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Previous Chapters in the Beef Matson Archive - Chapters 1 to 4
Beef Matson Archive - Chapter 8

The Beef Matson Mystery Archive - A Person In A Position of Trust, Chapter 5, 6 & 7

© 2004 Rick Chris
Illustrations and photos ©2004 Rick Chris

Chapter Five - Waltzing With The Right Wing

TEAMWORK

Randy got a phone call from Justin, the son of his aunt Pamela, asking a favor of Beef Matson's assistant. Justin had gotten the word from the company he worked for, that his position with the company had been terminated and he needed Randy's help in removing his personal belongings from his office. Justin had been sick with the flu and at home when he got a terse phone call from his employer that he had been terminated. Justin managed to get an agreement from the manager who talked to him that he could come in on later date and pick up his personal belongings, however, he would be allowed in his former place of work for a total of ten minutes, no more. Since Justin's girlfriend could not get any time off from work to help him, Justin then called and asked Randy and Randy was eager to help.

Randy met Justin outside a downtown office building and Randy began to notice that Justin was opening doors for him and ushered him into the elevator ahead of him, like a man being polite to a woman. As they rode up in the elevator Randy asked Justin, "Why are you opening all the doors for me? Do you think because I'm gay you have to do that?"

"Nah," replied Justin, "I'm just being polite because I'm thankful because you're helping me. Now if I were gonna do something just because you were gay…I would do this."
Justin slowly reached down and then quickly goosed Randy's behind. Randy leaped forward and cried out.
"Hey…what ya do that for?"
"Because you're such the shy guy. I'd knew I'd get a reaction out of you. You're just too fun to tease", answered Justin. "Actually I really do appreciate your help. I've got a bunch of personal junk in my work area that I need to take home and I couldn't get it out by myself in ten minutes."
"Why ten minutes?" Randy responded. "What…is somebody going to stand there with a stopwatch and time you? You're not working for them anymore and you're off the clock so why should it matter how long you take to clean out your work area?"
"With this company it's a matter of trespassing. They feel that anyone who no longer works for them is a visitor on their property."
Randy rolled his eyes in disapproval.
"Still, that seems pretty lame," observed Randy. "If you take longer than ten minutes…what are they going to do…stand there and scream at you?"
"No, they threaten to have you arrested for trespassing and I wouldn't put it past this company to do something like that. The execs that run the company are a bunch of jerks and the women who are in charge of personnel are on a power trip. When they started the downsizing, one of the women from personnel would show up at somebody's cubicle without any warning at all and tell them they had just been terminated, had so many minutes to clear out their cubicle and then security guards would show up and escort them out of the building. Like the person was a big criminal or something. The only reason the same thing didn't happen to me was that I guess I called in sick the day they planned to get rid of me."
Justin paused a minute, staring up at the light in the elevator.
"Damn," he stated, "I may not have another job but I am so glad to be getting out of this place."

The elevator door opened onto quiet deserted reception area. The area looked normal, a small carpeted area with nice chairs, potted plants and a counter that a receptionist would normally sit behind. On the wall behind the counter was the company's logo. All the lights were on, yet the lack of people and dead silence made it all seem somewhat eerie. A slightly stale smell filled the air.
"Smells kind of stuffy in here," observed Randy.
"It's what happens when you get rid of all the people and just leave the furniture", responded Justin. "Plus they probably have turned down the ventilation for the floor."
Justin turned and grinned at Randy, "It's the smell of a dying and decaying corporation."
Justin walked over to a glass door leading to an office area beyond and ran a plastic card on his key chain over a sensor next to the door. The door lock clicked and Justin opened the door, motioning Randy to follow. Randy followed Justin through a large "bullpen" area of cubicles. Only of few of the ceiling lights were turned on so the area was dimly lit though the areas near the windows had light streaming in from outside. Randy noticed all the desks were devoid of computers.
"Looks like they had the resellers come in and pick up the remaining computers," observed Justin. "Next the desks and wall dividers will go. This really was the only floor that was filled with cubicles. The other floors the company rented were just empty boxes."
"Empty boxes?" asked Randy.
"Empty boxes is the term for when a company rents a few floors in a building but never uses them," replied Justin. "I guess that's done to make it look like a company is doing better than they really are."
"Weird corporate stuff…" observed Randy.
"You said it, dude," confirmed Justin.

