bruises were still there. Her cracked ribs were still making it hard to breathe normally.

"Yes sir..." she said, after a while. "He beat me...and kicked me...and he kept saying it was my fault and now I had to pay for it. He..."

William nodded. "Go on..."

"He said he'd kill me, sir...and that no one would miss me. That I was worthless and useless and he didn't know what he'd seen in me. I managed to get loose. I kicked him...as hard as I could. I tried to get away again, but he was right back over me. He tried to grab a hold around my throat...tried to strangle me. I was already at my desk..."

"That's where you kept your gun?"

Emma sighed and nodded again. "It was. He tried...to strangle me sir. What could I have done?"

"Nothing...except what you did. You don't need to convince me, Miss Grey. I believe you. Now that I know this, I'm going to see about finding out more about Jeremy's past. I'll say right away...you have a very, very strong case. You were injured when you were arrested. You called the police yourself...you didn't try to run. You've cooperated and you're not trying to make things hard for the cops investigating this," William said, putting away his notepad.

Emma bit her lips. She couldn't ask what she wanted to ask. She was too scared. The orangutan seemed to notice and reached out, giving her paw a little squeeze.

"My job will be to make sure you don't even get a black mark in your records, Miss Grey. If you hadn't shot him, you would have been dead. I have no doubt of it," he said, gently, getting up.

As he left the cell, Emma looked at her paws again. Not a black mark in her records...

What about the black mark on her soul, though...

She knew that would stay with her forever.