Family Affairs of Adult Children

A Bo Fexler Short Story

By Clair Dickson

Francis Thayer Whittacker was almost ninety-three years old. She had been all but bedridden for the past nine years, staying in her second floor bedroom with books and TV to pass the time. It was her youngest son, the seventy-three year old Edward Whittacker, who met me at the door before I was finished with my smoke.

I was less than a third of Francis's age and currently self-employed as a private eye. It's not for the glamour or the money, so I can only conclude that it's because I'm a sucker for a good puzzle. The story I got from Ed when he called was that Francis thought she had seen something out the window and wanted to know who and what.

As Ed held the front door open for both me and a swirl of cold air, he breezily instructed, "Just humor her."

I grunted with less commitment than a Hollywood celebutante. Without any wasted words, Ed led me up the broadly curving staircase. Detail from an era, merely a hundred years ago, but nearly forgotten. Not unlike the old woman at the top of the stairs.

I pushed my blond hair behind my shoulders and allowed Ed to usher me in the room. My sneakers didn't make nearly as much noise on the hardwood floors as his mostly-shined dress shoes.

The introduction was brief, then Ed's shoes clopped down the stairs, as if they didn't quiet fit on his thin frame. The front door opened and shut again. That was it. Well, aside from the cash that Ed had pressed into my hand before parting. A thousand dollar retainer. A nice start.

From her wheelchair, Francis looked wordlessly at me, her wrinkly jaw set firm. She reminded me of a tortoise. A look completed by the dowager's hump under a mottled green sweater.

"So. You're Bo Fexler. What's wrong with parents that they give their precious daughters boy's names?"

"Like Ashley, Stacey, and Kelly?"

I'd thought she might have appreciated my knowledge of history. Instead she pointedly added, "And Bo."

I smiled faintly, sadly. My name fits me rather like a box that, once the sides are torn open, finally accommodates what's been stuffed into it. "So. Tell me what I'm here for."

"I'll keep this short and to the point. I saw two people out the side window. They had an argument that escalated into a physical altercation. Then, the man left. I had called for my granddaughter, Evelina. I was concerned about the young woman because she didn't get up. Evelina, however, wasn't home. After I called for her a few times, my caregiver, Miss Toni Geller, responded. I sent her outside, but there was no one around. The woman had already gotten up and left. Miss Geller didn't hear anything, either. And she reminded me that Evelina was out with friends.

"Evelina is about your age. She's staying with me while she attends college at the University of Findlay . She took a while to find her direction. Her parents live in Indianapolis ." Francis wet her lips at the end of the story. Then she accused, "You don't believe I saw anything, do you?"

"I haven't decided that yet."

"Ed told you to humor me, didn't he? He thinks this is a joke. They all think this is a joke."

"The part I don't get is why you wanted to hire a private investigator. This is an altercation between two people who have no relation to you. Why do you care?"

Francis was quiet. "I think there's something going on. Something that the kids are hiding from me."

"Go on."

"I think it has to do with Miss Geller. I think they're protecting her. From me."

"From getting fired?"

"Possibly. Or worse."

"You really don't like her."

Francis shook her head. "No. I wasn't the one who decided to hire her."

"Who was?"

"Ed."

"Ed's pretty involved in your affairs?"

"Yes. He thinks that at my age, I can't manage things myself."

"Whose idea was it to call me?"

"Mine."

"But Ed made the call."

"Yes. What did he tell you?"

"Just that you wanted me to investigate who was outside your window the other night."

"Nothing else? No extra instructions on how to deal with me?"

"He told me to humor you," I reported evenly.

"Hmph."

"For forty bucks an hour, I have a good sense of humor. What can you tell me about the two people you saw?"

"Not much. It was dark. The man was wearing a puffy coat, like you'd see with a sports team on it. Except it was just dark, no logo. He had skinny legs, though," she recalled. "The woman, she wore a thin coat and her hair was in a ponytail."

"They were along the tree line, right?"

"That's what I said."

"Indeed." I stood and looked out the window. There was a small table wedged between the wall and the easy chair. The chair looked out of place, as did the small table. I glanced around the room, noticing other awkward placements of furniture, by the bed and small TV set.

"You don't usually sit over by that window, do you?" I asked, pointing to the east facing one.

"Sometimes. I can watch the world go by. I can't much be a part of it anymore."

"Not that you would, anyway," I countered, my mouth moving a step ahead of my brain.

"You ought to be a shamed of yourself, making a claim like that!"

"How often do you get out of the house?"

"I don't see what this has to do with the investigation."

"Nothing. I just noticed that there's no wheelchair ramp. You seem a sharp enough woman, in spite of your age. You could go out. I suspect you don't want to. And I suspect that it's because you hate the world."

"Your parents ought to be ashamed of you. You are rude and disrespectful."

"Granted. You don't have to keep me in your employ," I added. I don't know why I said it. Unchecked insolence. I may be getting a handle on the PI trade, but not on my mouth.