The pair soon came to Justin's work area, an area that was larger than the other cubicles with higher divider walls. A small, corporate looking sign said, "Information Services". Justin opened the door of a closet and pulled out a number of empty cardboard boxes.
"I've been preparing for this," smiled Justin.
"What do you need to pack?" asked Randy.
Justin scanned the small area and spoke. "Well…I've got a couple of jackets, my running shoes…ah…my software books…some of the computer accessories are mine and my tool case here…these few plants…and…oh yeah, my toys. I can't forget my toys."
Randy looked at a collection of small, whimsical plastic toys that adorned some shelves above where there used to be a computer. Randy looked over at Justin and smiled. Justin put his hands up in the air and grinned.
"I can't work without my toys!" Justin smirked.
Justin and Randy worked quickly filling the boxes with Justin's belongings. Then Justin disappeared around a corner for a few seconds and reappeared with a hand truck. The two were placing boxes on the hand truck when they heard footsteps. They could see a woman walking towards them through the deserted cubicles.
"That's Nancy," said Justin quietly, "She's one of the personnel specialists…she's a real piece of work. Likes to drink vinegar and suck on lemons."
The woman approached Justin's work area with quick, determined steps and then stopped at the cubicle area, the somewhat short, pudgy woman maintaining a very stiff posture.
"Justin," she announced shrilly, "What are you doing here? Your association with us has been terminated. You are trespassing!"
Justin cocked his head calmly to one side and responded.
"I talked with Joann…she said since I was home sick, I could come in later and pick up my belongings."
"No…no…" replied the personnel specialist with an acerbic expression, though she seemed to be enjoying the confrontation. "Once an employee has been terminated, the employee no longer has access to company premises. An employee would retrieve your personal belongings and you could pick them up in one of the public areas. Besides, after belongings are left on company property for an extended period of time, they become company property."
The woman paused a brief second and spoke again.
"How did you get in here? Who is this?" she demanded, looking at Randy.
"I still have my access card, Joann told me I should turn it into her after I get my belongings," replied Justin calmly. "This is my relative, Randy. He's helping me move my stuff down to my truck."
The woman seemed to be irritated by Justin's calmness, as if she needed to have people frightened of her.
"No one told me anything about this at all. You can't remove anything…you'll just have to leave."
"No…” replied Justin calmly, "We've already packed everything, I will give Joann my access card, and then I am going home. For all I care, you can stand around and give lectures to the empty desks."
Nancy tightened her jaw and spoke again.
"You two just wait right here…" she commanded, "I am going to find Joann…"
The woman then rushed down one of the aisles with the sound of her quick, heavy footsteps echoing through the empty office space.
"God…” remarked Randy, "She really takes her job seriously…way too seriously."
"She…Nancy…" said Justin shaking his head, "is typical of the what this company became. That woman…she just gets her jollies from being mean. There's really something wrong with you when you get your kicks when you go out of your way to fire people in the worse possible way. She'd wait until somebody put in a full day of work and then tell them they were terminated on the way out the door. One day, I found one of our software engineers, a really big dude, crying his eyes out in the men's john. He came back from lunch and found Nancy sitting in his office with a termination notice. We had a really nice girl who was our receptionist. Nancy put her through hell trying to get her to quit so they didn't have to give her unemployment. They finally just laid her off…good God, why put the girl through that. She couldn't have been making very much money. Why not act a little civilized and treat people like human beings…"
The sound of another set of footsteps came from the office area, this time from the opposite direction.
"It's Joann," murmured Justin. "She's the personnel director…Nancy's boss." Joann was a taller, very well dressed woman. She approached Justin's work area.
"Justin…" she asked, "What are you doing here?"
"You told me I could come and get my personal stuff. This is Randy, one of my relatives; he's helping me. We've only been here a few minutes and I've got everything."
"Oh…” replied Joann seeming only partially interested. "That's right, it momentarily slipped my mind."
"Here's my access card," said Justin, slipping the plastic card off his key chain, "I don't need to come back. I'll leave the hand truck in the reception area."
"Hmmm…" replied Joann becoming less and less interested as she took the card, "Yes… just leave the truck in the reception area."
Suddenly, the rumble of a set of heavy, storm trooper like footsteps echoed through the cubicles, the sound growing closer. Joann looked down the aisle and a bored, slight grimace came to her face. It was Nancy, the fearsome personnel specialist. "He shouldn't be here…" complained Nancy, "He's been terminated. He has no right to be on corporate property. Should I call security?"
Joann avoided eye contact with Nancy. With a bored tone of voice she responded. "I gave him permission to come in and retrieve his personal belongings. I think they're leaving now."
Joann paused for a second and Nancy suddenly lost interest in Justin and Randy instead watching her boss for body language cues. Joann in a rather bored tone of voice spoke to Nancy.
"Nancy, I will need your access card."
Nancy responded with a very quick, "What?"
Joann sighed a very bored sigh and spoke again.
"The transition team had a meeting this morning and it was decided that your position is no longer needed and uh…you were terminated. I've been looking for you, but you weren't at your desk this morning. I left your termination package on your desk. I'm sure you're familiar with all of this, so you don't need any outgoing interview…the package contains your severance information and so on. I can give you fifteen minutes to remove your personal items and vacate…I have some appointments this morning and can't give you anymore time than that…as you know we're rather limited in staff right now."
Joann smiled a brief, crinkled smile at Nancy.
Nancy's expression turned to ashen stone, which gradually turned to reddish controlled rage. Justin and Randy flashed amazed expressions at each other and quickly began to move the hand truck out of the office area and to the reception area. Behind them they could hear Joann and Nancy.
"What transition team meeting? Why wasn't I included in this meeting…I was supposed to be included in all transition team meetings," Nancy barked.
"Nancy…it's all over for you…just give up on it," responded Joann in a monotone voice.
As Nancy's tone of voice grew in volume and intensity, Randy and Justin moved faster to the exit, not wishing to become embroiled in the conflict.
"I was a loyal corporate team player!" shouted Nancy.
"Nancy," replied Joann smugly, "We terminated people who had just as much loyalty. Loyalty really is nothing to the company, what only matters is the bottom line. You of all people should be aware of that."
As Justin and Randy attempted to get the door to the reception area open, they watched Joann walk away from Nancy, with Nancy following. The pair stopped again at a cubicle in the middle of the office space with Nancy gradually raising her voice and Joann responding in bored, terse answers. A large framed poster on the wall behind them shouted TEAMWORK. As Justin and Randy entered the reception area and the door closed behind them they could hear Nancy's loud voice before the door closed and muffled it.
"JOANN! YOU HAD PROMISED ME…THE MANAGEMENT TEAM HAD PROMISED ME…"

As the pair waited for the elevator to come to floor, Randy just looked at Justin and shook his head.
"Wow…"
They could still hear Nancy's loud but muffled voice in the lobby. Justin smiled.
"This could be a case for your boss…something a detective could investigate," Justin observed, "We might just be on the verge of a murder here. The case of the sadistic, vengeful personnel manager or something like that."
"They really are cold and heartless here," said Randy, "It's a good thing that you're getting your butt out of here."
"I think when I got sick the past few days it was just a case of getting rid of all the poison from this place," noted Justin. "When I got sick to my stomach, it was like I purged myself mentally and physically from here. So when I was fired, I had already mentally divorced myself from this place."
The bell rang for the elevator and the two young men rolled the hand truck into the elevator. Randy pressed the button for the ground floor and the door began to close. Just then, Nancy ran into the lobby and to the elevator. For the first time ever, Justin saw a vulnerable, sensitive expression on Nancy's face.
"Justin," she said softly but urgently, "Do you have your truck here?"
Justin put his hand out and held the elevator door open before it closed all the way. "Yes…" replied Justin.
"Oh good…" said Nancy, "I'm going to need someone to help me move out my personal crap…I've got a lot of stuff in my office."
"Nancy…" said Justin. An expression of concern came over Justin's face, then it was suddenly replaced by one of resolve.
"Yes…" waited Nancy.
"Why don't you just go and get one your of legions of demons to help you."
Justin removed his hand from the elevator door and it quickly closed.

*********

Low heavy clouds moving in over the city obscured what view Randy could get of San Francisco from his apartment window. The streets below were wet and the few people visible on the street were walking quickly, obviously not wanting to be out in the very chilly weather. Randy had fixed himself a pleasant supper of rice tacos and a fruit salad. After supper the detective's assistant was feeling whimsical and decided to log into one of those Internet radio stations that played Christmas music all year long and soon had holiday music playing from the speakers of his computer. He then fixed himself some hot Pepsi with a slice of lemon and went to the hall closet and pulled out a small box of Christmas lights and decorations. As he carried the box into the living room, Randy though he heard a small noise, what sounded like someone dropping a newspaper, but decided he had bumped the box against the wall. Like the year before, Randy began stringing lights on the window where his small dining table was. The lighted Christmas lights seemed to brighten up the dreary city block below and there even seemed to be fewer derelicts hanging out on the street while the lights were on. After Randy had put the lights in his window, Christmas lights began to appear in other apartment windows on the block.
With hammer and tacks and balancing on a kitchen chair, Randy completed the upper portion of the window. He then plugged in the next string of lights and tacked them to the lower portion of the window. Then it was just a simple issue of plugging the sets into the wall electrical socket. The lights were on, shining their glorious light throughout Randy's little kitchenette, living room and out onto the street below. With Christmas music wandering out of the bedroom from his computer, Randy sipped on his hot Pepsi, admired the lights and felt a genuine sense of well-being.

