Zana didn't see Felga the next day, though she couldn't say if the woman was just busy with work, or actively avoiding her. For her own part, Zana wasn't exactly looking for Felga; she just happened to pass by the tea house, and then decided to take a long walk in the sun, to enjoy the mild weather, and the soft scarf around her shoulders.

Her feet took her to the shelter completely by accident.

For a long moment, Zana just stood under the trees and stared down at the low, long buildings that stretched silently in the morning sun. Felga had been in such a good mood when she had shown her around, praising random pieces of work, feeding treats to the humans... the humans had greeted her eagerly and cheerfully, and had looked healthy and well-fed.

Felga might be loud and a bit crude, but she seemed to honestly care for the humans. And now she thought that Zana, of all people, was nothing but an abusive, exploitative ape mistress. Just her luck to lose the only friendship she had ever been able to strike with another Chimp woman. Zana pressed her lips together. And typical to lose it because Galen did the one thing that would antagonize her!

Before she knew it, she was halfway down the hill and marching towards the shelter's office. Felga might not be there - in fact, it was highly unlikely that she would be at the shelter at this time of the day - but Halda might be there, the shelter's other leader, and Halda might know where to find her.

She had to talk to Felga. It was one thing to admit defeat against Galen in front of the whole population of Sapan, but in private, it would be different. Zana would rather bear Felga's contempt for being a meek housewife, than her contempt for being an animal abuser.

Her step faltered when she noticed two horses hitched to the gate of the shelter. She couldn't imagine that the shelter got many visitors at all, let alone at this early hour...

Then she saw the sign of the town guard on the saddlecloth.

Zana swerved smoothly to the left and ambled along the fence, away from the gate. Whatever business the police had here, she had no inclination to find out. Keeping a healthy distance between herself and anyone wearing black had become an almost unconscious habit over the past months.

"Ma'am? Wait a moment!"

Zana froze. Grass rustled behind her as someone jogged closer. Her heart was suddenly in her throat again, that familiar, dreaded feeling of alarm rattling her bones.

She slowly turned around.

The officer had already caught up to her, a tall, lean Chimp with a shiny fur and even shinier boots. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

"Excuse me for hollering at you, ma'am," he gasped, and smiled down at her. He had an open, friendly face, and intelligent eyes. It would be hard to hide anything from them. Zana swallowed and forced a smile on her face.

"I didn't realize you meant me," she lied. "I'm not usually apprehended by police when I'm out for a walk."

He laughed. "No, I suppose not. But it's rare that people stroll by the human shelter, especially at this time of the day."

"Well, I'm not from around here," Zana said, relieved to be able to be truthful about that detail, at least. "It's just such a nice morning, and I followed the cart track, and... and I ended up here..." She stopped, unsure if she should claim that she hadn't known what those buildings were or not. Sapan was a small town; it was entirely possible that this man knew about her and Felga. Mothers, it was unlikely he didn't know, after yesterday's public altercation!

The officer was still smiling, but his gaze was piercing all of a sudden. "So you didn't come out here on purpose?"

Zana blinked, genuinely confused for a moment. A tiny part of her was grateful for that reaction - it would hopefully help convince this guard that she had nothing to do with whatever was going on behind that fence. "No, I..."

Belatedly, it occurred to her that every normal person would've been more curious than secretive in this situation. "Did something happen at the shelter?" She craned her neck to peer around the guard's frame. The buildings lay as silent as before. Not a single human or ape in sight.

Zana frowned. Were the humans all still in their kennels? Shouldn't they be working right now?

The officer was still staring at her. "You're Alta, right? The wife of that traveling salesman?"

There was no use denying it. "You've met my husband? I hope he didn't persuade you to buy a tool belt..." she joked weakly.

The Chimp smiled politely, but the warmth didn't reach his eyes this time. "No, I haven't met him yet. Maybe I will... that depends on what you can tell me about last night."

Zana gaped at him. "I... I'm not sure I understand, officer. What about last night?"

The guard inhaled sharply and stared into the distance for a moment. When he looked down at her again, his face was somber, with no trace of friendliness left. "Last night, someone killed one of the chair women of the human protection society. Where were you last night, Alta?"