Francis looked hard at me with an unwavering glower. "Are your investigative skills any better than your social skills?" she asked.

I had totally expected her to fire me. I answered slowly, picking the words carefully, "I have . . . a solid record of satisfactorily completed cases. In spite of my people skills."

Francis might have smiled. Or she might have just been tensing the muscles in her jaw. "You are right, though. I don't particularly care to go out."

"Where do you usually sit?"

"By the TV. I don't read much anymore since my eyesight is failing. It's hard to make out the small print. So, I watch TV."

"Something drew your attention to the window that evening."

"Yes."

I waited.

Francis watched me, waiting to see what I would say next. The clock on the wall quietly marked the passage of seconds. "The argument. I heard the voices and went to see what was going on. There wasn't anything particularly interesting on TV."

"Otherwise you might not have?"

"It was a lot of effort to push myself into the space there so I could see out the window."

"Did either of the people look like Toni, Evelina, or even Ed?"

Francis shook her head. "I didn't recognize them. But they were along the trees there. And it was dark. It could have been one of them."

"Where were Toni, Ed and Evelina at the time?"

"Evelina had gone out with some friends. And Ed was at home with his wife. Miss Geller was . . . indisposed."

"Indisposed as in using the restroom?" I clarified. Francis nodded. "When did Evelina get home?"

"I don't know. I didn't hear her come in."

"Normally you would?"

"Yes."

"Did you talk to Evelina about it?"

"I told her what happened."

"When did Toni leave for the night?"

"After she had put me to bed. I believe she was here perhaps a half hour to forty five minutes beyond that to clean up. It's one of her duties in the evening. I heard her downstairs, then I heard her leave."

"This was before or after Evelina came home?"

"I don't know when Evelina came home."

"So, she came home after you went to sleep?"

"Must have."

I really, really wanted a cigarette. And I had run out of questions for the time being. "Well, I'll get started on this. See what I can find out."

"Thank you, Miss Fexler."

"I'll come by tomorrow, about eight or nine and look around outside. I'll ask around the neighborhood to see who's seeing who and who might have been out."

With that as my departure notice, I took up my coat from where I'd draped it over a chair back and padded down the stairs. As I was stepping off the last stair to the foyer floor a tall woman about my age with dark hair moved into the space like an unhappy glacier. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her mouth pulled into a frown.

"Evelina?" I asked, not wasting any extra cordiality.

"You must be the dirty little private eye," she replied.

"With a couple questions for you."

"I don't have anything to say to you. Except this: stay the hell away from me. And my family."

"Well, shit. With a warning like that, I could just trot back upstairs and tell Francis that I know who's behind it all," I laughed cruelly.

I didn't expect the blow– an open palmed hit to my sternum. I stumbled back a step until I hit the banister. My breath caught on the pain. I grunted and coughed. Then, Evelina smacked me on the side of the face.

Recovered finally, I balled my hand into a tight fist and punched her in the face. She let out a small cry, then backed away. "You hit me!"

"Yeah. Imagine that. I'll conduct this investigation so long as my client continues it. You won't stop me– not with a few smacks. And believe me, right now, my investigation is going to be ALL in your affairs." I stepped around Evelina and out the unnecessarily large pair of front doors.

Outside was warmer than Evelina. The ground was frozen solid and grass crunched under my feet. I paused a trio of steps away from the house to light up and puff on the craved cigarette. I have concluded from personal experience, that smokers are some of the most foolish people. Too willing to stand out in all sorts of inclement weather to suck in carcinogens. A friend of mine used to say it was our way of taunting fate—then he quit smoking. Yeah, he sure showed fate.

The next morning, I returned to the Whittacker house a little before eight. The sun would have just been over the horizon if low gray clouds didn't obscure the sky. A thin group of trees ran the length of the yard, which was considerable. In these winter months, it wasn't hard to see the house on the other side. None of the trees were very big or very tall. I walked back and forth several times, looking for anything that could evenly possibly or remotely identified as being some sort of evidence related to my investigation.

There are people whose entire career consists of studying the ground for footprints, scuff marks, and unusual patterns of plant growth. While they might have been the life of any party, I found it an often unrewarding task. Even when getting paid by the hour.

Then, just before I turned away to head inside, something caught my eye. It glinted dully in the brown leaves and I bent to see what it was. A small gold piece. Not a locket, but a charm, likely from a bracelet with others of its ilk.

I bit it, letting it warm with the heat from my breath before I tried to bend it. It gave slightly. Real gold, I'd bet. A nice piece of jewelry. I tucked it into my pocket and searched a little farther. I didn't find anything else.

It was time to start bothering the neighbors.

The first person I visit on declined to speak with me. They reinforced their answer with a firmly shut door. The second door opened, but we stood on the porch for the brief discussion. The woman had heard the argument Tuesday night. She was certain that it was two women, though one of their voices was deeper. Like mine. But she couldn't offer anything as to who the women might have been. She didn't really talk to her neighbors.