Randy decided to really get into the spirit and pulled out more decorations out of the box and carefully scattered them about the floor to see what he had. He then stepped back a ways to decide how he should decorate his place. He wondered if he should invite his friends over for a celebration as he did the year before. Out of the corner of his eye, Randy noticed an envelope lying just under his front door. Obviously, someone had put it there after he had come home. Randy picked up the envelope and wondered what it could be. The envelope had the logo of the apartment management company. Maybe it was memo from the apartment management that they were finally going to make some much needed maintenance to the building. Randy walked back over to his small dining table and opened the envelope. He pulled out a white sheet of paper and tossed the yellow envelope on the table. The title on the paper was "Notice of Eviction". Even though he had just received the notice, it was dated just after Thanksgiving, on November 27th and it stated that Randy was being evicted for making "unauthorized alterations to his living unit". Randy had to be out by December 31st.
"Unauthorized alterations!" Randy yelled out. "They should be happy that somebody is making some alterations so this stupid slum doesn't fall in on itself!"
Randy flung the paper on the dining table. He stood for a couple of seconds in silence, then paced back and forth, clenching his fists.
"Damn it, damn it…DAMN IT!" he again yelled out.
Randy picked up the paper once again, looked at it briefly and tossed it back down on the table. Genuinely hurting, Randy muttered to himself.
"What a bunch of crap…"
The blond haired young man suddenly reached down next to the table and jerked the cord to the Christmas lights out of the wall socket. The lights went dark, the kitchen going from joyous to somber. Randy then grabbed all the decorations he had put on the floor and threw them back into the box they had been stored in. He then went to his bedroom closet and grabbed a framed photo of himself standing with another young man. He then sat on his bed holding the photo in his lap. As he rocked back and forth staring at the photo, Randy muttered to himself.
"What a bunch of crap. What a bunch of crap…"
As he stared at the photo, Randy calmed, his mind wandering through memories of events long since passed. He sat on his bed for several minutes. Randy then noticed a colored light coming from his living room. Curious, Randy put the photo back on its shelf and walked into his living room/kitchen area. The lights in his kitchen window were on! He thought he had unplugged them. Randy walked over to the wall and saw the plug was in the socket. Then turning around, Randy saw all the Christmas decorations were not in the box they were stored in, but carefully placed on the floor around the box. Randy was puzzled. He was convinced that he had pulled the lights plug out of the wall and put the decorations back in the box. He must be more upset than he realized. Randy bent down and gently put the decorations back in the box. This time he left the lights plugged in. Fixing himself another mug of hot Pepsi, Randy surfed the Internet for a while listened to some music and then went to bed. The soft, comforting glow from the Christmas lights made its way into his bedroom.

*********

Beef Matson

The next day at work, it didn't take long for Beef to notice something was brewing with Randy. Though Randy was making every effort to go about his duties with a sense of normalcy, the detective could easily tell something was amiss. First off and most telling, Randy was quieter than usual and exhibited a cheerfulness that seemed to be forced. On top of that, his assistant had a sour expression, as if Randy had been gargling with lemon juice. With a bit of prodding and coaxing, Randy told Beef about getting the eviction notice. To Beef this was another bit of evidence of an effort to put the screws on Randy, especially getting an eviction notice at the beginning of the Christmas season. Beef did not tell Randy of this concern, instead focusing on the idea that this would be a good opportunity to get his assistant of the derelict building he lived in and into a better place.

With a bit more prodding, Randy also finally told Beef about getting phone calls from Sharon. Beef expressed his disapproval when Randy told Beef he had erased the phone calls. Beef wanted to know more about Sharon's calls to Randy. Randy revealed that Sharon would had been calling him since he had gotten his apartment. More interestingly, the theme to Sharon's calls had always been to get Randy to move back to Illinois and move in with Sharon.

Randy said he began to discourage Sharon's calls when the calls started to get strange. When Sharon began to try to convince Randy what a wonderful relationship they would have living together. Randy told Beef that this spin to Sharon's phone calls was confusing to him since he had always viewed Sharon more as a sister. Finally he stopped answering Sharon's calls when she started talking about Randy as a being a replacement for her husband.
"Replacement for her husband?" asked Beef, "Just exactly what was going to happen to her husband. Divorce?"
"Well…" answered Randy, "She said her husband was going to die soon."
"How did she know her husband was going to die soon?” asked Beef again, this time with an arched eyebrow.
"Because he was old…” related Randy, "She said he wouldn't be around that much longer because he was old."
"Well…" the detective smiled, "Sometimes people can be surprising in that they live to be a ripe old age."
"Sharon's husband didn't," replied Randy, "He died a few months later."
Beef muttered an almost inaudible "Hmmm". "Sharon seems to be a bit of a psychic," he observed.
Beef told Randy not to erase any more of Sharon's phone calls that he might get. He also told his assistant not to worry about the eviction, that it was a blessing in disguise. Getting Randy a place to stay would be just a case of the detective making a few phone calls and after the first of the year they could concentrate on getting Randy a much better apartment. In the meantime, Randy could even store some of his furnishings in the office if need be. Once again, Randy's spirits were uplifted and Beef's assistant was in a better frame of mind, the sour expression vanished and once again, Randy was close to being his bubbly old self.

"…It's Teddy and he's tinkling on the piano."

Later that evening, Beef had Randy accompany him on an after hours business trip. Randy had done this a number of times before. They would usually head off to some gay bar with Randy bringing along a briefcase with him. Beef would meet with the client, usually the owner of the bar, about some matter they wanted the detective to investigate. Sometimes it would be some suspected pilfering, theft or drug dealing by some employees, on one occasion the employees of a bar retained Beef to get information on the new owner of their bar who they suspected of wanting to turn their place of work into a front for drug trafficking. On other occasions, the investigations involved burglary, vandalism, investigating another business the owner wanted to buy, or some other personal matter. After the meeting, Beef would give Randy some documents for him to later file, use to create a report or do some research on. Randy would put these documents in the briefcase and leave for home with Beef heading off somewhere else. Sometimes the client wanted to speak to Beef alone so Randy would be sent to sit in the bar while Beef had his meeting. On one such occasion, Randy found himself sitting unhappily alone in a punk leather bar while the studded and pierced patrons of the establishment slowly closed in around him. None of the other men said a word, just moving in closer and closer without saying a word while the cute young blond sat on a bar stool clutching the brief case. Finally Beef Matson came to retrieve him, rescuing his besieged and flustered assistant.
On this evening the bar they headed to was drag show lounge more frequented by straight tourists than it was by gay people. The name of the lounge was Robes Roses and it was on Broadway, up in North Beach. A cold drizzle made the pavement wet and shiny and it reflected the bright signs on the front of the lounge. A short sidewalk covered by a canopy lead into the front entrance bordered on both sides by evergreen shrubs. The entrance opened into an anteroom, which looked something like the lobby of a hotel. The room had garish bright red flocked wallpaper, a glass counter at front, upholstered chairs scattered here and there and a piano in the back corner of the room. The room was crowded with tourists milling about. Beef and Randy made their way through the crowd to the piano in back to the rear of the room.
"This place looks like a Victorian whore house," observed Beef.
"Is that from memory?" asked Randy, "You're a lot older than I thought."
"Cute…" replied Beef, "Really cute."
Beef poked two of his fingers in what he knew were sensitive spots in Randy's side. Randy jerked and shuttered. Beef put his hands on Randy's shoulders and kept stirring him to the piano. Approaching the piano Randy blurted out, "Oh look boss, it's Teddy and he's tinkling on the piano."
Teddy, the piano player was a friend of Randy's and teasing each other was a part of their friendship.
Teddy looked up at Beef and Randy.
"Hello Beef," he said, "What brings you here? I see Randy is up way past his bedtime."
Beef Matson smiled. "I'm here to see the head honcho of the place. Is he floating around here somewhere?"
"Myles?" answered Teddy. "Yeah, he's here. He's expecting you. Told me to be on the lookout for you. He had to tend to something in another part of the building, but he should be back in a minute or two."
Randy moved behind Teddy and began to massage the piano player's shoulders.
"Does Bill know you're moonlighting in a whore house instead of playing at church socials?"
"If that's a way of asking how my husband is, Bill is doing fine," answered Teddy. "Whore house? Wall to wall straight tourists and a scattering of drag queens do not a whore house make."
"I guess you were wrong about the whore house, Beef," blurted out Randy.
Beef raised his eyebrows and looked away. Teddy had a slightly puzzled look on his face and Randy began going through some sheet music on a taboret next to Teddy.
"Will you leave that alone? Why are you going through my sheet music?" protested Teddy.
"Just trying to find you something better to play. What's that song you're playing now?"
"The 'Theme from Picnic'".
"Here, play this." Randy put a piece of sheet music on the piano in front of Teddy.
"That…?" exclaimed Teddy, "That's ancient! That's 'Wait Till The Sun Shines, Nellie.'"
"Oh…?" teased Randy, "I thought it said 'Wait Till Your Son Turns Nellie'. Now that would be appropriate for this place." Teddy shook his head and continued playing.

