Fur

10 | The Tour Guide

Konrad is the perfect gentleman, better trained in chivalry than a hunting dog with a shelf of gold trophies. But I've watched how boys treat Lattie long enough to know how this game works, and that it's wise to leave what he's selling on the counter and the money to buy it with firmly tucked in my pockets.

He opens every door to every business we enter, offers me his hand at every step, even the curbs, and stands just close enough to my side to plant the idea in the minds of onlookers that we are together and he is a protector. He hangs on my every word, interested in my interests, a smooth talker with honey under his tongue and a pinch of sugar as a reward if I bite.

It doesn't take long for me to read him as thoroughly as an old paperback.

Konrad isn't a gentleman at all—he's a flirt.

When we left the café, we walked to a sleek grey sports car which he unlocked with the remote and a flash of orange lights. It was then that I got the first nagging suspicion that he must be living as a human; I've never known a werewolf to own a car. That said car was also parked in the farthest corner of the lot—is he living his human life as a health nut, trying to get in every step he can? Or maybe catering to his gentleman persona, walking farther so others don't have to.

As he drove down the road toward town, myself sitting tense in his immaculate passenger seat—the whole car was immaculate—another theory struck me: what if it isn't his? Maybe he's borrowing it and parked it far away to avoid the risk of scratches. Maybe he stole it and wanted it somewhere where it wouldn't draw attention.

Stop, I scolded myself before reminding myself that solving a grand theft auto case wasn't my objective. My objective is finding Sophie Schwarz's murderer.

Konrad's car didn't smell like her. In fact, there was nothing to give the slightest suggestion that she had ever sat where I sat or in any other seat in that vehicle. It smelled entirely of Konrad, of his natural chemical scent, his human cologne, and the polished interior of a new car. As soon as I profiled these scents and determined Sophie's to be absent among them, I remembered that he can profile scents as well, and that mine is one sure to catch a werewolf's interest. It always has.

"Do you mind?" I asked, my finger on the window button.

"Not at all," he replied, because a gentleman would never tell his companion 'no.'

Once in town, he parked parallel on the street and I led him up and down the sidewalks, introducing him to the various businesses and shops, most of which he insisted we enter. When we passed residences, I shunned them and directed his attention ahead to the next business or point of interest, the most recent being an ice cream parlor: Schneider's Eisdiele.

At the register, the cashier tells us our total. I reach for my wallet in my pocket but Konrad is faster.

"It's on me," he says quickly, already paying the girl and handing me my mint chocolate cone.

I blink, all of it happening so fast. "What? Are you sure?"

"Of course," he smiles, turning to leave the shop, "I'm happy to."

We walk out the parlor doors. He goes first, holding the door open for me and waiting for me on the sidewalk, ice cream cone in hand.

"You don't have to do that," I say finally, feeling a squiggle of irritation arise low in my chest. He doesn't just hold it until I can take it, like a normal human would. He holds it fully, making a show of it, never allowing me to touch it myself. This is another clue suggesting that he's living as a human, and has been for sometime; werewolves aren't taught to hold doors.

Konrad shrugs, letting the door fall shut behind me. "I like to. You don't like it?"

We stroll down the sidewalk at a relaxed pace, licking our ice cream. Besides the woodsy, nostalgic scent of his species rolling off of him in generous abundance, he doesn't carry a threatening aura. It's easy to be comfortable around him despite his being a stranger, and realizing this makes that comfort go away. That's what a serial killer would want: their victim to let their guard down.