The third neighbor was working in his garage with the door open when I approached. I introduced myself and requested to speak with him.

"Sure. Al Carruthers. What can I help you with?"

"I'm trying to find out about something that happened Tuesday night."

"Tuesday night?" he asked, though his tone suggested he already had some thoughts on that evening. The raised eyebrows matched the other looks people give when they learn the pretty blond is a detective, not a Playmate.

"Yes. Apparently there was a squabble that evening. Occurred near the Whittacker house."

"Yeah. I remember that. I was taking the trash to the road. Saw the two ladies walking together down the road, arguing about something."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I don't remember what it was, but one of 'em was really upset about it. I remember that."

"You remember what they look like?"

"One had a big, puffy coat on. The other girl had her hair pulled back. Maybe in a ponytail." He narrowed his eyes as if that would some how help him remember. "I know the one with the big coat was real tall. Like you are."

"Anything else?"

He shook his head. "I didn't think much of it. At the time."

"Do you think more of it now?" I asked, though the words didn't quite get at what I was trying to ask.

"Yeah. Well, I was talking with one of the other neighbors, Leslie. Leslie Grayton. Ran into her at the party store on the corner last night. I knew her daughter had been back in town for a few days, something to do with taking time off from school? I don't know exactly, but I asked her about Amy. That's her daughter. Leslie told me that Amy had left all the sudden that afternoon. Now, Amy's one of those dramatic girls. Everything is a big deal. I asked why, and Leslie made some comment about how Amy had been having trouble with girlfriends. I'm not sure what that meant, and I didn't really ask, you know. I didn't know, for sure know, I mean, that Amy was . . . lesbian."

"Sorry. I'm blond– tell me how this connects with the fight the other day?"

He chuckled at my supposed self-deprecation. "Just wonder if Amy was one of the girls. Maybe it was a lover's quarrel. It could have been Amy. She had kind of brown hair, like Amy's. I don't know exactly what color the girl's hair was, since it was night. The moon was out, but that didn't help much."

"And you didn't really pay that much attention to it."

"Right."

"What about the other– could it have been Evelina Whittacker?"

"Yeah. Could have been. Only, I don't think it would be. Everyone knows Mrs. Whittacker doesn't care much for that lifestyle."

I thanked him and lit up a smoke while I walked back to the Whittacker house. I was cold and hungry. Miss Toni Geller let me in, then retreated before I could ask her anything. I could have pursued, but I took the stairs by two's and knocked once on the bedroom door even as I was pushing it open. Francis was sitting by the TV, her head bent slightly. For a moment, I wondered if she was still breathing—and if Ed would let me keep the thousand bucks. Finally, Francis swiveled her head towards me.

She'd make a damn good prop at a haunted house.

"What have you found?"

I summed up my talk with the neighbors and finished with the gold charm.

"I don't like what you're implying about Evelina," Francis replied.

"It's not an implication, it's an investigation. I'm only telling you what I've heard so far."

"I don't like your attitude. Your–"

"I know. I know. My parents should be ashamed of me." I heard the furnace come to life and moved to stand in front of the vent. "Do you know the Grayton's?"

"No. I've heard a few things, from the kids."

"And grandkids?"

"I include them when I say kids."

"I see."

"I knew that the Grayton's daughter decided to date women."

"Do you remember who you heard that from?"

Francis snorted. "No."

"I'll let you know what else I find out."

I padded down the stairs. I had two tasks in mind. One was to interrogate Toni Geller. The other was to snoop around and find out what I could on the family. I started with the photos lining the downstairs hallway. As I studied one of the photos, I noticed a gold bracelet around Evelina's wrist. It was a long shot– but perhaps it was a charm bracelet that happened to be missing a charm.

I found Toni in the kitchen, starting to prepare lunch. "Hey."

She looked up at me and blinked in surprise. "Hi. Did– did you need something?"

"I wanted to talk with you," I lowered my voice and offered a soft smile.

Toni nodded. "Okay. I should keep working, though. Mrs. Whittacker gets upset if things aren't done just right or on time."

"How long have you worked for her?"

"About a year and half. Almost two years."

"How did you get the position?"

Toni hesitated. "I heard about it from a friend of mine."

"Does this friend have a name?"

"You wouldn't know her."

"You might as well have just come out and said that you didn't want to tell me because it would somehow incriminate you. It's that obvious."

She flushed, then looked at the sandwich she was preparing. "I heard about the job from Evelina." The only sound was the knife clink against the mayonnaise jar, followed by the tink as Toni laid it onto the counter. She pressed the top slice of bread onto the sandwich with a soft scunch of the lettuce beneath. "I was out of work at the time. I'd been waitressing, but I'm not . . . I'm not very good at it. I didn't make much in tips. Evelina told me I could work for her grandmother, help take care of her. Since she was in her nineties. Ed and Evelina talked to me about it– I guess it was an interview. Then, Ed told me what he would pay and told me to come the next Monday."

"What days do you work?"

"I usually get Sundays and Mondays off."

