“Oh, I dunno. Maybe because I just saved you from jail.”
It actually took a second for that statement to sink in. My mouth was open, ready to scream at Arvo to get the fuck out of my room, but then my brain caught up. Did he just say he saved me from jail?
“Sit down,” he continued, grinning all the broader, “and maybe I’ll tell you the good news.”
Speechless, I walked over to my desk chair and sat as primly as I could with nothing but a towel on. He proceeded to explain, with an air of amazing satisfaction, that he had just finished submitting a sworn statement to Detective Soglio, confirming that he and I were out drinking in the village the night that Gail died. He’d provided details about the drinks we had, the amount of the bar tab, the music playing in the various taverns, and how lovely the sunrise had looked over the mountains as we snuck back on campus the next morning.
“I’ll give you a copy of the affidavit,” he said, “that you can commit to memory and then burn.”
Then as if something suddenly popped into his head, he added, “Ah, one more thing—I also mentioned that we made out in my car on the way back. Plus some over the clothes stuff.”
That caused me to wrinkle my nose, but I had to admit, I was relieved and a bit grateful for Arvo. It seemed redundant to thank him. He was thanking himself with the triumphant way he told the story. But he noticed my lack of groveling and responded aggrieved.
“Do we not say thank you anymore?”
“I think I’ll thank Zeph,” I replied icily. “You were acting under his orders.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, baby. This was all me.”
“Bullshit. You’re claiming my man didn’t order you to make this investigation go away? I was in the room.”
Arvo shook his head.
“Biba Quinn thinks she’s so damned clever. You spend half a year tugging on Zephyr’s pole, and suddenly you’re an expert on the Kings. Here’s a free lesson. Zephyr says what he wants. I make it happen. He doesn’t want to know how the sausage gets made, so I don’t share the details.”
I was not impressed. It was like Arvo was bragging about being Zeph’s errand boy.
He stood up from the bed and stepped toward me, just close enough that I knew he could overpower me if he wanted.
“One more thing,” he sneered. “If I didn’t do this . . . I mean, if I just let Soglio and his pigs take you to jail, Zephyr wouldn’t be happy, but he’d get over it. It wouldn’t even take very long. There’s plenty of pussy at Stormcloud Academy, and he has his pick. I know exactly what I’d tell him: ‘Damn, Z—I did what I could. Bribed every guy in the station, but this detective is a cowboy. It can’t be helped.’ Then poof! You’re gone.”
“What’s your point, Arvo?” I replied, trying my best to sound tough.
“You are only free because of me. And anytime I want, I can go back to Soglio and amend my statement. ‘You know, detective, come to think of it . . . Biba excused herself around midnight . . . borrowed my car to go back to campus. . . . When she came back, she seemed, I dunno, tired. Like she’s been hoisting that bitch Gail by a belt around her throat.’”
Neither of us spoke for a moment. I was livid and exhausted. I wanted to dig my nails into Arvo’s smug face. How easy will it be to retract your statement once I’ve bashed in your teeth with my laptop?
But I still didn’t have any clothes on, and my soaking hair was starting to get cold. And all six and a quarter feet of Arvo Hurley were looming. I was at a total disadvantage. Then he started chuckling, lightly, like this was all a big joke.
“Of course, I wouldn’t do that, Biba,” he said. “What kind of friend would I be to hold that over your head? I just think you could be a little more grateful.”
“What would be a sufficient level of gratefulness, in your opinion?”
He turned away and strolled to my door like this was the most pleasant social visit imaginable.
“Oh, I dunno,” he mused, “but I’m sure, if I put my mind to it, I can come up with some way you can repay me.”
He flung open the door and proceeded down the hallway. He didn’t even bother to shut the door after he left.
“You’re fucking gross,” I called after him.
“You’re fucking welcome,” he answered, not looking back.
CHAPTER 9
ZEPHYR
For all the stupid shit thrown at me at the start of the year, things didn’t blow up. In fact, three weeks into the fall term, things had finally cooled off. Something compelled that Wachsbrunnen detective to drop charges against Biba. For all Dean Schmidt’s big talk, he wasn’t making an actual move against us. I didn’t want to jinx myself, but we seemed safe.