Zana stared up at him, stunned.

Then her brain started working again with a jerk. "In my room. Killed? Mothers! Why would... who was killed? Halda? Felga?" A terrible certainty gripped her. "Oh Mothers, it was Felga, wasn't it?" Her knees suddenly felt weak, and hot pain stabbed through her gut and made her bowl over. She sank into the grass.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" The guard's hand was on her shoulder, and only the crippling pain kept her from shaking it off and bolting. Zana shook her head and gasped.

After a moment, the pain subsided, and she carefully drew some measured breaths. "I'm sorry," she said to the grass between her knees. "I'm... I'm not well lately... actually that is the reason for our stay... I'm here for treatment... with Doctor Aldo..."

The officer made a noncommittal sound, and Zana knew he would check that claim as soon as he and his colleague were finished here. "Can you walk?"

"I'll be fine in a moment," Zana said weakly. "Why? Are you arresting me?"

"Should I?" The guard said dryly. "Do you want to make a confession?"

Zana jerked her head up to meet his eyes. "I have nothing to confess," she said sharply. "I didn't kill anyone."

The Chimp regarded her evenly. "Then I won't arrest you. I still need you at the watch for a witness statement. As it stands now, you were the last one to see the victim alive."

Zana closed her eyes. So it had been Felga. She hadn't seen Halda since that afternoon when Felga had shown her the manufactory, stuffing Halda's children with sweets, and conspiratorially whispering to Zana to not give her away, because Halda was too damn proud to accept gifts even for her children, not to mention for herself.

It was hard to believe that this loud, boastful woman would never again prowl the streets, or yell at someone for mistreating a human, or smirk at her from across the table, slurping her tea. It was completely unreal. "She was... bigger than life," Zana murmured. "How can she be dead?"

The officer shrugged. "Happens to everyone at one point. If you're not up for walking, I can let you sit behind me on my horse."

Zana scrambled to her feet. "That's not necessary, officer. I can walk just fine."

"Suit yourself. We'll make a nice, slow stroll back into town." The guard gallantly offered her his arm.

Zana ignored it and stumbled towards the cart track, one hand pressed at her abdomen.

With two long strides, the Chimp caught up to her. "Forgive my manners, ma'am. I'm Constable Rogan, and I'm leading the investigation concerning the death of Elapa Felga." He whipped out a small scroll and a pen. "You know what, we can have this interview on our way back, and you don't have to accompany me to the watch house." The charming smile was back. "No need to give our upstanding citizens more fodder for gossip, after yesterday's public performance. What was that all about?"

Zana flicked him a sideways glance. Rogan was ambling alongside her, one thumb hooked in his belt, pen tucked behind his ear, studying the trees to both sides of the path as if they were the most interesting thing out here. Of course he knew exactly what had happened the day before; Zana suspected that he was taking notes of her responses, her body language - everything that would give him a basis on which to judge when she was lying, and when she was telling the truth.

Suddenly, she was very relieved that he had no idea what she was really hiding. She could afford to be completely honest with him in everything regarding poor Felga.

"We own two humans," she said, fighting down a pang of guilty conscience; both humans were adamant that they were nobody's property. "My husband hired one of them out, for work as a woodcutter, and was approached by one of the overseers - apparently, our human has a talent for racing."

"Ah," Rogan said. Zana looked up at him, unsure what to make of that remark, but he just nodded at her to continue.

She averted her gaze again, staring straight ahead, to where the first roofs of Sapan were peeking through the treetops. "My husband agreed to let the overseer train our human, and nominated him for... a race. I don't know which one, I'm not that interested in racing. When Felga found out, she was livid."

"Did she threaten you?"

Zana hesitated for a moment. Felga's wrath had felt dangerous, overwhelming, and she had used her height and weight to invade Zana's space and intimidate her...

"No," Zana said firmly, "she didn't make any threats, except for wishing I'd choke on our human's potential prize money, but that was... I didn't take that literally."

"That's interesting," Rogan said slowly.

"Interesting in what way?" Zana prodded, when he didn't elaborate.