"What kind of hours do you put in?"

"I start at eleven and stay until Mrs. Whittacker is in bed. That's usually between nine and ten."

"Long day."

"But the pay is good. And it's not hard work. Most of the time, I don't have much to do. I clean a little. And I'm just supposed to be around. So I get to watch TV, even talk on the phone. And get paid for it."

"So, where were you Tuesday night when Francis heard that argument?"

Toni looked down again. Then, she turned and started to return things to the refrigerator. At last she said, "I was in the bathroom."

"Hell of a bathroom break."

She just shrugged. There was a sullenness about her the tempted me.

"What time did you leave that evening?"

"Right after I helped Mrs. Whittacker into bed."

"And Evelina?"

"She was out for the evening," she said after an eye-blink length pause.

"With friends?"

"That's what I heard."

"On a Tuesday night."

"That's none of my business. Besides, she wasn't out late."

"What time did she get home?"

"About nine. Maybe nine thirty."

"What time did you leave?"

"Just before eleven."

"And the argument was . . . ?"

Something flickered across Toni's face. An expression I couldn't peg. "I'm not sure."

"Before or after Evelina got home?"

"Before. I think."

"I see. Do you know Amy Grayton?"

"Lives just a couple houses down. She's going to the University of Toledo . She comes home pretty often . . . she's one of those drama queens. Why?"

"Eh– it's just that I heard she left real quick Wednesday. Possibly something to do with that fight that Francis heard."

"So, then it really happened?"

"It did. I'm surprised you didn't hear it."

Toni shrugged. "I don't know."

Taking a seat at the kitchen island, I asked, "You okay? You seem worried. I'm sure this investigation is nothing."

"I'm . . . fine," Toni said simply.

"Relationship trouble?" I pressed. When people use fine—as opposed to good or derivatives thereof—they don't mean it.

Her gaze suddenly shifted focus to my face. Then, it slipped away. "Yeah. It's no big deal." She rubbed her neck and something about the motion lodged in the back of my brain. I tried almost frantically to figure out why, but the conversation needed to roll on. Forget photographic memory– I'd like camcorder memory so I can rewind and watch things again.

"Every relationship problem is a big deal. Trust me—I know about relationships."

"Do you know what it's like to be in a relationship that no one's allowed to know about?" she asked. "I didn't think so." She turned away.

But I had never answered. I would have said yes. For the sake of conversation. "It's not easy. What? Family would disapprove?"

"More than you can understand."

"You're going to break up, aren't you? Over this?"

She shook her head then said, "I don't know. Maybe. I don't want to hide it anymore. I'm tired of that. I didn't have to hide my last one."

"Well, it's not fair, really. Other people don't have to hide their lovers." I choose the words as carefully as one selects the best looking donuts.

"Not everyone thinks that way."

"Like your current lover."

She nodded.

"Who is it?"

"That is none of your business."

I realized that the only place I was going to get with her at that point was my favorite destination– Nowhere. The last thing I asked was, "Do you know when Evelina will be home today?"

"Probably late. She has class until eight."

"Thanks."

Outside, I lit up. Then, I looked up the Grayton's address. Shortly after that, I was driving up I-75 to Toledo to pay Amy Grayton a visit at college.

I found her in a crowded, cluttered dorm room. Amy had medium brown hair with yellow-gold highlights. She was about the same height and build as Toni. She hiked up her baggy pants before she sat on her bed, leaving me the desk chair.

"So, I'll get right to it. Why'd you leave home Wednesday?"

Amy smiled flickeringly. "You really do get right to the point. I left because I had an argument with Evelina Whittacker."

"About?"

"About her, mainly. We met at the bar that afternoon and were talking. She had too much to drink and was complaining about her horrible life. You wouldn't think she was the spoiled brat that she is if you'd listen to her talk. She was complaining about this professor that was failing her because she kept skipping class. We left the car and walked home. I wasn't in any state to drive, and Evelina was worse than I was. I usually walk to the bar, anyway. So we walked back home. And we kept arguing. I kept telling her how she was screwing up her life. She doesn't see it. And we really had it out when I told her she should just admit to her family that she's a lesbian."

"They don't know."

"I don't think so. She doesn't ever talk about dating. She just says she's going out with some friends. Girl friends. She doesn't say that it's her girlfriend."

"When did you head home?"

"Oh, probably around seven. No later than eight. I knew Evelina had class and figured she needed to dry out. She was going to be hung-over enough."

"What made the argument turn physical?"

"What?"

"Francis saw the argument from her window. She's not sure what happened, exactly, but she saw the struggle."

"From her window? As in, we were in her yard?"

"Yes."

"Never happened. Least, I never went in her yard. We walked along the street to the front of the house, then I walked back home. Now, I know Mrs. Whittacker doesn't care much for me. Because I'm a lesbian. But also because I've got tattoos and I talk back to my elders and that sort of thing. She thinks I'm a bad influence on Evelina."

"So, you never had a physical altercation in the lawn at the Whittacker's?"

