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Once Larissa left, Claudia took Mason to her room, which was off the kitchen in a part of the house she’d only seen briefly when Ben had arrived. Like the other wings, the walls were white, with gray stone floors and floor-to-ceiling windows, but because it backed into the canyon side it felt cozier.

Claudia pointed to a pair of doors as they passed. “Ben and Becky are in these two, and you’re at the end.” She turned her head slightly and lowered her voice. “Apparently, nearly getting killed gets you the big room.”

Mason hadn’t seen a small room yet, but when Claudia opened the door at the end of the hall she stopped. This room had two walls of glass, one of which apparently hung out over thin air. The stone floor was covered with thick Persian rugs, and the muted colors complemented the simple furniture. An open door near the bed led into a bathroom, in which she could see a claw-foot tub.

“Holy shit, Claude, is this for visiting royalty?”

Claudia was checking bathroom supplies. “No, this was Jonathan and Julia’s room when they were married. After she got out of prison, she moved to the other end, where there’s another room somewhat like this one.” Apparently happy with the choice of towels, she went to turn down the bed. “It doesn’t have as nice a bathtub, but she says she doesn’t have time to lie in her diluted filth anyway.”

“Wow, I was sort of looking forward to a bath, but now, not so much.”

There was an irritated meow, and Phil appeared from under the bed.

“Hello, you.” Mason sat down on the end of the bed and he jumped up, letting her know this kind of change was exciting, but he wasn’t entirely convinced it was wise. She scritched his ears and accepted his complaints.

“What happened to his leg?” Claudia was fluffing pillows.

“A car. Or a truck, maybe. When I found him, he was lying in the road, and I thought he was dead because he looked like shit. Then, as I ran past, he meowed this pathetic little meow and I totally fell for it. Two grand in vets bills later, here he is.”

“Well, he seems appreciative.” Phil had curled up on Mason’s lap and was purring.

“He’s no fool.”

Claudia was at the door. “You’ll find pajamas in the dresser, a dressing gown in the bathroom and a suitcase of your clothes under the bed.”

“Archie went through my clothes?” Mason thought about her underwear drawer and felt vaguely green about the gills. She was not a tidy drawer-keeper.

“No, your neighbor packed them, I think.” She walked out, pulling the door. “Go to sleep, Mason. I’ll wake you up for dinner.” Mason heard Claudia’s sensible shoes squeaking down the hall, then she took off her clothes and climbed into bed. Phil went under the covers, his irritation mollified by high- thread-count sheets, and the two of them slept the rest of the afternoon.

Mason woke in the early evening, a sliver of moon sharing space with the last of the sun. She could smell dinner…meatballs, possibly? She got up and looked in the top drawer for pajamas. Simple cotton ones, flannel ones, silk ones: Apparently, pajamas were a thing. Then she realized all of them still had tags; they’d gotten these pajamas for her. She was touched and pulled on the flannel ones with the dog pattern. The dressing gown was more simple, smooth satin lined with thick Turkish towel, like at a fancy hotel. It was almost worth getting beaten up for.

As she hobbled down the hall, passing open doors, Becky called her name. She turned and saw the girl sitting on her bed, wearing a pair of Mickey ears.

“I heard what happened to you. I’m sorry.” She didn’t look all that sorry, but then again, she and Mason hadn’t really had much to do with each other yet, and Mason had called her a little chickenshit when they met, so, you know, awkward.

“How was Disneyland?”

Becky smiled. “It was distracting. Ben threw up on Space Mountain.”

“Good times.”

Becky nodded. “Have the police made any progress? Do you know?”

“Are you coming for dinner? I’m starving.” Mason turned, and Becky followed. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I only got here this afternoon, and Julia didn’t mention anything about the cops. You can ask her at dinner.”

But Becky never got a chance, because when they walked into the kitchen, there was a stranger sitting at the table, next to Ben. A tall, angular woman who had once been beautiful, but probably only briefly. Now she just looked worn-out, and something else…Mason had a second or two to realize the woman was furious, when Becky stumbled next to her.

“Grandma?” Her voice was a whisper; the thud as she hit the ground was much, much louder.

