"Why's that?"
I wanted to look away, but I held his gaze. "She got what she wanted. No reason for her to stick around."
He eyed me skeptically, then shrugged and said with something remarkably close to sympathy, "If you're not feeling good, you can call the full story in later."
"Thanks."
Chumley nodded and left. I lay there, thinking about Zoe Domingo. I have this habit of not properly appreciating people until they've gone. I took my ex for granted all the time I was with her, then hurt like hell when she left. I'd done the same with every lover since Rita. But I was ready to change. You make the same mistakes a few times, and either you learn from them or you should quit calling yourself an adult.
I didn't blame Zoe for leaving. In her place, I'd want to hear that the cops weren't after me before I told anyone where I was. Maybe I would get a call or a postcard from her, something saying thanks. But what I wanted was the chance to take things slowly, to see whether a human and a chimera could be happy together. I knew the odds weren't good. But maybe we could correspond while I was in Duggan. Maybe—
The smart money said I would never hear from her again. I had told Chumley the truth: she had gotten what she had hired me for. I couldn't say either of us owed the other anything. She gave me some damn fine memories. That should be more than enough to ask of anyone.
I said, "HV on. Channel 344." As I dressed, Adam Tromploy interviewed two guests with the clothes and manners of the overclass, a man who looked smug and a woman who looked constipated.
Tromploy said, "Will the discovery of this plot affect the vote on the Chimera Rights Amendment?"
The smug man said, "Given the groundswell of sympathy we're seeing, I'm sure the amendment will pass."
The constipated woman said, "But consider the setback for AI rights. An artificial intelligence engineers the werewolfings and kills Oberon Chain, one of the staunchest supporters of chimera and AI rights— Will we be seeing new restrictions on the use and development of AIs?"
Hearing earnest people make the news fit their agendas can be amusing, but it wasn't then. "HV off." As the set went dark, I thought, "So we all get what we want. Kind of."
I said, "Hey, AI. What're you called?"
The silver globe over my bed answered, "AI-ZX113."
"You need a name if you want humans to take you seriously. Pick a good one. Amos or Janna might be good choices."
"Janna Amos."
I started to smile at that, then caught myself. "Why not? You take care, Janna Amos."
"You, too, Chase Maxwell."
I limped out of the small room into a bright hallway and started for the elevator. Nurse Ndege did exist, though she was taller than she looked on HV. She stood behind a nurse's station, speaking to a blond man with his back to me.
As I passed them, the blond man turned, grinned, and called, "Max!" Paul Zweig had seemed so much a part of Mycroft's house and so much had happened in the last month that it took me a second to recognize him in this setting.
"Paul." We shook hands. "What brings you down here?"
"You."
"Oh. Mind if we talk outside? Some goons are coming for me, and I'd like a little sunshine before they arrive."
"What goons?"
"I skipped out on my indenture. They want to make sure I don't do it again. But if there's something I can do in the meantime—"
"There is." He handed me a sheaf of papers. "You can tear up this."
I opened the papers, saw my contract, and looked at Paul.
"Mycroft bought it from Duggan. You're free."
"Just like that?"
"Yep. He says the man who stopped Amos Tauber's killer deserves some reward."
I looked at the contract again, and back at Paul, just to be sure this wasn't a joke. He nodded.
"No conditions attached?"
"Not a one."
"Damn fish," I said. Paul looked a little appalled at that, and I said, "Tell him I owe him one."
"That's not how he operates."
"Okay. I owe him two."
Paul laughed. "Just say thanks and forget about it."
"Thanks. I won't forget about it."
"Well, if you really want to make a gesture, come to dinner tomorrow night and tell us all about it. Say, seven-thirty?"
"I'll be there."
As Paul pressed the call button for the elevator, Nurse Ndege hurried over to us. "Mr. Maxwell? There's one more thing—"
"Isn't there always?" I told Paul, "See you tomorrow." He waved and stepped into the elevator.
Following Ndege down the hall, I asked, "What is it?"
She smiled and opened a door. I looked into a small room. It differed most noticeably from the one I'd left by having a view of the Pacific through its holographic window. Below the HV, curled up on the white bedspread, slept a woman with jaguar hair.
Ndege whispered, "Some people in the waiting room were made uncomfortable by a chimera. Since we had the room, and she looked so beat—"
I stared at the sleeping Zoe and didn't know what I dared to hope. I said softly, "Thanks."
Ndege left. The door closed behind her with the faintest click.
Zoe opened one golden eye, grinned, then sat up, opening both eyes as she stretched her arms and spine. "Hey, Max."
"Hey, Zoe." Realizing I was staring at her, I said, "The cops say you're off the hook once they get your statement."
"Good."
"And Mycroft gave me my contract."
"I called him this morning. He also says he'll give us a loan."
"A loan?"
"To build up the agency."
"Us."
"A cat's got to work. I'm thinking the Maxwell-Domingo Agency."
"Uh huh."
"But Domingo-Maxwell would move us up in the Yellow Pages."
"Maxwell-Domingo sounds fine."
"It does, doesn't it?"
"Or we could call it any damn thing."
"The Any Damn Thing Agency." She nodded. "Memorable, and it puts us at the front of the listings."
I smiled. "We can probably do a little better than that."
"We can do a lot better than that."
We kissed then. When we separated, she said, "You know there's no way we'll ever have anything like a normal relationship."
"Normal's for statistics, not people."
"You're being glib."
"A major part of my charm."
"No, Galahad. It's why I started off thinking you were a total asshole."
"As opposed to the partial asshole—" I saw her look and stopped. "Sorry."
She touched my cheek. "Your charm is that you say what needs to be said and do what needs to be done. That took a while to see. But I'm glad I did."
"Okay. No glib."
"It'll be harder than you think."
I shrugged. "Taking the hard way has its rewards. I just never knew the best one would be you."
She smiled. "Doc would've liked you."
"She had great taste in daughters. I would've liked her. Zoe? I said what I thought. But you—"
She kissed me again. Which answered every question I cared to ask then.