Kristin Ashe: Disorderly Attachments Part 20

"I didn't know Fran had such an avian interest," I said, unable to conceal a smile.

Fran persisted in avoiding my gaze. "Just learning about the critters.

"We'll make it happen," Tess said confidently. "Did Fran tell you we're going on a big-game safari next summer?"

"No, she didn't," I said perkily, enjoying Fran's discomfort.

"Photographs only. No killing."

"That's what you think," Tess said, aiming at Fran, her fingers coiled in the shape of a gun.

And so it went for the next hour.

It turned out there was quite a lot Fran hadn't told me, and for good reason. I would have laughed at half and cried about the rest.

Fortunately, the happy couple had an appointment at a mountaineering shop, to outfit Fran with a climbing rigger, and they departed in a rush, leaving behind a faint trace of Tess's body odor.

I'd barely had a chance to clear my desk, or the air, when the door opened again.

"Hey, stranger," Roberta Franklin said, entering with a friendly wave. She was dressed in pointy-toed cowboy boots, a snap-b.u.t.ton, shimmery white Western shirt, a black suede vest with fringe and tight blue jeans. Large gold hoop earrings dangled below a tan Stetson.

I cast a frantic glance out the window. "You just missed Fran."

"I was hoping to catch you alone. Is this a convenient time?"

"Sure," I said, gesturing for her to take a seat at Fran's desk. "I'm making progress on the case, but-"

"We'll get to that in a minute. I have something of a more personal nature I'd like to discuss." Roberta paused and crossed and uncrossed her legs.

I gulped. "Okay."

She said eventually, "If I don't broach the subject now, I'll lose what little courage I've mustered. If you don't mind..."

"Jump in," I said, disturbed that her left eye had begun to twitch in the deep recesses of her wrinkles.

She cleared her throat. "It's about Frances."

I tried to suppress a groan by converting it to a cough, but the leak didn't escape Roberta's notice.

It's not my intention to put you on the spot, but would you happen to know if Frances is available for courting?"

I took a deep breath and doled out the exhale. "Define available." Has her relationship with Ruth concluded?"

"Months ago."

"Has she taken up residence with another woman?"

"No."

"Or pledged her love?"

I looked away for a split second. "Not that I'm aware of."

"Is she seeing someone?"

I started to bite my nails. "You really should be asking Fran these questions."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," Roberta said with obvious regret. "Fifty years of interviewing witnesses has taught me a thing or two about admission and omission. I appreciate your candor."

"Don't give up," I said hesitantly. "It's a dynamic situation."

She cast an appraising glance. "Are you implying that Frances would be receptive to an overture?"

I shrugged. "You never know unless you try."

She chuckled. "I can see I've met my match in wordplay. Has Frances said something about me?"

I answered with a sly smile. "Perhaps."

"Something complimentary?"

"Always."

Roberta straightened her bent back. "Does she find me attractive?"

"You'd have to ask her that."

"I've hesitated to take this step for fear of compromising our professional relationship."

"That shouldn't be a problem. Fran's busy with another case, and I'm in charge of yours."

"It's settled then."

I felt the block of ham sandwich and potato cakes harden in my belly. "I guess so."

"You wouldn't intentionally direct me down a path of certain peril and questionable reward, would you?"

"Define peril and reward," I kidded.

Roberta reached forward and squeezed my hand. "You're a stinker. Let's talk about a few ghosts, shall we?"

I'd worried needlessly about Roberta Franklin's reaction to hiring Ca.s.sandra Antonopolus, the paranormal investigator. That hardly fazed her. In fact, she welcomed the feedback as a means to break the stalemate brought on by the disparate opinions of Nell Schwartz, Hazel Middleton and Elvira Robinson. Roberta promised she'd maintain an open mind in regard to any data that Fran, Flax, Ca.s.s and I could gather from our night at the Fielder mansion.

In all, she seemed heartened by the progress on the case, until I updated her on Philip Bazi.

When I recounted his antics-from his thinly veiled threat of workplace sabotage to his relentless pursuit of Hazel Middleton- Roberta Franklin went into a tizzy.

She sputtered, cursed and left in a huff, vowing to take care of "that rapacious developer."

Chapter 18.