The word "Nellie" is old gay slang for a man who behaves effeminately. So when Randy changes the song title to Wait Till Your Son Turns Nellie, he's making a joke by making a play on words.

"Matson!" A booming bass voice yelled over the din of the crowd. It was Myles, the owner of the establishment. Myles was a burly, middle-aged man dressed in a white silk shirt and black slacks. He made his way over to the piano. "Beef, Randy…how you guys doing? Beef, we can chat in my office.
Randy, the floor show's starting up…why don't you go into the lounge and catch the show."
Myles motioned to an employee at the entrance to the lounge. "Yuri! No cover charge for Randy here." Myles then guided Beef back through the crowd to heading to his office. Randy paused for a second with Teddy at the piano. The employee at the lounge entrance kept motioning to Randy to come over.
"Sorry, Randy…I know how much you love drag shows," Teddy told Randy. Randy rolled his eyes.
"Myles doesn't like me to chat with anyone while I'm performing, best if you go watch the show,' added Teddy.
Clutching the small leather briefcase, Randy sang, "Well, I guess it's off to see the drag show." As Randy turned and headed for the lounge entrance Teddy tugged on the detective's assistant's jacket.
"Give me a call…Bill and I would like to have you over for a holiday drink." Randy nodded approval and patted Teddy on the shoulder before heading off to the lounge.

Randy entered the lounge and sat at the bar, near the entrance. The lounge was a big, fairly dark room filled with tables. There was a medium sized stage at the center and the room was dotted with large round columns. Randy imagined that the building might have been a warehouse or garage at one time. The place was noisy and except for some employees and a group of rowdy lesbians seated at a table in a corner, everyone else appeared to be straight tourists. Randy straddled the bar stool and leaned his back against the bar, facing the stage. A cute, young dark haired bartender, someone that Randy knew, called out to him and asked what he would like to drink. Randy ordered a highball and in short order, the bartender returned with the drink.
"This one's on me, Randy!", said the bartender and rubbed Randy on the head, messing his blond hair slightly. Randy thanked the bartender, the show of friendliness making him feel more at ease. The bartender quickly rushed off to tend to other patrons and Randy tried to settle into the bar stool, patted his hair back down and began to watch the show.

A performer was lip-synching to some show tune in a rather mediocre performance. The audience was giving marginal attention and a fair amount of conversation could be heard mixed in with music. The performance did not hold Randy's attention either and he gazed around the lounge room. At the tables sat chattering tourists and waiters darted back and forth. The group of lesbians at the table in the corner chatted and laughed loudly, probably sharing jokes. Randy spied a young woman who was with a straight group. The woman was dressed casually, in jeans and sweater, but instead of sitting with her friends at the table, she was standing next to them and leaning against one of the large, round support columns. Curiously, the woman was on the side of the column that faced away from the stage and appeared to be carefully studying the group of lesbians a couple tables away.

The female impersonator on stage ended his performance and a smattering of clapping filled the air. A heavyset drag queen in a black wig and a dark gown walked on stage with a microphone in his hand. It was someone Randy recognized but whose name he did not recall. This was apparently the master of ceremonies. "Let's give it up for Ginger Snaps," shouted the M.C. "No, no people…your hands have actually got to touch each other to make a sound. Well anyway, some of you have got it right. Thanks again, Ginger Snaps…for that marvelously tepid performance!"

The performer, Ginger Snaps, bowed a couple of times, not catching on to the M.C.'s comments and left the stage. A spotlight focused on the M.C. and he continued. "Well, thanks to you all for making it here tonight, on this chilly wet night…it certainly has been an unseasonably cold November…and now it's December and it's getting even colder! But we will keep you warm tonight because we've got a really hot show for you!"
The M.C., pretending he had heard a comment from the audience, continued.
"Ginger Snaps?…oh, that was just someone who wandered in from the street. A nice girl, but terribly confused."
There were giggles from the audience.
"Just to remind you folks, as they told you at the front door and we told you at the beginning of the show, please turn off your cell phones. It's unfair to the other patrons and it shows disrespect to the performers. Let's just say if your phone rings during a performance…we show you how to use it as a sex toy. And then it will be just so difficult for you to reach it when it rings again."
A hearty laugh came from the audience.
"Oh my gosh…" said the M.C. putting a hand over his mouth. "Did I say that? My mother would just slap me if she heard me talk like that!"
Suddenly a cell phone rang and a shocked murmur came over the audience. The M.C. put a hand over his eyes and peered out into the audience. "Where is that coming from…?" he growled.
The cell phone rang again and the M.C. exclaimed, "Oh, it's me!" The audience screamed with laughter. The M.C. asked the audience to wait a minute while he answered his phone. He carefully pulled a cell phone from his gown and daintily answered, "Hello…". Then the M.C. yelled into the phone, "Listen you bastard, I told you not to call me now, I'm the middle of a show!", and then put the phone back into his gown. The audience roared.

The M.C. continued with some banter with the audience, asking where people were from. For instance, when a couple said they were from Kansas, the M.C. asked if they were wearing formal overalls. He continued with the sarcastic repartee and the audience loved it. When someone asked the M.C. where he got his jokes and the reply was, "Let's just say if Milton Berle was still alive, he'd be suing me".

