“Of course.” Ben straightened in his chair. “What do you need?”
Griffin removed a notebook from the pocket of his shirt and clicked a pen. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“Last night,” Ben replied. “Not long after dinner. We’re all here early to set up for the convention, make sure everything is absolutely perfect, so it was just the three of us.”
“We’ve known each other a very long time,” Blair volunteered. “We all keep in touch even when there’s not a convention to plan.”
“How often do you host these conventions?”
“Once a year.”
“Is the location always the same?”
“No, we jump around.” Blair hesitated and then held out her hand. “Some people aren’t always comfortable with our lifestyle. We’ve found it’s best to never visit the same place twice. Some locations are extremely welcoming — New Orleans, for example, was wonderful — but others are less than hospitable.”
“I see.” Griffin exhaled heavily, as if debating, and then pushed forward. “I need a bit of information on the conventions. What exactly do they entail?”
Rather than be offended by the question, Blair shot him an amused look. “I assume you’re not familiar with our lifestyle?”
“Honestly, I hadn’t even heard of it until about twenty minutes ago. I don’t care what you do on your personal time. However, if Mr. Thorpe was murdered ... .”
“You need to know if our lifestyle had something to do with it,” Ben finished. “I understand. But I don’t see how the convention could have anything to do with what happened to him.”
“If it was an accident, it’s likely that the convention had zero to do with it,” Griffin acknowledged. “However, if it was something more ... . The majority of homicides are carried out by people who knew the victim.”
“And we’re the only people who fit that bill right now,” Blair mused.
“Not necessarily,” Griffin cautioned. “I imagine other people who attend your conventions are familiar with Thorpe.”
“It’s not a very large community,” Ben said. “We are family, though. You have to understand that most people look at us as freaks ... or something to laugh at. We’re insulated and close to one another.”
“That doesn’t mean everybody has pure motives,” Griffin countered. “One bad egg can ruin it for everybody. Is it possible some members of your convention came into town last night and stayed at different hotels?”
Ben hesitated and then nodded.
“Then there’s a possibility that it was a convention attendee who came onto the island after you separated from Grayson. Of course, it’s also possible that Mr. Thorpe purposely entered the water. Did he seem suicidal to you?”
“Absolutely not.” Ben vehemently shook his head. “No way. Grayson loved life. He was a gregarious guy and absolutely loved life. He wouldn’t have killed himself.”
“Okay.” Griffin opted not to dwell on that possibility. “Was he a drinker?”
“No,” Ben answered.
Blair, however, hesitated.
“Ms. Crawford?” Griffin prodded.
“He liked a good cocktail,” she said finally, shooting an apologetic look toward Ben. “We all do. These conventions are a way for us to cut loose. We have a good time for an extended weekend and then go back to our regular lives. I’m not ashamed to say that we party a bit when we’re all together.
“Grayson certainly wasn’t an alcoholic,” she continued. “He didn’t have a problem.”
Griffin pressed forward. “Do you think there’s a possibility he had too much to drink last evening and decided to check out the yacht club?”
“I wouldn’t think so — Grayson never expressed much interest in boats — but I guess I can’t rule it out,” she replied.
“Okay, well, we’ll know more once I get the medical examiner’s report,” Griffin said. “I need a breakdown of what you will be doing during the convention.”
I pressed my lips together. I couldn’t decide if I was more amused by Griffin’s obvious discomfort or the bemused expressions on the event organizers’ faces.
“What is it you want to know?” Ben asked calmly.
“What do you plan to do here?”
“Hang out mostly.” Ben couldn’t quite swallow his sigh. “I think it would be easiest if I give you a brief overview of the lifestyle.”
“Great.” Griffin kept his expression blank, but I could tell he was worried about what he might hear.
“The furry movement started in the 1970s and essentially sprang from a very explicit genre of comic books,” he started. “The comic books were construed by some as sexual in nature.”
Griffin rubbed the spot between his eyebrows and nodded. “Sure. A lot of comics are sexual in nature.”
“They are,” Ben agreed. “In this particular case, as the movement expanded, the sexual nature of the comics was expressed through animals with human characteristics. This would be different from humans with animal characteristics.”
Even I was intrigued now. “What’s the difference?”
Ben shot me a small smile. “Humans with animal characteristics would be akin to Catwoman, or the Penguin in Batman. They’re still human, but sometimes fueled by the animal inside. From our perspective, we’re interested in the animal that has several human characteristics.”
“You’re not talking about that movie Cats, are you?” Griffin demanded. “My wife made me watch that and it was the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I didn’t realize until after the fact that she was just trying to mess with me.”
Ben chuckled. “The Cats musical is actually supposed to be cats, so ... no. Or well, maybe. That is hard to pin down. Watership Down is a furry book in some circles, and Disney’s Robin Hood would be considered a furry cartoon. Depending on who you believe, the term ‘furry’ originated at a science fiction convention in 1980. The hows and whys aren’t important. Within three years the term had begun to gain prevalence and hit the mainstream.”
“I don’t know how mainstream it is,” Griffin countered. “I’d never heard it until today.”
“You had, though?” Ben asked me.
I nodded. “I grew up in New Orleans. People are more open there.”
Blair looked horrified. “You were in New Orleans and somehow ended up here? I’m so sorry.”
I had to fight the urge to smile. “I like it here. I live on the island, and I have come to appreciate what Detroit has to offer.”
“Yes, but New Orleans has culture.”
“So does Detroit,” I said. “If you dig deep.”
“Really deep,” Griffin added. “When did the conventions start?”
“That would’ve been 1989,” Ben replied. “The movement had grown so much in ten years that there was significant interest. The first one was called Confurence 0 — that’s F-U-R in the middle there — and was held in Costa Mesa, California.”
“We saw our strongest growth once the internet became a part of our daily lives,” Blair explained. “It made connecting with like-minded individuals so much easier.”