"Nope. Must have been someone else."

I mulled this one over. "Any idea who?"

"I thought that's what the detective is supposed to figure out."

"The way I figure most of these things out is by asking the right questions of the right people."

"Look. I'm not stupid enough to cross Evelina Whittacker. Okay? Even if I did know who she's seeing right now, I wouldn't tell you. Real sorry, but I'm still on pretty good terms with her. And I'd rather not get her pissed."

"You think she might get back together with you?"

Amy grinned. "You think that's it? She's my friend. I've got a new girl now. One who's a little less volatile than Evelina. And one who doesn't mind being gay. I don't have to be 'friends' with my girl now."

I nodded. "You know Toni Geller?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

"She's one of Evelina's friends. And she got that position working at the Whittacker house. Taking care of Gramma Whittacker."

"You sound awful bitter about that."

"Evelina got her that job. And Toni, I guess, isn't as grateful as Evelina thinks she should be. I don't know. There's something about that whole thing that never seems right."

"But you don't know much about it."

"'Fraid not. That's your job," she ribbed.

"I guess so. Thank you for time." I gave her my card for later and my hand for a good bye shake.

When I got back to the Whittacker house, a car was parked in the driveway, behind garage. I only noticed this in the second that I turned my car off the road and into the driveway. Then, trees and house blocked the car from view. The driveway separated just south of the house, with a loop at the front, and the garage– formerly carriage house– tucked away behind.

I didn't think much about it until the front door was opened for me. Ed was frowning, his whole face pulled into the expression. "We need to talk," he said tersely, taking me by the arm and leading me into the room left of the foyer.

Evelina was sitting in the room with Toni and another woman flanking her. She held a small towel in her hand. My punch had left a nice shiner around her right eye.

Opposite her, I sat straight, my ankles crossed, and my hands loosely woven together. "Is there something wrong?" I asked softly, then "What– what happened to Evelina?"

"How can you–" she started to explode. The unnamed woman put a heavy hand on her arm, and Evelina shut her mouth.

Ed more calmly explained, "She tells us that you punched her last night. Because you didn't like her telling you that she was certain it was just two neighborhood kids screwing around. You said you needed the money, and when Evelina said she was going to just tell Mrs. Whittacker what she knew, you punched her and told her you would do worse if she did."

"Indeed."

"Do you have anything to say for yourself before you're fired?"

"Does it matter? I mean, you'll believe her over me. I'm just another lying, violence-prone, desperate-for-a-case private eye."

Ed lifted his chin.

I went on, "I don't need the money. I mean, sure, it'd be nice, but I have a solid enough business that I'm not scraping by every month for rent or groceries. Hell, if Evelina wants to give me the names of the two boys she thinks it was, I'll be happy to investigate that angle. The sooner I finish the case, the sooner I can spend the money from it, whether it's a thousand bucks or three hundred."

Ed looked from me to Evelina. "I'm sorry, Miss Fexler, but I can't keep you employed any longer."

"That's the thing, Ed. You didn't sign the contract, Francis did. She is, legally, my client."

"She agrees with the firing."

"Same as she agreed with hiring Toni?" I shot.

"I don't know what makes you think she doesn't."

"Because I listened."

"You– don't know what you're talking about–" Evelina hissed.

Subtly, I scratched the side of my head with my middle finger. Evelina caught it and her face flushed. She leapt to her feet and took several steps towards her, hands in loose fists. Loose, of course, because she was a slapper, not a puncher.

"You're not welcome here!" she shouted.

Ed shushed her. "Evelina."

When she turned towards him, I made a break for the stairs. I slipped on the throw rug at the bottom, fell to one knee, then grabbed the railing and hauled myself back to my feet and upwards. I heard footsteps behind me, but they stopped at the bottom. I paused just a moment at the top of the stairs, glanced at the miniature crowd, then opened the door to Francis's room.

She was sitting, her head bent over a thick book. When I shut the door, she looked up.

"Miss Fexler," she creaked out of vocal cords rusty from disuse.

"I just have one question. Then, I'll let you be."

She lifted her chin fractionally, but her lips were unmoved.

"Are you firing me?"

Eyes blinked. "I think you need to explain this a little further before I answer."

"Evelina claims that I made an unprovoked assault on her yesterday. Ed said that I was fired."

"Did you hit Evelina?"

"Yeah. After she hit me."

"Evelina hit you?"

"Yep."

"Why would she do that?"

"Because of what the investigation has turned up. She knew that I would find things out– about her."

"The things you told me earlier."

"Yes."

"I knew there was something more to this story. No, Miss Fexler. You are not fired. I want you to get to the bottom of this. And the next time Evelina or anyone hits you, call the police."

I gave a nod of understanding, but not of consent. They look the same though. "Then, I'll go back to digging up clues."

"Who do you think it was, out there, Tuesday?" Francis asked.

"I don't know yet."

"You have some idea, I'm sure. I want to hear it."

"Francis, I don't make a practice of talking about speculations."