The M.C. introduced the next performer as Cocoa Puffs. Cocoa Puffs was a black guy who looked very convincing as a woman with a stylish black wig and makeup. He wore a tight dark blue gown which glittered in the spotlight had a very large salmon colored feather boa draped across his shoulders. Smiling and friendly, Cocoa Puffs had great stage presence and his number was more of a dance number than it was lip-synching. Cocoa pranced proudly and athletically as he danced to a song by Caterina Valente called "The Breeze and I" being played over the sound system. Cocoa whirled around, slid and kicked his legs, which was all very impressive in considering he was a big man in high heels. Then there was the boa. Cocoa whirled the boa around his head and threw it around his body, much like a lariat. He would throw the boa through his legs and up over his head. Randy concluded that the boa must be weighted on each end to get it to sail around in the air the way Cocoa was doing. Usually the cynic about drag performances, even Randy was impressed by the performance and joined in the frequent outbursts of applause for Cocoa Puffs.

Cocoa then left the stage and danced into the audience, followed by two spotlights. The performer began to throw his boa over the tables of patrons, sailing the feather boa over their heads. The audience responded with oohs and ahhs as if they were watching a fireworks show. Then Cocoa Puffs approached one of the support columns nearest to the stage. He threw his boa around the column and caught it as came around the other side. The audience applauded and whistled. Cocoa strutted over to the column on the other side of the stage and did the same thing. The audience was amazed. The performer then danced towards the back of the room away from the stage and pulled the boa in the air behind him over the heads of the audience. Some people in the audience lifted up hands to just get a touch of the boa as it drifted overhead. The audience now loved Cocoa.

The feather boa was thrown around another column in the rear near the bar; Cocoa caught the end of the boa and pulled it back and forth across the column while he rubbed his back against the column in provocative poses. Cocoa now danced back to stage during the most energetic portion of the song. He moved towards the column to Randy's right where the woman Randy had noticed earlier was still leaning. With most of the lights turned off in the audience area, the spotlights trained on Cocoa provided most of the lighting so the woman leaning against the column was in relative darkness. She was ignoring the show, instead intently watching every move of the lesbians at table at the back of the room. The woman's friends were ignoring her, captivated by the performance.

Cocoa threw his boa around that same column, intending to repeat the same action as with the previous column, pulling the boa back and forth and rubbing his back against the support. The boa sailed into the darkness around the back of the column. Suddenly the woman standing behind the column found that a large, feathered snake had appeared out of nowhere and was now lying across her neck. On the other side of the column, Cocoa Puffs quickly grabbed the returning tip of the feather boa. He threw his back against the column and began to shimmy. The woman on the other side of the column now found that the big, feathered snake was now beginning to tighten its grip around her neck. She grabbed the creature in an effort to stop its motion. Cocoa Puffs, on the other hand, found that the feather boa seemed to be stuck on something and pulled harder. To her horror, the woman on the other side of the column found the creature was fighting back and it seemed to be stronger than she was. She began to cry out and flay her legs about. Cries also went up from the audience.

From his vantage point, Randy could see both sides of the column and what was going on. Just as he got off the barstool to run off to help the woman, the woman managed a desperate kick to one of her seated male companions and her blissfully ignorant friends suddenly became aware of her predicament and jumped up to help her. A couple people grabbed the boa from her neck and others ran around the column to make the puzzled drag performer stop his show.

As Randy sat back down, an amazed Cocoa Puffs realized what was going on. The performer then led the woman he almost strangled to the foot of the stage and in the glare of the spotlights had the woman take a couple of bows. The very embarrassed woman returned to her friends and then it was Cocoa's turn to take his bows. The audience gave him a standing ovation. He climbed back onto the stage and waving and smiling, backed his way into the wings. Offstage, Cocoa Puffs approached the M.C. In a very deep, angry voice he growled, "Would it be too much to ask to have somebody keep an eye on our little tourist friends so they don't get underfoot?" and then stalked off to the dressing room.

The M.C. once again appeared on stage thanking Cocoa Puffs for his performance. "Wasn't that a nice touch by Ms. Puffs to add strangulation by feather boa to her act?" After waiting for a round of laughter from his sarcastic comment to die down, the M.C. said there would be a slight intermission before the next performer named Peppa Spray would make his appearance. He encouraged the audience to stay and get their drinks refreshed. Some of the tourists then began to leave though still others entered the room looking for empty tables. A man passed Randy calling back to a group of people behind him that he would go outside and hail a taxi. Of that group, there were three women and one of the women was hanging onto a man, probably her husband. Randy began to hear the women talking about him.

"Back in Virginia, we have laws that say you have to be a woman to marry a man!"

"I betcha he's one of them…I bet he's gay."
As the first two women, apparently slightly inebriated, wobbled past him, they gawked at Randy as if he were an exhibit in a display case, their mouths gaping. As the third woman walked past Randy clinging to the man she was with, she stopped and directed a comment to Randy.
"Back in Virginia, we have laws that say you have to be a woman to marry a man!"
Randy ignored the woman's comment and calmly turned his head away, suddenly noticing that Beef Matson was standing next to him; the detective had just walked into the lounge. Beef looked at the woman, put his arm around Randy's shoulders and said in a deep masculine voice, "Well baby doll, you ready to go home?"
Beef then bent over and tenderly kissed Randy on the forehead. The woman glared at Beef, then Randy and at then Beef again. She then pulled on her male companion and marched towards the lounge door, the couple wobbling out of the room.
"Baby doll…?" asked Randy.
"It was for effect," answered Beef matter of factly, "Let's go."

"I think we just witnessed the fall of royalty."

This time around Randy found that Beef had no papers, documents or contracts for his briefcase. Beef also did not have anywhere else to go and would escort Randy back to his apartment. On their way out, Randy and Beef exchanged greetings with Teddy the piano player and made their way back through the crowded lobby to the street entrance. Outside on the sidewalk, they saw three drag queens heading up the walk towards them. One of the drag queens was plumpish, the one in the middle average build and the third a very slender black drag queen. Randy noted that one of the Courts must be having a meeting at the bar. The three drag queens were trying to be impressive and smiling to everyone. The plumpish drag queen who was walking on the edge of the sidewalk spied Beef and Randy and raised his white gloved hand to them in a royal wave and then had one of his high heels hydroplane on the wet pavement. His leg went up and off to the side, as if doing an impromptu Can-Can. His entire body then tipped over to the side like a toppling statue, and he fell into the evergreen bushes though first grabbing onto the queen next to him. As the queen in the middle was being pulled into the bushes after the first drag queen, his maneuvering in high heels made him look like a tap dancer in an earthquake and he grabbed onto the third skinny drag queen next to him. As the bushes engulfed the second drag queen, the skinny guy was whip lashed into the bushes as if he were a skier suddenly yanked by a speedboat. A crowd of people ran over to retrieve the fallen drag queens from the bushes. Randy looked up at Beef and quipped. "I think we just witnessed the fall of royalty."
Beef grabbed Randy by the shoulders and hustled him off to get a cab.