“What’s with this family and the fainting?” Mason had picked up Becky and laid her on the sofa, next to the fireplace. “Seriously, you guys need to have your iron tested.”

Will was there and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Actually, syncope is typically caused by a temporary lack of oxygen in the brain, largely due to hypotension.”

Mason looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

“Low blood pressure,” Will explained. “In this case, it was almost certainly the vasovagal response to shock. Psychologists have suggested it’s a vestigial adaptation to protect us from continued attack by predators.”

“She’s playing possum?”

Becky had come round during this mini lecture, and as she opened her eyes and saw Mason, she whispered, “Is she still here?”

“Yes, Becky, I’m still here.” The old lady’s voice was dry and humorless. “Ben told me you have to stay here until the police sort this mess out, so I came to make sure you don’t cause any more trouble.”

Becky looked at Mason, and for a moment Mason saw panic in her eyes. Then a shutter came down and she broke eye contact, struggling to sit up.

“I’m fine now. Sorry about that,” she said contritely, standing up and opening her arms to her grandma. The old woman stepped forward for a hug, which was brief considering all that Becky had been through.

“How did you know where I was?” Becky went over to the table and sat down. Julia was watching her closely, as were Claudia and Will. Ben looked pale, and Mason got ready to catch him, too, if necessary.

“I called her,” Ben admitted. “Once I knew you were OK, I thought…”

“In what way is she OK?” demanded Grandma. “She’s accused of murder, is guilty as heck of being a stripper and probably a whore, and has been sleeping with women, which is a biblical sin, Romans 1:26.” She turned to Julia. “She didn’t get it from my family, you know. The bad blood comes straight from her father’s side.”

Julia just looked at her, then over at Mason. “Mason, this is Anna Jones, Becky and Ben’s grandmother.”

Mason sat down. She had been right: meatballs. Claudia put a plate of finely cut spaghetti and crumbled meatball in front of her. “I got that,” Mason said to Julia. “Welcome to Los Angeles, Mrs. Jones.”

“It’s a crappy city, full of terrible people,” replied Anna. “If Becky had never come here she would still be safe at home, and probably not doing unnatural, perverted things and dancing about in just the skin God gave her.” She looked sharply at Mason, and Mason—who was impervious to most things—felt layers of her own God-given skin peeling off. “What happened to your face?”

“I buried it between my girlfriend’s thighs and she got overexcited and squeezed too hard,” replied Mason, helping herself to Parmesan cheese. “I lost consciousness for a moment, but hey, what a way to die.” She opened her eyes wide at the old lady. “Am I right?”

Becky choked a little, down the table, and when Mason chanced a glance at Julia she saw the hint of a smile. But Grandma wasn’t amused. She leaned forward and stabbed her finger at Mason.

“Maybe it’s time you found Jesus,” she said.

“I didn’t know you’d lost him,” replied Mason, around a mouthful of spaghetti. She needed more painkillers, but she was having too much fun to get up. Luckily, Claudia came over and put two Tylenol and a glass of water with a straw in front of her.

“Try not to talk too much, Mason,” she said. “You’ll hurt your face.”

“Actually,” chimed in Will, “a little exercise will reduce the swelling.”

“Thanks, Will,” said Julia. “I think Mason will get enough exercise from eating her dinner. She doesn’t need to overexert herself.” She turned to Anna Jones. “So, you just arrived this afternoon?”

The old woman nodded, straightening her shoulders and indicating a small suitcase that sat over by the door, with an umbrella and an atrocious hat on top of it. “Yes, and a colored man who couldn’t speak a word of English brought me here. I was sure he was going to stop and rob me, but he didn’t.”

Mason had her mouth full and couldn’t call her on the racial slur, but made a mental note to trip her later if she got the chance.

Grandma turned to Julia. “You look like a normal person. How do you deal with all the sin and depravity around you?”

Mason opened her mouth, but Julia cut her off. “Well, Los Angeles is a very cosmopolitan city. People from all over the world come here following their dreams, you know.”

“Bringing their filthy habits and sexual perversions, no doubt.”

“Sometimes,” replied Julia, mildly, “but we grow plenty of our own.”