She frowned. "Do you normally call your clients by their first names?"

"I'm not real good with authority figures," I answered. "Why do you think I'm self-employed?"

"I look forward to hearing your findings, Miss Fexler."

"So do I."

I closed the door quietly, then peeked over the banister, listening and looking. I neither saw nor heard anything. To minimize the sound, I stepped on the balls of my feet on the front of the step as I descended the stairs. I heard something I as my sneakers soundlessly stepped onto the still wrinkled foyer carpet. I heard a low murmur, coming in waves.

I walked lightly, following the sound. I stopped at the closed door that separated me from the conversation. I heard two voices– a man and a woman. The words didn't make it through the thick door. I tiptoed lightly back to the stairs, waited, then walked normally through the rooms. Coming back to the closed door, I knocked on it.

Ed opened the door a few inches. "Yes?"

"I have some questions."

Ed hesitated, then looked over his shoulder. "All right." He stepped into the hall, pulling the door shut with a thin, shaking hand.

I leaned myself against the window sill. "Were you here at all on Tuesday evening?" I asked in a low voice.

"Tuesday? No. No, I wasn't here."

"When was the last time you were here? Before Tuesday."

"Let me think. Probably Sunday. Since Toni has the day off, I usually come by to see if my mother needs anything."

"What were you and Toni discussing in there?" I nodded towards the closed door.

"I don't believe that's any of your business."

"I'm not asking for details. Just the topic. Because, right now, I'm kind of suspicious of her."

His eyes flicked towards the closed door. "Suspicious? Of Toni?"

"My word," I said with a bitter laugh. I swooped past Ed, opened the door quickly. Toni stumbled back, barely moving away from the door as it swung in; however, she wasn't able to pose. She stood, arms limp at her side, shoulders bent, a pair of paces inside the door. "Rather than have you repeat everything so loudly," I explained. "The echo is starting to bother me."

Ed looked at Toni, then looked at the floor. "Why are you suspicious of her?"

"I think she was outside Tuesday night. And I think it was Evelina who was outside with her. I'm just not sure why, yet. Unless . . . unless it's because there's a love affair between them."

Toni drew in a short breath. "There's not," Toni answered. She rubbed her neck with a nervous hand.

"Who is Evelina seeing right now?"

"No one, as far as I know," Toni answered.

"Who was she last with?"

Toni glanced away.

"I already know she . . . has a history of dating women," I said with an unprecedented amount of tact. Perhaps there was hope yet for my mouth.

"I– I don't know," Toni stumbled.

"It's not really Toni's job to keep track of who Evelina dates," Ed put in.

I heard his words, but I didn't process them. My gaze had become fixated on Toni. Or rather, on Toni's neck. I stepped swiftly up beside her. With one firm hand, I took her by the upper arm. I pulled down the top of her turtleneck, revealing an ugly-looking bruise on her neck. She jerked, tried to pull away, but years of bullying made me stronger than her.

"What happened," I stated in low, commanding voice. I focused a piercing gaze on her.

She tried to think of a lie. Concocting a credible story is difficult even when the liar is not under interrogation. Beads of sweat started to collect in the fuzz along the side of her face, just before her hairline. "I– It was from Tuesday night," she finally stammered out.

"You were outside."

She nodded.

"With?"

"That– that I'm not going to tell you. You have no right–"

Ed interjected, "Let her go. She's done nothing wrong."

I held for a second longer, then released Toni. "Obviously, whoever you were arguing with got a bit upset at you."

She nodded.

"But you want to protect this person."

Another nod.

"From?"

She glanced at Ed. "From . . . any trouble. They didn't mean to hurt me. And . . . I don't want them in any trouble with the law."

It was my turn to nod. I even smiled crookedly. "That almost seems plausible. Keep working on it. You might just convince someone next time."

"It's the truth," she sighed.

"Well, I'm out of questions. Have a nice night. And, oh yeah, I will find the answers I'm looking for."

"That sounds like a threat," Ed warned me.

I shrugged. "I can't really help that." I put my hands into my pockets. I met Ed's, then Toni's, gaze before strolling out of the house. Out on the porch, I stopped to light up a cigarette. The air was bitter cold. A present from our neighbors to the north. We should have asked for a receipt so we could return it. Stars glittered in a perfectly clear, moonless sky. I got into my car, gave the old vehicle a few minutes to warm up before rolling down the driveway.

I stopped to get gas for my car along with a bottle of pop and a can of Pringles. With the car running for warmth, I pulled out my laptop computer, waited for it to boot up, then looked up Toni's address on my phone disk.

After a ten minute drive along mostly quiet roads, I pulled into Toni's neighborhood. The little house next to hers had a lockbox on the door and a 'for sale' sign on the neglected lawn. I parked there, pulling halfway up the short gravel driveway.

There are several dozen ways that I could get information about who Toni was seeing. Most of them required time. Some of them were legal. I smoked and thought. My favorite was placing a recording device in her house. The tricky part was always getting the recorder back. Though, I was getting good at B&E. And at getting off the charges.