*********

Arriving at Randy's building, Beef insisted on going up to the apartment with Randy and even checked out Randy's apartment. He then lectured Randy on keeping an eye out for suspicious activity and what Randy should do to protect himself. Beef repeated his desire to get Randy out of his current apartment as soon as possible and into a place that Beef would consider safer, at least until Randy could get a new place. The detective was concerned about the personal security of his assistant. Randy, as usual, didn't seem to think things were that serious and he felt he could try to take care of things himself, after all, he always had. Beef Matson then put his hand firmly on Randy's shoulders and looked directly at his assistant.
"O.k., eye contact time," said Beef.
The detective had Randy look him in the eyes and told his assistant what he, Beef Matson, had in mind, what he wanted Randy to do and that would be the game plan and that it was very important that Randy go along with the plan. Beef said he knew how important being independent was to Randy but this one time he would have to trust someone else and that someone else would have to be Beef Matson. Looking directly into Beef's eyes, Randy finally nodded his approval. After the detective left his apartment and hearing Beef's footsteps going down the wooden stairs, Randy paused for a second, listening to the fading footsteps, the foghorns and street noise from outside. Then he heard a whispered voice.
"That's really a nice guy."
Randy quickly turned around and saw nothing. The voice was so faint that he wasn't sure he had really heard it. After a few moments the young man dismissed the incident. Randy then fixed himself a cup of hot cocoa and smiled to himself as he remembered the incident at the Robes Roses with Cocoa Puffs. Randy then plugged in his small display of Christmas lights in his kitchen window. Going over to the box of Christmas decorations, the young blond man pulled out a trio of small figurines and placed them on his little kitchen table. He then went back to the box and closed it up.
"Sorry, but the rest of you decorations will have to stay in the box this year. Since I'm gonna have to move soon, it doesn't make sense to put the rest of you up. But I will keep Christmas this year, if only in a small way. I always keep Christmas."
Randy then went back to his kitchenette and retrieved his cup of cocoa. He sat at his little table and arranged the decorations he had put on it. There was a little Christmas tree, an angel and a Santa. Finishing the cocoa, Randy then decided to head to bed. He left the Christmas lights on.

Randy was in a deep sleep, snug in a valley of pillows and blankets. Back at his kitchen window, rain beat against the glass and the Christmas lights shone down on the little glittering figurines. Slowly and quietly, the little angel figure began to turn. Then it began to rotate and dance as if someone were playing with it. Then the other two figurines began dancing as well, like in some tabletop ballet, glittering and sparkling in the light. Then the movement stopped and the figurines were again motionless.

A distant door slam came from the building hallway. Randy was in deep sleep and oblivious to the noise. Faint noise began coming from the front door to Randy's apartment. Pressure was gradually being applied to the door from the inside of the apartment, so that it was being forced into the doorjamb, towards the hallway as if something were leaning on it. Anyone now trying to get into the apartment from the hallway would not be able to.

*********

The next morning Randy awoke from a very comforting and refreshing sleep, in his cocoon of blankets he felt warm and secure, almost as if someone had been sleeping with him. His little apartment was chilly and the view outside was dark and cold looking. The weather report on the radio said that some extreme cold had settled into the central and western parts of the nation and the northern Pacific was continuing to hatch a series of storm systems, which continued to target the west coast. Snow had blanketed the mountains around Los Angeles and even sent a dusting of snow as far south as the mountains of northern Baja California.

Randy had gotten up a little early and decided to use the extra time to stop at the Cozy Cup for breakfast before heading to work. The radio reported how unseasonably chilly it was outside so he threw on a hooded sweatshirt over his dress shirt before he put on his heavy jacket. On his way down to the Castro, Randy noted how people in San Francisco really were not used to very cold weather. It looked like people had just grabbed whatever they could to dress for the weather, trudging through the cold rain and wind like refugees.

The day at the office was mostly uneventful until the early afternoon when Beef asked Randy to accompany him to a meeting with an old client. The client owned a bar not far from the office and wanted an immediate meeting the detective to discuss a new development with an old issue. Randy grabbed his empty briefcase and they headed off to the bar. The tavern was a little neighborhood affair, small and narrow, walls decorated with posters for community events, photos and a number of teddy bears arranged behind the bar. The place was strung with Christmas decorations and lights. There was one bartender on duty with a small group of patrons at the bar near the entrance and a lone man sat at the other interior end of the bar. Beyond the interior end of the bar the owner stood near a door; he waved to Beef Matson and beckoned the detective and his assistant towards him. As Beef chatted with the animated owner, Randy stood a few feet away, examining the bar as he waited for his boss. The owner was pressed for time and wanted a quick meeting. Beef suggested that if might help to speed things along if Randy took notes during the meeting. The owner like that idea and then before starting the meeting decided to tell Beef about some new information he had acquired.

The lone man sitting at the interior end of the bar spied Randy and began to speak to him. The man was had balding gray hair and unshaven, with a day or two's growth of grayish beard. The unhappy looking man was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a windbreaker.
"Hey," squawked the man, "I saw you on T.V., you're the guy who molested all those kids!"
The comment was loud and awkward enough to have everyone turn around and turn the bar chatter silent. The man was instantly aware of the attention he was getting and it seemed to spur him on.
"How many kids did you molest?" continued the man, "What was that number…ten or twenty?"
"I did not molest any…" Randy protested.
"Randy…" Beef Matson gently called. The detective motioned with a subtle shaking of his head that the man was not anyone Randy should bother with. The man continued to talk loudly at Randy.
"That's the way it is with you tight ass pretty boys, isn't it?" he continued. "Too stuck up on yourself so you go hunting for little boys."
Beef and the bar owner stopped their conversation with the detective glaring at the man, but the man continued to speak.
"You should just own up to it…that you're a molester, you're a pervert and get it over with." Clearly embarrassed, Randy bit his lip and turned and walked a few steps over to his boss.
"Charlie," the bartender addressed the man, "Why don't you just shut your mouth." The bartender's comment seemed to encourage the man and he continued, even more loudly.
"Hey," the man continued, "It doesn't bother me if you go after little boys, hell, I'd probably go after them too, if I had the chance. The problem I have is that you don't admit to it." Shaking his finger in the direction of Beef and Randy, the man ranted more. "You know what the problem is with guys like you…you think you're pretty good…but all you really are…are perverts. You'd be better off if you just admitted it."
"Hey, Charlie," spoke the bartender again, "You're way overboard here."
The man defiantly continued. "Hey, I'll admit it…I'm a pervert too. That's why I'm still here. I knew a lot of guys…they're all dead from AIDS now. You know why? Because they wouldn't admit to being perverts…they were all trying to be goodie, goodie. They wanted their rights and respect and they wanted to build a community. Well, they're all dead now and I'm not…and you know why? Because I knew I was just a pervert and I that's how I always behaved, so I didn't get no AIDS. You know who should be locked up? Those perverts who think they're normal and want their stupid gay marriage and their gay rights…"
"Charlie! Get your ass out of here, now!" This time the bartender was leaning over the bar with his thumb pointing to the door. Charlie turned and looked at the bartender and shook a finger at him.
"I'm a customer here and you don't talk to me like that! I can get your freakin' ass fired!" Charlie then wanted to speak with the owner who very promptly came to speak with the customer in quiet and stern tones.
"Charlie," said the owner, “I am in the midst of a very trying day and I have precious little patience for one of your little dramas. So what I want you to do is get your butt off my barstool and take your butt out of my bar. You are also blackballed from my bar. There are plenty of other establishments in the neighborhood so you can take your business there. Trust me, if you give me any kind of hassle about this I will be calling the police and I am positive you will probably then smart off to some cop, which will land your sorry ass in jail. So if I were you, I would leave right now."
Charlie arrogantly jerked his body and slid off the barstool and strolled quietly out of the tavern. The bar owner then walked back over to Beef and Randy. The bartender called over to them, "You'll have to excuse Charlie, he just lost a great love."
"Lost a love?" Beef asked of the owner, "His lover?"
The bar owner laughed, "A lover? Oh, right…that would be a laugh. Charlie's only love is himself. He's pretty outspoken about avoiding relationships. A long-term relationship to him is a night in a bathhouse. The great love he just lost…? His cigarettes. Charlie's always been a heavy chain smoker. He just got out of the hospital a few weeks ago, his smoking totally screwed up his lungs and the doctors told him he had to give up smoking his cigarettes…ha! His one true love."
Beef, Randy and the owner then had their meeting. The bar owner was very pleased with the meeting and more than thankful that Matson had agreed to break away from his day to meet with him. The bar owner insisted that the detective accept a gift box of brandy cordials just for making the visit. The bartender tried to comfort Randy as he and Beef left the bar. "Forget about that jerk. That's what happens when smoke from burning leaves becomes more important to somebody than people…that person turns into an idiot." On leaving the bar, it did not take very much of the detective's observational abilities to notice that the experience with the malicious bar patron had left his assistant much embarrassed and hurt.

