Angel Food and Devil Dogs (14 page)

She was listening to me intently. We were sitting fairly close. The air was clear and crisp. I could smell a hint of, I guessed Chanel. I should do a study on the scents of perfume. It would be impressively Sherlock Holmesian if I could tell exactly what perfume still wafted at a crime scene. It could also be impressive to women I might want to date. It had been a very long time since I'd had a date. It had been even longer since I'd been this fascinated by anyone. Be a detective, I said to myself, find out if she's a lesbian. That's the task for the evening. If she isn't, then at least you can stop wasting your imagination. Yeah, I said to myself, find out if she's gay and then if she is... set a date to see her again. This was good, I'm task oriented. Now I had goals.

"I just have to ask you one more thing," she said, "are there a lot of suspects?"

"Sometimes, I've had cases with no leads at all and it's hard even to find anything to investigate. This is not one of those cases. There are plenty of suspects," I admitted.

"Do you think I'm a suspect?" she asked curiously.

"Oh my... should I?" I asked smiling.

"Shouldn't you? Trust no one..." she said in a Mata Hari accent and then smiled back.

"See, you must have been a Nancy Drew fan to say something like that! Or maybe Hercule? To answer your question, I think you have a pretty good alibi. Being in Seattle during the first death and in a limo on the way to Harrisburg during the explosion..."

"So you've already investigated me? I
was
a suspect, before?" she asked wryly.

"Trust no one," I replied in a deep voice.

A half smile appeared, as though she was about to say something very provocative. It made her face even more intriguing. She said, "Well, for what it's worth, I didn't do it."

"Good, that narrows it down. You have just made my job twelve and a half percent easier."

"I still might have important information though. Don't you want to
interrogate
me?"

She'd made it sound so suggestive that I was barely able to steady my voice when I answered, "Is that something you'd like me to do? What do you imagine it would be like?"

She raised her eyebrows a little, paused and then answered in a deep tone, "I'd bet you'd be very good at it. I'm sure you'd know exactly the right things to do, to encourage someone to respond... in a satisfying way. Tell me how you... do it."

Maggie, I thought to myself, I believe this woman is flirting with you. I smiled back, inclined my head a little and continued the game, "Some investigators have a deep and pressing need to work very quickly and sometimes that can be... exciting... but I feel the best way is to go very slowly and explore every avenue... seeing to every detail... meeting every need... for the entire experience to be... intensely gratifying for everyone involved," I said in a low voice.

"So you like to take your time? Pay attention to all the nuances? Were you best at being the good cop, or the bad cop?" she whispered into the still night.

I answered slowly, "I can be very good, but I'm better when I'm bad..."

We were staring into each other's eyes. She tipped her chin down a bit but still kept eye contact. She made a humming noise. Very sexy, like a soft anticipatory growl.

After quite a long moment I said, "It's gotten quite a bit warmer out here hasn't it?"

She laughed deep in her throat. Then she shook herself a little.

"What made you go into law enforcement?" Kathryn asked using a much less sensual tone. She'd taken charge of setting the direction of the conversation. The game was over... for now anyway.

"I didn't start out with that in mind. I decided to apply for the police force because someone I knew needed the help of the police and what they got was inadequate. I wanted to fix that, which was idealistic and naive, but I did get a lot of experience. I'm glad I'm on my own now, but I don't regret my years on the force. However..." I said, "this is still too much like talking about work, let's talk about something else."

"How about if I ask you this, do you know any people who work at Irwin?"

"Sure, Farrel Case is my closest friend, she teaches woodworking and furniture design. Um... Charles Majors in the Art History Department, he's a good friend too..." I mentioned some others, then thought for a moment, "and Judith Levi, she's retired now but she was an English Professor. Then there are all those people who teach there and live in the Mews. I didn't know Amanda Knightbridge directs the Art History Department until yesterday, but I've been saying hello to her in the Mews for years."