I took one last drag, then snuffed my cigarette out. Anyone who thinks smoking is a good idea is a half bubble off plumb. At least. Myself included. Though, I've never had any delusions about my level of sanity.

I slid out of the car, back into the frigid night. I didn't look around me– that would look suspicious for anyone who might see me; furthermore, I had scoped out the area while still inside the car. I strolled into Toni's yard. I went around the little house to the back. It was nicely secluded with a high bush on one side and a tall wooden fence on the other. A motion-sensitive light came on. In the well-lit back yard, I checked the three windows and the read door. They were all locked, but a corner window seemed promising. The latch was loose.

I took out my pocket knife, pressed the window so it would lean as far as the worn frame would allow it, and worked at the latch. Eventually the motion light winked out, plunging the yard into darkness again. It made it harder to tell how much progress I was making with each scrape of the knife against the old-fashioned latch.

Suddenly, my knife plunged into the new gap. I folded the blade, returned it to my pocket, and slid the window up. I had to unbutton my overcoat to allow myself the range of movement that would be necessary to climb into the house. I pulled myself into the window, then let gravity take me inside. I got up in stages– first to my knees, then to a crouch, then a bent stance, then finally my full height. I took out my pen light.

I had entered Toni's house in a spare bedroom that had a desk, but clearly served as a storage space more than a home office. I eased the door open and stepped into the small hallway. Across me was a shut door that would lead to the other bedroom. To my left was another door, for the bathroom. And to my right the hall emptied into the living room.

I went into the bedroom first. Since I was there. I poked around, keeping my penlight close to the things I was studying so the light would be less noticeable from outside the dark house. There were a few framed photos on the dresser. Toni and her friends. One photo was of Evelina and Toni. The two girls were posing for the camera with their left arms extended to show off the charm bracelets they wore.

I stopped to recollect, but I was certain that Toni no longer wore the charm bracelet. I didn't recall Evelina wearing it either. I continued my search of the dresser top. Poking in a jewelry box revealed Toni's charm bracelet. Intact.

I looked over the charms. One of the charms– a little heart with cupid arrow– was engraved with the letters T + E. I returned the bracelet to the box and closed the lid.

I was almost ready to conclude that the two people outside Tuesday night had been Evelina and Toni. Something about a love affair turned sour as two-month old milk. As I headed to the living room, headlights swung around to illuminate the house. I dropped to a crouch and shuffled behind a chair. The closed curtains would obscure my shape. I hoped.

The lights stayed aimed at the house. I rose far enough to see out the window and confirm that a car had parked in front of the house. It wasn't even eight yet. Too early for Toni to be home. Not that it mattered.

I scurried at half-height back to the spare room. The front door opened only a few seconds after I shut the door to the spare room. I climbed out the window, then pulled it closed. Of course it squawked when I did. So, I dove for the bushes.

I crawled along the neighbor's side of the bushes to the front yard. From that vantage point, I watched Toni's house. All I could see was that the living room and bedroom lights were on.

Just as I went to straighten my bent and protesting knees, I physically jerked with a sudden observation. It wasn't Toni's car in the driveway.

I checked my watch again to make sure it was still ten to eight. Then, I strode right up to the front door and, failing to find a doorbell, knocked hard with my knuckles. My hands have hit too many bones and boards to hurt anymore. And a hard knock suggests a strong and/or important person standing outside.

There was no response. A car drove by, obscuring any sounds from inside the house. As the crunch of tire-on-old-asphalt faded, I waited. Inside was oddly quiet. Maybe I was supposed to go away. Like that old "Men at Work" song.

I knocked again.

Then, I tried the door knob. It turned. The door opened.

"Waiting for Toni?" I asked the figure in the puffy coat standing, back to me, at the kitchen table.

"Yes. But it's not what you think."

"And what, pray tell, do I think?"

"You think I was the one outside with Toni."

I didn't answer. I like to play with cards so close to my chest, I hold them inside my shirt.

"It wasn't. It was supposed to look like me. It was staged. Ed was doing it." Since I was reticent, she kept talking. "He wanted to make it look like Toni and I broke up. That we'd gotten into a fight and broke up. He was doing it so Grandma would leave the two of us alone. She kept talking about firing Toni because she didn't like her hired help . . . engaging in indecent acts while employed."

"So . . . why didn't anyone just come out and say this?"

Evelina turned to face me. "It was part of the plan. Once Grandma decided to hire a private investigator, we decided to keep quiet about it."

"Until now."

"Yes."

"And I'm supposed to go back to Francis and tell her what you've told me."

She nodded.

"Well. Any more convenient at it would be a pulp mystery story. All it needs is some grammatical errors and typos."

"You're a bitch."

I shrugged with one shoulder. "At least you know a fact when you see one. How long have you been in the relationship with Toni?"

Evelina bit her lip. "Since shortly after Grandma hired her."

"After. Not before."