*********

Gloria and her compatriots were combining a simple breakfast along with Gloria's team briefing. Gloria had allowed for a breakfast of fruit, bagels and some tea and coffee. She would allow the other two women to munch a bit on their food before she would get into her morning address to them. However, she did first want to reveal a new bit of information about the two rooms they were being permitted to use in a church office building. The two offices they were using were on the ground floor and a bit removed from the rest of the building proper, therefore their office suite was rather secluded and the entire building was practically deserted on the weekends. What Gloria had discovered was that a metal door in the outer office, instead being a closet, actually led down to a fallout shelter directly below them. The fallout shelter was probably built in the 1950s and she found it was now just an empty room and being used for nothing and Gloria was ecstatic about this discovery, they now had three rooms instead of two. Of course the room was a empty basement room with no windows and no ventilation except for a vent on the floor in her office…Gloria tapped on a vent near her desk with her foot…they could use the extra space as secure storage while they were using the office space. Much more secure than leaving things in the hotel rooms they had and since no one else hardly ventured down to this part of the building, very private and secure and there was no way to get into the room except the big metal door. Gloria became quiet again and the three woman quietly nibbled on their breakfast. Gloria sat back in the chair behind her desk. Everything seemed to be going so well.

GLORIA

Gloria felt that her life must certainly be blessed, that God must have meant for her to have this success and position of authority. Actually, any blessing from God had far less to do with Gloria's success than her own ambition and her talent in cloaking that ambition as religious fervor. Gloria so successfully identified herself with religious evangelism and church ideals that she would identify anyone opposing her personal ambition as being an obstacle to the goals of the church. Why, anyone who opposed a true servant of the Lord must be opposed the Lord himself. As Gloria grew older and her influence in her church grew, the other church members grew to understand the importance of staying out of the way of Gloria's ambitious juggernaut lest they have their conviction to their faith questioned. Gloria herself knew the difference between her faith and ambition, in fact she was very much aware of the difference. She simply viewed everything else as less important than her personal ambition and felt no guilt whatsoever in using her faith or other people to get what she wanted.

Gloria

Marriages in Gloria's church tended to be somewhat arranged and in Gloria's case, she knew that if she were to acquire more authority, her husband would need to be someone who had stature in the church. And so it was with her first husband, her second and then her current, third husband. Though Gloria was a very vocal supporter of the sanctity of marriage and the family values, she did not apply those standards to her personal life in the same way she demanded those values to be applied to everyone else. When a marriage had outlived its usefulness and began to limit her personal ambition, she began to work at ending it and skillfully portrayed herself as a victim, if not of her husband, than of circumstances.

The second divorce resulted in some ruffled feathers among the church flock, but it was merely an issue of switching to a different congregation and Gloria's influence in her church continued to grow. Her reputation and influence had grown during her third marriage to the point where she no longer needed a church elder as a husband to help her career and ironically this fact helped make the third marriage the longest simply because Gloria was no longer looking for another, more important man for a career assist. However, while Gloria was very successful in career ambitions, her skill with personal relationships was not as good. Cracks were beginning to form in the foundation of her current marriage, and the one person who kept her family together, a son who Gloria had a closer relationship with than her husband and who she tried to keep very tight control over, had left home for college and was now showing some very troubling signs of independence.

While Gloria attempted to deceive others regarding her ambition, there was no self-deception. Gloria regarded the faith she had grown up with as just a tool, like everything and everyone else, to get what she wanted. She had much satisfaction over how much she could get away with and how deceptive she could be. She also gained much satisfaction in dealing with, and punishing those who had been an obstacle in the path of her personal blitzkrieg. Her method had been simple and successful, aggressively pursue what she wanted and then if anyone questioned her motives or goals, Gloria would run behind the robes of Jesus and play the role of innocent while thinking up ways of discrediting and ruining her critics. Secretly, Gloria viewed herself as some predatory sea creature using the shell of a more docile animal to disguise herself while she stalked and then attacked her prey.

If Gloria did have one peccadillo, it was her interest in men. Gloria was not very interested in the company of other women; she found them to be boring and irritating. However, she very much pursued men, especially the younger and milder mannered male members of the church, men who reminded her somewhat of her own son. Gloria, found nothing wrong with this pursuit; she explained it as her need to evangelize and mother these men…all in the context of the church, and she was a very strong believer in the sanctity of marriage, fidelity and so on. Sometimes though, Gloria would forget about spiritual issues and want some young man to address her very personal issues of desire and at these times, Gloria's more aggressive nature would come through and she would attempt to coerce a young man into a relationship. Sometimes these attempts involved threats or intimidation of how Gloria could make life difficult for the young man unless he was more receptive or how Gloria could even accuse the young man of an indiscretion, and being a woman, everyone would believe her and not him. None of these attempts on Gloria's part were fruitful, they just resulted in whispers among church members that young men should keep their distance from Gloria and Gloria's efforts to conduct religious discussions for young male church members were quietly discouraged by the church.