Kathryn was looking at me with full concentration. She said purposefully, "I've heard you knew Susan Fuller when she was here for the exchange program with the Slade?"

"Yes, I knew Susan then. That was several years ago, I was still a cop." I didn't add that I'd had a torrid affair with Susan Fuller. It'd been full of hot scene playing sex that featured her fascination with my handcuffs. It went on non-stop for five days, then ended because she had to go back to England. Fun while it lasted, something to think about erotically, but not the kind of thing to build a future on.

"Do you know her?" I asked innocently.

"We've never met, I've read her books... Is she a lesbian?"

Huh, that was direct
.
Well, Susan isn't closeted; she speaks about being a lesbian in her lectures and on her web site. So I certainly wasn't betraying a confidence by saying, "Yes she is."

Kathryn Anthony paused a beat, and then she asked, "Are you?"

"Yes, I am. Are you?"

"Yes," she said slowly, and there was that sexy half smile again.

Hey, how about that, I congratulated myself, am I some detective or what!?! Of course I had to admit that I didn't have to do a lot of tricky ferreting to deduce the lesbian thing. Maybe I should just pose yes or no questions all the time... I could just ask suspects, "So, did you embezzle the funds?" Or, "Did you bomb the conference room?" And maybe they'd just answer, yes. Think of the time I could save! Perhaps I've been going about this private eye stuff all wrong.

Anyway, I checked off number one on my list of tasks for the evening. I was pleased with myself and damn pleased with her answer. Now for the second task... arrange to see her again. But maybe first I should be sure she isn't already involved with somebody. That would be a bummer. She'd been pretty darn direct in the last round. I figured I could serve the next volley.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No," she said simply, she turned and looked up at the moon. "Even though I've been part of Irwin's faculty for years, I've traveled so much that I really don't know many people here in Fenchester." She turned back to me. "How about you?"

Back into my court! She might be better at this than I am. I still couldn't tell yet if she was interested or just had a very direct, provocative manner. Maybe she flirted with everyone. Maybe she was just nosy. Can't blame her for that, God knows I'm a snoop.

"No, I'm not seeing anyone." I looked steadily back into her dark blue eyes, in this light; it was impossible to see any separation between her irises and pupils. It was stirring and also a bit disconcerting. After a moment she turned and looked out over the Mews again. The light from the moon illuminated her face, highlighting her cheekbones. Have I mentioned I'm a sucker for cheekbones?

"But you have lots of friends here..." she said still looking at the Mews, "so, what do you do for fun?"

"That's a complex question," I said with amusement. "Fun is relative. Right now I've been working with friends to rehab my living space. I make art. I volunteer in the summer at the Latino Community Center, teaching kids crafts. As far as entertainment goes I like the standard things, including an occasional walk in the moonlight, although they're fairly rare... putting it that way my life sounds pretty dull, except the moonlight walks part."

"I don't think it sounds dull, I'm glad you didn't say watching Monday Night Football."

"I hate football, I'm not much into organized sports," I laughed. "Do you think they'll make me turn in my dyke card?"

"I hope not, then I'd have to, too." She shifted gears again, "Were you
out
at work?"

"Very. I did pro-gay activism in the union and on the force and it got a lot of press. It was needed at the time and is probably why I don't work there any more. One of the reasons anyway. It's a long, somewhat unpleasant story. Doesn't suit this atmosphere. Let's just say that I'm out as I can be and proud of it. How out are you? "

She sighed, "I've done political work... and I edited a book about lesbian artists. I was the advisor for a university gay/straight alliance. I've served on the Governor's committee for higher education as a representative of the gay community and..." she paused to think, "oh and I've been in public forum discussions on same-sex marriage that were televised in Pennsylvania and New York... and in California too. I figured as a tenured professor with a fairly understanding family, if I can't be an out advocate, then how could I expect anyone else to be one?" She was speaking passionately. I admired that kind of attitude, which made me glad the subject had come up. I certainly could never have much respect for someone who was closeted. She seemed to feel the same way. The passion brought a glint to her eye that was seductive all by itself.