Rogan looked down at her from his considerable height with an apologetic smile. "Interesting in regards to how she died. I'm sorry, but I can't fill you in on the details of an ongoing investigation."

"I'm sorry, too," Zana said quietly. "I hadn't known her for long, but I regarded her as my friend, even... even after that misunderstanding yesterday. I..." She sighed. "I came here because I had hoped that maybe Halda could tell me where to find her, so that we could talk things over."

"So you didn't already seek her out yesterday? To... talk things over?" Rogan's eyes didn't leave her face, and Zana felt her fur bristle at the implied accusation.

"I told you I was in my room," she said sharply. "I returned to the inn immediately after our... that incident at the market, and I didn't leave it until an atseht ago."

Rogan nodded, unfazed by her indignation. "Can someone confirm that?"

Zana clenched her teeth and forced herself to inhale slowly through her nose. "My husband. Our other human. I assume you won't accept their statements, since they are family, though."

"It would be better if someone else could confirm your claim, too," Rogan admitted. "Mother Morla, for example."

Zana shook her head. "She saw me leave this morning, but I didn't see her yesterday, when I- Mothers, does she already know?" She stared up at Rogan. The old innkeeper was Felga's mother; Zana didn't dare to imagine what the news must've done to the old woman.

Rogan sighed and rubbed his neck. "I had to tell her before I came out here, yes."

"The poor woman," Zana murmured.

"Yeah," Rogan murmured back.

For a moment, they walked in companionable silence.

"Don't you have any idea who could've done such a thing?" Zana wanted to know.

Rogan snorted. "I have dozens of suspects. Felga didn't exactly have a talent for making friends."

"She had... strong convictions," Zana said diplomatically.

Rogan laughed. "That's one way to put it."

Zana hesitated for a moment... but she had to be sure. "Am I still among your dirty dozen, officer?"

Rogan sighed, and peered down to her with a slight smile. "No, ma'am. I think it's highly unlikely that you killed Felga." He stopped and nodded towards the inn. They had almost reached Zana's lodgings, without her even noticing. She had been too distracted by this officer... by this interrogation.

"I don't think Morla can bear my sight right now," Rogan said. He hesitated, and unconsciously tugged at his ammunition belt that was slung across his chest. "I might have more questions later," he added after a moment. "Can I find you here then?"

"I might be in town for a few hours," Zana replied, wondering about the man's sudden nervousness. "I have medical appointments I must keep. Unless I'm under house arrest?"

"No, no," Rogan said hastily. "There's no reason for that. I may send one of my officers over, just so you know. No need to be alarmed. Ma'am..." He gave her a casual salute and strolled down main street without looking back.

Slowly, Zana pushed open the gate to the inn's courtyard. She hoped she wouldn't stumble upon Morla, and immediately felt bad for wishing such a thing. Morla needed a sympathetic ear now, a shoulder to cry on; and she couldn't just assume that the woman would find either of that in one of the townspeople. Her daughter had made a lot of enemies for herself, and the resulting hostility probably extended to the whole family.

She was dead tired all of a sudden; her feet and arms felt like lead weights, and her eyes were drooping shut. Mothers forgive me, but I just can't be that person. Zana didn't think she could bear to witness the tears of another bereaved mother right now.

She just wanted to sleep now, and never wake up.

When Zana woke up, stripes of amber light were crossing her bedspread. The sun was already setting again; she had slept away the whole day.

She didn't move. She didn't want to move, didn't want to peel away the cozy warmth of the bed, to face another evening of awkward silences and Galen's furtive glances. She couldn't decide what irritated her more: Alan's expressionless mask, his slinking into corners as if he wasn't really there, or Galen's worried busyness - he was acting like a startled chicken.

When he was there, that was. Lately, she had only seen him at breakfast, grumpy and monosyllabic, smelling faintly of cider and pipe smoke. Zana suspected that he preferred the local pubs to her drab and tired company, and she... she couldn't blame him for that, could she? She wasn't really fun to be around anymore.