Mason was starting to feel better as the food went down, and she wondered why Julia was being so nice to this bigoted old fart. She was the mother of a dead friend, true, but that wasn’t reason enough.

Anna was just warming up. “The problem with this country,” she said, leaning over her plate and getting spaghetti sauce on her boobs, Mason was pleased to see, “is people come and take advantage of us, feeding off the government teat. They don’t work, they don’t contribute anything and they steal our jobs.”

Will frowned. “I thought they didn’t work. How can they also be stealing our jobs?”

Anna was undeterred. “They ruin everything they touch, the filthy animals.” She looked at Becky, who was trying to eat and mostly failing. “I warned you that man was trouble, but you wouldn’t listen. You had your foolish head turned all the way around and couldn’t be told.” She sniffed. “And now here you are, in trouble up to your neck, and who knows if you’ll go to jail.” She looked at Mason, nastily. “I expect you’d be happy in jail, plenty of sinful women there.”

Mason just grinned at her. Or at least, as much of a grin as was possible with all the bruising. Julia had had enough, suddenly.

“Well, Mrs. Jones, Becky and Ben are my guests, and I’m sorry I don’t have any additional space for you. Did you arrange a hotel room?”

“They’ll be coming with me.” The woman turned to her grandchildren. “Finish eating, then get your things together.”

“No, Grandma, we’re staying here. We’ll come see you tomorrow.” Ben’s voice was firm; he was clearly not as scared of the old witch as Becky was. “We have to stay here so Becky’s lawyer can find us.”

Everyone swiveled to look at Grandma, to see if she was dumb enough to fall for this. Apparently, she was, though she didn’t like it.

“If you say so. Call me tomorrow. Presumably one of you has a working phone.”

Then she picked up her fork and continued eating.

The silence was deafening.

Later, when the old lady had left, grumbling, in a cab, everyone gathered around the kitchen fireplace. Becky was eating an ice cream sundae with homemade hot fudge sauce, and Mason got up to get one, too. Reaching into the freezer, she said, “Well, I can see why you wanted to work as a stripper. Better class of people.” Butter pecan, excellent base layer, although the nuts might be a challenge. Mason rustled around and found chocolate.

Becky shook her head. “She wasn’t always like that. When we were kids she was cool. But then Mom died, and she fell in with a bad lot.”

“Church folks,” explained Ben.

“She got into it in a big way, and it changed her. By the time I was a teenager she was a holy terror. All our friends were scared of her.”

Mason sat down with her bowl piled high.

“Have some ice cream, Mason,” said Julia, sarcastically.

Mason swallowed. “It’s medicinal. The cold is helping my jaw.”

Will looked serious. “Religion is the opium of the people, you know.”

Becky nodded. “The sigh of the oppressed creature, yeah.”

Mason paused mid-bite and watched Becky get up and take her bowl to the sink. First Jade quotes Austen and now Becky quotes Marx? What the fuck?

Becky turned to Julia and smiled a sweet smile. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Thank you for everything, Mrs. Mann. You’re awesome.”

“I have my moments,” replied Julia. “Good night, Becky.”

Ben got up, too, and they all watched them walk away. They heard the bedroom doors close, then Julia turned to Will. “She’s going to run.”

“Totally,” he replied.

“Gone before dawn,” said Claudia.

Mason was confused. “Wait, what? Becky’s going to leave in the middle of the night? Why?”

“Because she’s scared to death of her grandma, clearly. Who wouldn’t be?”

“Well, apparently Ben isn’t, or is he running, too?”

Julia looked at Will and raised her eyebrows. He looked at Claudia, who shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Probably not,” Will said. “It’s not the same with him.”

“But why would she run? She’s safe here, right?”

Julia turned up her elegant hands. “I think so, you think so, but judging by the expression in her eyes, she doesn’t. I wonder what she’s so scared of.”

“Shall I follow her?” Will went to get some ice cream. “I can set up at the bottom of the canyon. She won’t see me.”

“Maybe,” said Julia. “I’m still thinking.”

“You’re all nuts. I don’t think she’s going anywhere. But I’m going to bed.” Mason wandered off to her bedroom, hearing the low rumble of voices behind her. They were still talking when she dropped off to sleep, and when she woke up the next morning, Becky was gone.