Evelina shook her head. "Before we were just friends."

"I found a charm outside where the scuffle took place. What can you tell me about that?"

"It was from the matching bracelets Toni and I got."

"Whose bracelet broke– leaving the charm on the ground?"

"Toni's."

"I don't get it, Evelina. If Ed was staging this little scene with Toni, why wouldn't Toni come inside and admit that you and she had argued and broken up?"

Evelina's mouth opened, but she didn't come up with any words to fill the space.

"Your grandmother knew that Toni was a lesbian. She wasn't thrilled about it, but she accepted it." A synapse in my brain fired and I spoke the thought aloud. "Unless. She only kept Toni because Ed wanted her to. Ed brought up the idea of hiring Toni. It would be in his hands whether she stayed or not, wouldn't it? Your grandmother has her own ideas, but she doesn't put up much of a fight anymore these days."

Evelina wet her lips. Another sign of nervousness was the way she kept twisting the class ring she wore on the pinky of her right hand.

"Right?"

"Yeah." I saw her mouth move, but no sound accompanied it.

"He was using that . . . somehow. He could go to Francis and get Toni fired. It was a good job for Toni. She got paid well. And she was around, in the same house for you. The question is what did he get out of it."

Evelina's gaze fluttered towards the floor. She shuddered, subtly.

"Sex," I stated.

Evelina's eyes were on my face again, but only for a moment.

"So long as Toni slept with Ed, her job was safe," I guessed.

"You make it sound so shallow. It wasn't just her job. It was our relationship. You know how Grandma feels about . . . people like us."

"Yeah. Funny thing is. If you talked to her, you'd know too. How did you feel about your girlfriend sleeping with your uncle?"

"How do you think I liked it? I love her!"

"I'm sure you do."

I tipped my head, like I had heard something. Then I knelt on the couch to look out the window. As I pulled the curtain back in place, I placed my recorder on the ledge. It was hidden by the curtain and by the couch pushed against the window sill. "Thought I heard something," I reported with a shake of my head. "I should go anyway."

"You think I won't tell Toni you were here?"

I shrugged. I went back to my car. As I backed out of the neighbor's driveway, I saw Evelina watching me from the window.

I went back home. It had been a long day. The next day, I went back into Toni's house by way of the back window. It was still unlatched. I retrieved my recorder and went home to listen to it in warmth. Then, the only thing left was to type up my report and return to Francis Thayer Whittacker.

I spoke briefly when I sat in the chair beside Francis. I told her there was something she needed to listen to. Then I played back the recording, starting with shortly after Toni returned home.

"That PI was here," Evelina stated.

"Oh?" Toni replied calmly.

"She thinks she has it figured out. I told her this story about how Ed staged the fight with you to make it look like we were broken up." The sound of a closet door shutting muffled Toni's reply. Evelina answered, "No. She didn't buy it. She's smart. Got it pretty much figured out. She . . . she knows your sleeping with Ed."

"You don't think . . . you don't think she's got pictures, do you?"

"She might. That's what PI's do."

"Shoot. Then. That's it for us, isn't it? You said the other night you would never make our relationship public. That's why you made that goddamned deal with Ed in the first place."

Francis raised her eyebrows at me.

The recording continued.

"You agreed to it. You said this was the best job you'd ever had. You got paid to be with your girlfriend."

"Except for the part where I have to sleep with her dirty old uncle. God!" Toni's sigh was loud enough to be heard on the recording. "You know, I should have just ended it Tuesday. When you choked me. I don't know why I stayed. I don't know why I still do."

"Then don't!" Evelina shouted.

There was the sound of a slap between two of the angry footsteps. A door slammed. I stopped the recorder.

Then, I withdrew a small gold charm bracelet from the pocket of my coat and laid it on the table beside the recorder. "I found this in Evelina's room."

"It's broken," Francis noted.

"Yeah. And the charm I found in the yard matches."

"I don't know which part upsets me the most," Francis said. But she sighed wearily. "I'm not sure I wanted to know any of this, Miss Fexler."

I didn't have a response. Not even a flippant one.

"You're certain the Ed they're referring to on the tape is my son?" she asked haltingly.

"The only way to be more certain would be to get photographs of them in the act," I answered.

"Thank you, Miss Fexler, for your time. I have nothing more for you."

I stood up. At the door, I stopped to ask, "Are you going to fire Toni?"

"Not at this time. I wish I could fire Ed." She pressed the color from her lips. "I really thought that the problem lay with Miss Geller. I thought her parents had done a poor job of raising her. A job almost as bad as your parents did with you." Francis shook her head.

"Hey. Give my parents some credit. They taught me a lot of things that I just didn't heed. It's not their fault. Kids grow into adults. And adults will make their own choices, good or bad."

Francis Thayer Whittacker smiled at me, her face crinkling with the motion.

I pulled the door shut, jogged down the stairs, and out the front door. Snow fell from the undulating clouds making the unique, barely perceptible tik-tik-tik sound as the flakes touched down.