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stared off in thought for a second. Then she said, “Yes, we’re done, Mistress Kat.”

Judith looked about as shocked as I was. Her mouth dropped open, and her face was pale.

“Nice cover,” Vicki said, “by day you are a raging feminist that ignites the feminine mystique for all the bored housewives, and by night, you entertain their philandering husbands in harmless games of desire and seduction.”

“How did you know?” she choked out.

“I have my ways,” she said. “Look, your secret’s safe with me. But, I’ll ask you to do me a solid right back. Tell me what you know about the night of the murder.”

“I don’t know anything, I swear,” she insisted, and this time her tone was genuine. “All I know is that after the show, I saw the redhead get into a car with a man.”

“Was this before or after the murder?”

“It was before I knew about the murder,” she said. “But I don’t know if he was already dead or not.”

“What kind of car?” Vicki asked.

“It was dark,” she said. “But it was a blue one. Prius, maybe?”

I texted AJ and asked if she knew what kind of car Gabriel drove.

“How did she exit the building?” Vicki asked.

“I didn’t see her exit,” she said. “I just saw her outside.”

“What area of the building?” Vicki asked.

“It was near the east entrance,” she said.

“Can you describe the man she was with?” Vicki asked.

Judith shook her head. “I didn’t get much of a look at him. He met her outside the vehicle, and then they got in together. I mainly just saw her.”

“And you are sure the woman you saw was the redheaded dancer from the performance?”

“It was Julianna Spencer,” she said. “I recognized her immediately from the photo on the program.”

“And did she look disheveled at all?” Vicki asked.

“Disheveled? No,” Judith answered.

“How did she look when you saw her?” Vicki asked.

“She looked happy,” Judith said wistfully. “She looked really happy.”

“Thank you,” Vicki said. “That’s all we need.”

“And about the reduced sentencing?” she asked.

“We’ll need you to testify what you saw in court,” Vicki told her. “You’ll need a lawyer. And when you get one, they can work out a deal with the prosecutor on the misdemeanor charges of assault and trespassing in exchange for a testimony on the felony case. Is this a first offense for you?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Then you’re likely to get the misdemeanor charges dropped altogether,” she said. “You’ll need to get a lawyer as soon as possible.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Vicki rose to leave, and then Judith piped up.

“One more thing,” she said.

“What’s that?” Vicki asked.

“I don’t know if it’s important,” Judith said. “But for what it’s worth, when they were leaving, I saw a man watching them in a red Escalade.”

“Do you know who this man was?” Vicki asked.

“No,” she said. “I just saw him. I didn’t think anything of it, there could be a thousand reasons for him to be there. But, later, when I thought about it, I didn’t think there was much reason at all. It was behind the stadium, in a deserted lot. Why would he be there? I don’t know. Maybe it’s nothing. But for what it’s worth.”

“Thank you,” Vicki said.

Vicki left, and Judith sat alone in the interrogation room. I thought, for a moment, I saw her cry. Then, a guard came in and escorted her away. I met Vicki out in the hall, and she looked giddy.

“Wow,” I whispered.

“Thank you, Bernice,” Vicki said.

“Anytime, Miss Vicki,” Bernice replied.

We left the police station and headed back to the car. “Mistress Kat? How did you know that?”

“A little recon work, I guess,” she said. “There’s a dominatrix studio on the outer west side that poses as a photography shop.”

“Is there really?” I asked. “What photography shop?”

“It’s called Kat Studios,” she said.

“I’ve never heard of it,” I said.

“They keep a low profile,” she said, “Sessions are ‘by appointment only,’ and they don’t have a sign.”

“How do you know this?” I asked.

“How do you not?” she replied. “I thought everyone knew this.”

“Not me,” I said.

“Okay,” she said. “Well, the sign is just their logo in the window, a small black cat in repose. They don’t advertise, they don’t even have their name printed anywhere. The logo is just the shorthand for the place.”

“It sounds like an exclusive club or something,” I said. “There are a lot of places like that in the O.C.”

“Exactly,” she said. “And they try to attract Sedona’s version of the same demographic. Wealthy, bored, and pervy.”

“Which is like, half of our clients,” I quipped.

We both laughed because lately it had seemed to be that way.

“How did you connect Judith Klein with this place?” I asked.

“Well,” she said. “In the jail uniform, things that are normally covered, are brought to light. When she stood and postured in anger, the pants didn’t fit quite right, and they slipped a little. I caught a glimpse of her midriff. She’s got a tattoo of the Kat Studios logo.”

“For real?” I asked. “So she’s really a dominatrix?”

Vicki smiled, ran her tongue across her teeth, and nodded.

“That could have been years ago,” I said. “How did you know it was current?”

“I took a chance,” she said. “With the cheetah thing and all, I figured it was a good guess.”

“Damn,” I said. “Well, that’s some good instinct there, Park.”

“I’d like to think so,” she said.

As we drove back to the office, I unpacked what we had actually learned from the interview with Judith.

“We have a witness testifying that Julianna exited the building and met a man in a blue Prius,” I said. I checked my phone, and the text from AJ had come in.

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