That evening, I came home to find Destiny lying on the couch, an ice pack on her head.

Before I could ask about her day, she looked at me with dead eyes and said, "Sometimes, Kris, I really hate my job."

I knelt on the floor beside her. "Cheer up! It's Friday, the beginning of the weekend."

"What difference does that make? I have to work all weekend."

"You're just tired. You're working all the time. You'll feel better after you've rested."

"When am I supposed rest?" she said, dejected. "When will the world stop a.s.saulting, insulting and abusing lesbians so I can take a break?

"Not this month," I said with a sympathetic smile. "What happened?"

"Nothing and everything." Destiny threw the ice pack to the floor and sat up. "I'm sick of Carolyn O'Keefe. She's all talk and no action. She feels no sense of urgency to implement anything, and we keep talking about the same issues and ideas, in circles."

I joined Destiny on the couch. "Could you table the youth programs, at least until your donation-matching period expires?"

"No!" Destiny said, scaring me with her vehemence. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"I want to help girls in high school, that's all I care about."

"What about your other causes? You were adamant about gay marriage last month."

"Screw gay marriage."

"Since when?"

"Since I realized that we're going about this all wrong. Instead of fighting for the privilege of having heteros.e.xuals recognize our love, let's take away their rights. Let's refuse to acknowledge any bond exists. Let's allow them to live together for thirty years, buy houses, wash dishes, bear children, share money, bury parents, have s.e.x, and let's pretend they aren't coupled."

"Destiny," I said gently.

"Let's not let them into our families. Let's introduce them as Jane and 'her friend Jim' after fifteen f.u.c.king years. Let's not honor their relationships. Let them break up, and we'll deny the devastation of their divorce, because we never accepted their marriage. Let's do that instead of pushing for some county clerk to issue a piece of paper a legislative body will later declare invalid."

"You know what this is really about, don't you?"

"What?" she muttered.

"The whole issue boils down to weekends in June."

She looked at me as if I were crazy.

Straight brides don't want us competing with them for prime wedding dates," I said, poking her in the side.

Destiny didn't crack a smile. "This isn't funny, Kris." Okay." I sighed. "You want to take a break from the gay marriage "sue for a while?"

You could say that," she said snidely.

"What about your ideas for the next Coming Out Day, the 'We Exist' slogan?"

"I'm over that, too. So what if there are one or two gay people in every extended family, hundreds in a neighborhood, thousands in a city, tens of thousands in a state, millions across the U.S., tens of millions worldwide? I'm supposed to send out a press release declaring that we perverts pay taxes and obey laws and volunteer in our communities? That we start small businesses and perform heroic acts and vote and show up for work every day? That we mentor children and look in on seniors and give birth and save lives and follow spiritual paths? And, yes, that we dare to live with, make love with and devote our lives to women? You want me to do that?"

I shrugged, at a loss for what might decrease, or at least not increase, her wrath.

"Forget it," she snapped. "I don't want to educate the public, Kris. That no longer interests me. I want to help one girl, in one high school."

"All right."

Her voice broke. "You have no idea what high school was like for me, do you?"

"How could I? You never talk about it."

"I lost every friend I had."

"I didn't know," I said quietly.

"One day, I was popular and well-liked. The next day, I was invisible."

"How did they find out you were gay?"

"I told them. All of them, each time hoping for a positive reaction. I was foolish enough to believe my friends would be happy for me when they heard that I'd met someone and that we were dating and falling in love."

"You were?" I said, unable to hide my surprise at hearing this for the first time. I'd a.s.sumed Destiny's first love had been a woman she'd met her soph.o.m.ore year in college, although she'd never said that exactly. "Who was she?"

"Raja Schuler. I met her in calculus. She was a foreign exchange student from Germany. After the rumors about us circulated, I could have withstood the isolation. I know I could have, but they crushed her."

"You were her first girlfriend?"

"And last. After she realized the consequences, she reacted by changing her s.e.xuality, a luxury I never had. She started sleeping with every guy she met, including one who took her to the prom."

"I'm sorry," I said, reaching for Destiny. She let me clasp her hand but didn't return the squeeze.

"Last I heard, she was living in Berlin with two kids, a sheepdog and a husband who knows nothing about 'our adolescent fling,' as she labeled it.