For some reason, the face of the officer from this morning appeared in her mind, and on the heels of that memory, the news of Felga's death. It still didn't feel real. Try as she might, Felga didn't feel dead. She had just stomped away in a fit of righteous fury, and now she was... somewhere else, and Zana had to find her to set things right. For a moment, Zana lay there, staring at the ceiling and trying to get her gut to feel the reality of what her head knew as a fact: she wouldn't be able to set things right with Felga anymore. Felga wasn't anywhere anymore, except maybe the morgue.

Maybe she should... maybe she should go to the morgue, look at Felga, say her goodbyes. Maybe that would help her come to grips with the fact that her friend had died.

Felga had been her friend - it didn't matter that they had only known each other for a few days. They had shared the same love and concern for humans, the same hope and faith that one day, apes would see that these amazing creatures were closer to them than to all the other animals, and the same determination to do everything in their power to help that dream become a reality. Felga had been the first Chimp who didn't know of Zana's upbringing among Orangutans, and as a result, had been the first Chimp to accept her at face value. Zana had never known what a friendship with another Chimp girl would be like.

And she had barely tasted that friendship, and now it was gone, and she would never have a chance to explain to Felga...

Tears pricked at her eyes, and Zana swallowed heavily. Felga had died believing that she had betrayed her, that she was abusing her humans. Whoever had killed her had trapped Zana in that false assumption, like a fly trapped in amber, forever frozen in that false image, unable to clear her name.

A sudden urgency propelled her out of bed. Who in this little town was so brutal, so ruthless, to kill a woman over... over what? Felga had roused a lot of anger - Zana remembered the arson attempts on her tea house that Felga had told her about - but surely, speaking out against animal abuse wouldn't be sufficient to drive someone to such, such savagery?

Zana peeled away the herbal poultice from her belly, while her mind went through possible candidates. The stable owners - Felga had called them 'murderous bastards'. But surely she hadn't meant that literally, right? It was just a figure of speech, to express her contempt. Or maybe they were murderous, to their racing humans. Zana vaguely recalled mentions of heart attacks and broken bones in Felga's rant.

A knock at her door tore her out of her frantic musings. She hastily threw a light house robe over her nightgown and went to open the door.

Morla stood in the corridor, eyes red and swollen from crying, and Zana's eyes welled over in response. Before the old woman could say anything, Zana hugged her. "I'm so, so sorry, she whispered into Morla's hair. "Your daughter was such a good friend, even in the short time I knew her."

Morla breathed a deep sigh into Zana's chest; then she patted her on the back, and withdrew from the embrace. When she looked up at Zana, her eyes shone with new tears, but her cheeks were dry. "There's an officer in the guest room," she whispered, "'e says 'e wants t'see you."

Zana remembered the officer's warning from earlier. "It's alright, he told me he might need to speak to me again. Tell him I'll be there in a moment - I need to change into something... more..." She helplessly gestured at her fluffy robe, and Morla nodded her understanding.

When she came down the stairs, she saw that Rogan had indeed sent one of his men, a young, chubby officer who didn't say a single word on the whole way from the inn to the...

... they passed the watch house, and Zana began to wonder where Rogan wanted to meet her. At the morgue? Did he plan to show her Felga's body to see how she'd react? Did he still suspect her to be the murderer?

Instead, the guard led her to the edge of town, to a tiny, vine-covered tavern. He stomped up the two steps to the guest room and delivered her to one of the dark wooden tables, where he saluted wordlessly to Rogan and then left without looking back.

Zana stared from his retreating back to the smiling Rogan, who had risen from his seat as soon as she and her chaperone had entered the guestroom, and was now drawing out a chair for her.

"Don't mind Junior," Rogan said with that disarming smile of his, "he can't criticize a superior officer, so he expresses his disapproval with silence. Nobody can be as loudly silent as Junior."

"I disapprove of this, too," Zana said, ignoring the offered chair. "Didn't you tell me you didn't want to provide the upstanding citizens of this town with more fodder for gossip?"

"Oh, don't worry," Rogan smiled, "this is all highly official business. I'm still in uniform, after all. And I'd never dream of being disrespectful to a married woman." He gestured once again at the chair, and this time, Zana sat down.

I'm not a married woman, though.

The thought made her nervous, although she didn't understand why. To everyone else, Galen and she were husband and wife; Rogan had no reason to see her as anything else but a respectable matron. Only she knew that she was free to... to consider him, if she chose to do so-

What am I thinking ?

