Riddles in the Rain

The cat appeared at midnight, a stray with one torn ear and eyes that had seen too much. Elena had been watching the apartment building for three nights, her cameras and lenses positioned in the van down the street. Corporate espionage wasn't exactly the life she'd imagined at twenty-five, but the bills didn't pay themselves.

"You're the new neighbor, I presume." The voice came from the doorway—Sofia, the woman in 4B, the one whose husband's company had hired Elena to dig up dirt on his business partner. Elena froze, her hand still reaching toward the cat.

Sofia's lips curved into something like a sphinx's smile—inscrutable, ancient, knowing. She held out a saucer of milk. "She only comes to people who are hiding something."

The allegation hung between them like smoke. Elena should have packed up. Should have driven away. Instead, she sat on the stoop beside her target's wife, watching the cat lap at the milk, rain dripping from the awning above them.

"My husband thinks you're a spy," Sofia said mildly, as if commenting on the weather. "He's paranoid. But paranoia doesn't mean he's wrong."

"I'm a photographer." The lie tasted like copper.

"So was my first husband." Sofia lit a cigarette, the flare briefly illuminating lines of grief around her eyes. "Photography was just his cover. Some people are always looking through lenses—never quite present, never quite honest. Even with themselves."

The cat finished the milk and wound between Elena's ankles, purring like a small engine. Sofia watched them both, that sphinx-like smile still playing on her lips. Elena realized she wasn't being interrogated. She was being seen.

"There's an opening, you know," Sofia continued, smoke curling into the wet air. "For someone who actually cares about the truth. My husband's partner? The man you're investigating? He's been stealing from their clients for years. My husband knows. He's not the victim here—he's just the smarter crook."

The cat nipped Elena's finger, sharp and sudden.

"You could keep taking pictures," Sofia said, dropping the cigarette and crushing it out. "Or you could ask yourself why you're so comfortable in the dark." She turned back toward the building. "The cat likes you. That should count for something."