"Has it ever been a problem for you, being so out?" I asked recalling the harassment I'd received from some of my
brothers in blue
when I was on the force.

She nodded, "Sure, when I was on television debating in favor of gay/straight student alliances, I got a dandy series of hate mail and I got death threats after a same-sex marriage panel."

"Did they catch the perp? As we say in the business..."

"They didn't even bother to look," she said sardonically.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"It was something I chose to do. Frankly, I don't respond well to threats, they made me double my efforts."

"So I guess I don't have to ask whether you're out to all your friends?"

"Seems to be a given for both of us," she said as I nodded affirmation. "It's a shame but, I actually know some gay people even today who are closeted to people they consider their closest friends. I know this one lesbian who spends most of her time with another woman who is so homophobic that she spews vitriolic anti-gay hate language constantly."

"Uh huh, and the punchline: They're secretly in love with each other and the stress and frustration of that has made them bitter bigots instead of a happy family of loving partners," I said.

"And they both teach at a women's college!"

"You're kidding, is it a religious college?"

"No, no, it's actually a fairly liberal school..." she said in exasperation, shaking her head.

"Internalized homophobia..." I shot back.

"Yes, exactly," she said in rapid acknowledgment.

We both paused. I smiled saying, "You know one of the great things about being a lesbian is that you get to argue with people you agree with."

"The trouble is, not everyone agrees. I'm afraid I have a tendency, when I feel I'm right, to expect everyone else to see it my way."

"You're stubborn about it?"

"Well sure, but I'd change my mind if I'm presented with good evidence to the contrary," she insisted.

"Does anyone ever come up with that?" I teased.

"Yes... well, sometimes," she said with amusement, "maybe."

"You're a Taurus aren't you," I don't usually dwell on astrology stuff, but this was a revelation that hit me like divine prophecy.

She just smiled in response.

"No, come on, it's true isn't it? When's your birthday?"

"April 29th," she admitted.

"Ah ha, said the detective!"

"Am I that stubborn?"

"There's nothing wrong with standing by your convictions."

We both took a moment to look out again over the Mews. The moon was higher above the horizon. The moon shadows had shortened. It was very beautiful, an uncommon scene in a place we both saw every day.

I turned back to her and asked, "What was your major in college?"

"American Literature."

"Recite something for me."

"Hm?"

"Recite a poem or something that speaks to the stars, or the moon, or this snow covered scene."

"You want me to perform?" she asked in mock incredulity.

"Sure, show me you got your money's worth from your undergraduate education. Memorized poetry was made for special moments like this, don't you think?" I asked gently.

"Um..." she hesitated.

"I'm sure you can do it. Where did you go for your Bachelor's?" I asked.

She paused as if embarrassed... "Smith."

"Oh well, now you have to do it, and you have to choose a New England poet," I challenged.

"OK I'll play, but since you brought it up, I think you should go first. Where did you go to college?"

"I went to The Baltimore University for the Arts for my BFA, and Midwestern Institute of Art and Technology for my MFA and I don't mind going first..."

She was clearly surprised. She'd almost done a double take. In the world of fine art academia both those schools were at the top of the pack. She was impressed and fueled up to spar. A hint of competitive spirit came into her eyes. I'd said the right thing, but I also knew that this evening was going to have to come to an end soon. For one thing, it was getting really cold again.

"All right... um, something to the snow then?" Looking out over the wide expanse of white, I recited:

"Who shall declare the joy of the running!

Who shall tell of the pleasures of flight!

Springing and spurning the tufts of white heather,

Sweeping, wide-winged, through the blue dome of night.

Everything mortal has moments immortal,

Shift and God-gifted, immeasurably bright.

∞ ∞ ∞

So with the stretch of the white road before me,

Shining snow crystals rainbowed by the sun,

Fields that are white, stained with long, cool, blue shadows,

Strong with the strength of my horse as we run.