She brushed her palms over the napkin to hide her embarrassment. "And are you always conducting your official business in a tavern, Constable Rogan? I wonder what the chief of police says about your expenses claims."

Rogan took his seat across from her, and shook out his napkin. "I usually file them under special investigations. Jokes aside, I don't always conduct my business here, but - well, if I have to discuss unpleasant matters like this case, at least the ambience should be pleasant, don't you agree?"

"I thought you couldn't discuss this case with me," Zana muttered. "You said so yourself."

"I said I couldn't discuss an ongoing investigation," Rogan corrected her. "But the case has been solved, and I thought that as her friend, you'd want to know. As far as I could tell, you were almost her only friend, apart from Halda."

"And why isn't Halda sitting with us at the table then?" Zana asked pointedly.

Rogan smiled wryly. "She doesn't like me very much. Besides, she has little kids she needs to take care of. She doesn't have time for frivolities like roast venison, or wine."

"This sounds as if you were celebrating Felga's death," Zana murmured. That earned her a frown from Rogan.

"I'm celebrating the apprehension of her murderer," he said. "Order has been restored, and soon enough, justice will be served. I heard they are already selecting the trees for the gallows."

Suddenly, Zana didn't feel hungry anymore. "Who was it, then?"

A waiter appeared to pour them their wine, and Rogan waited until he had vanished again before he answered. "A local stable owner named Levar. He had been Felga's special darling - she had always a scathing article or two in store for him, especially at the beginning of the racing season." He swirled the wine in its glass, and took an appreciative sniff.

"Apparently, Levar stormed the editorial office yesterday, and had some choice words to say about Felga," Rogan continued. "He made some threats against the newspaper, and against Felga, and had to be forcibly removed from the building."

Zana slowly twirled the stem of her glass between her fingers. "You said yourself that Felga had a talent for making enemies. She boasted to me that hardly a day went by when she wasn't yelled at in the street by some enraged parent."

Rogan swallowed his wine and carefully set the glass back on the table. "You're right, of course - that alone wouldn't have been proof of Levar's guilt. It gave us a motive, but neither means nor opportunity." He flashed her a half-lidded smile, and Zana hastily suppressed some indecent thoughts. "But we found Felga's body behind his kennels, and she had a camera with her. We think she was trying to expose some scandal, probably animal abuse, and he took her by surprise."

"Why would he leave her body on his property?" Zana wondered. "Surely that must make him suspicious - wouldn't he try to move her elsewhere?"

Rogan sniffed, and took another sip from his glass. "Have you ever considered joining the force, Alta?" he grinned. "You have the right mindset for this kind of work."

"No, never," Zana said candidly. "So, what's your theory?"

"I think he was interrupted by something or someone." Rogan shrugged. "And didn't have the opportunity to come back and hide his tracks."

"Interrupted by what?" Zana tried to sound interested, not skeptical. This was... too neat.

"Patience, Alta. That's what interrogation is for."

For a moment, Zana's thoughts flashed to Peet, and how Vanda and Urko had worn him down over weeks of interrogation, patiently, relentlessly. She suppressed a shudder. If this Levar had killed Felga, he didn't deserve her sympathy.

"How did he do it?" She didn't really want to know.

"Strangulation," Rogan said tersely. "We found blue fabric in the fur at her throat that matched the color of his stable silks. We think he used a bandage that is normally used for taping the humans' ankles."

Zana's hand involuntarily crept towards her own throat. "Merciful Mothers! That's... that's a terrible death." To be choked... to feel that string contract, tighter and tighter, like a rabbit in a snare, to claw and scratch and kick and-

Stop! Stop! I need to, to-

"Let's talk about more pleasant things then, shall we?"

Rogan's voice was like a lifeline, a dark and golden hum in the howling gale of Zana's horror. She stared at his face, not daring to look anywhere else for fear of being pulled back into visions of Felga in her agony. She gripped the edge of the table as if she'd fall backwards into black icewater if she let go.

"Yes, talk to me, Rogan," she said. "Tell me nice things, and only nice things from now on."