In spite of the what some church members considered minor eccentricities, Gloria's outspoken conservative religious views plus her hardnosed ways of getting things done and dealing with people got her referred to some conservative business owners who wanted to 'reengineer' their employees. Simply put, the business owners wanted to get rid of undesirable employees such as those who might be members of minority groups, too liberal or pro-union, higher paid older employees, homosexuals and so on and replace them with a much younger, cheaper and conservative group of employees. Gloria produced great results in this effort and she made her rounds of several companies and thoroughly enjoyed her work. The process was simple, Gloria would be introduced to the employees as a coordinator with no connection to management (though she was actually working closely with the personnel department), and it would soon be apparent be apparent to the other employees that going against any of Gloria's wishes would result in being written up for insubordination. Employees also found disagreeing with Gloria's conservative views on politics, religion and civil rights would have the same result. And the company of course would distant itself from Gloria, that she was merely another employee with her own viewpoint, yet it was clear that Gloria had more authority than just another employee. Gloria would also ingratiate with women employees, that she was their friend and champion. Gloria was very successful with this tactic. Often she would encourage an outspoken woman employee to stand her ground and aggressively demand satisfaction from the company. Then after the woman would leave her office, Gloria would get on the phone to the proper authorities know that the woman was about to make a stand and the microphones and witnesses should be on the ready. Shortly after her meeting with Gloria, the woman employee would be terminated, never suspecting Gloria had any part in it and even thinking of Gloria as a confidant afterward.

The process of eliminating homosexual employees was similar. Gloria would innocently inquire as to who were the gay employees in a feigned show of concern and diversity. Then she would inquire about how involved these employees were with gay issues. After that, harassment would be directed towards the gay employees and some would be terminated for being confrontational, or others might be terminated for using employee email to contact gay organizations. On lesbian was terminated for using company email for political purposes after she innocently told Gloria that she was on the email list of a gay organization. Gloria would take a special interest in the younger, attractive gay male employees to the point of shamelessly stalking the stalking the poor men and even feeling she had the right to grab a feel now and then. The men would complain to personnel and were not given any satisfaction or even allowed to file a complaint regarding Gloria's behavior. They were simply told that Gloria was only displaying her motherly instincts. The company even suggested that the men identify themselves as bisexual and learn to suppress their homosexual side. The gay men later either quit or were terminated.

A problem began to occur when Gloria's sexually predatory tendencies began to surface at one company where there weren't any gay men for her to prey upon. Instead, on she focused on her preferred prey of young, mild mannered Christian men. While the company would allow to stalk gay men, this type of behavior could obviously not be allowed towards straight, Christian men, particularly when one of the young men had made an audio tape of Gloria's advances. So Gloria was quietly relieved from her position at the company and quietly put to work at another company.

By the late 1990s, when the Internet bubble was bursting, the conservative companies that had made use of Gloria no longer had use of her talents. Companies were no longer interested in having the right kind of employees, they didn't want to have very many employees at all, so even the white bread, young and low paid employees were being laid off. However, corporate clients had given Gloria many satisfied referrals and she was given an offer of a job in the political arena.

Some right wing interests were very interested in setting up an organization, which would target the gay community, its organizations, businesses and individuals with the intention of devastating the gay community and rendering it politically inert. One part of this organization would be dedicated to tracking the gay presence on the Internet and attempting to disrupt it by using such tools as viruses, worms and denial of service attacks and through ordinary means such as finding and identifying gay sites and groups on the web and filing a lot of complaints about them. This tactic was used very effectively against gay merchants on eBay and against gay groups on Yahoo and MSN.
The second part of the anti-gay organization was directed against anything that wasn't on the Internet, usually against well-known figures in the gay community with the intent to cause as much scandal and embarrassment as possible. The organization acted as a clearing house for assembling information regarding gay people and decided who to direct a campaign against and in what way to wage it, be it dirty tricks, lawsuits, spreading misinformation, rumors or whatever. This was the part of the organization that Gloria became associated with and utilized her talents as 'coordinator'. Gloria truly embraced this new job not only for the travel and authority it involved but also for the thrill it gave the predatory part of her nature.

Gloria brushed a crumb from her lower lip and addressed her teammates. She gave them a brief report on how well she thought their efforts were going so far along and handed out some assignments. Gloria even allowed for some feedback from her compatriots. The other two women were concerned about having Bessie work with them, even if it were only to gather information from the lawyer Berry Starr. Bessie has a reputation of being a bit aggressive in terms of stalking women. Gloria reassured the other two women that she could keep Bessie under control plus the information she could provide them on Randy Hardwicke's legal team and the detective Beef Matson, would be invaluable. Gloria smiled a regal smile. "Bessie's previous handler made some mistakes. We won't repeat those mistakes." Gloria smiled again, crinkling her face. "Bessie is a woman with stunted emotional growth, she never past beyond the stage of needing mothering. As long as she gets her fix of mothering, she will be willing to spy on her friends and anything else we need her to do as long as we give her a little mothering. But that's all she will get from us." Gloria encouraged her team members to look upon Bessie with sympathy, after all, what man would want Bessie, perhaps if the woman lost some weight and dressed less masculine, she could be refocused on men. Then Gloria pulled out a folder from one of her desk drawers. The folder was marked with Bessie's name. Out of the folder Gloria pulled a sheet of paper. It was a poem titled 'Republican Woman' and it had been written and signed by Bessie for the woman she had once surprised in the shower. The poem spoke of Bessie's affection for the woman and her undying loyalty to her and her conservative principles. The other two women in Gloria's team read the poem. "This is disgusting," said one of the women, "Plus it's really horrible poetry."
"Of course it's horrible," replied Gloria, "but it's valuable just the same. If this little horrible piece of poetry were to be distributed…why dear Bessie's lap licking lady friends would disown her when they discover how tight she is with us and it would also identify Bessie as a sexual predator. So with this valuable piece of blackmail in my possession, I think it will be a simple matter to keep Bessie under control."

Gloria then reminded her coworkers that in their work against the homosexuals they would sometimes have to partner with people that might not have the same standards they had. She revealed how a man involved with their organization who was also connected with the military, a man she would only refer to as 'the general', had referred a woman to Gloria. This woman had many connections with various women’s groups and was willing to help Gloria in her harassment campaign against Randy Hardwicke and Beef Matson. Gloria related how the woman shared her views about gay men, that gay men should be forced to take wives and go straight. The woman related how this had been done in Sparta, in ancient Greece. Then the woman began to voice some strange opinions. How the customs of ancient Sparta should be applied to modern culture, particularly towards girls. How girls in ancient times exercised until they looked just like boys, how they exercised so much that sometime girls breasts failed to develop, how young girls would be forced to have sex with each other to turn men so that they would keep from going gay. Then the woman told Gloria how women in ancient Sparta would take young girls as lovers while being married to a man. Gloria told how she just nodded let the woman prattle on with her views. The woman did dislike homosexuals immensely but she seemed to have a disturbing desire to remold girls until they were just boys who were able to have children. Then the woman began to describe a species of monkey in which all individuals were constantly having sex with each other regardless of age, gender, or if it was a close family member. The other two women gave Gloria their expressions of displeasure. "People are not monkeys…does she actually encourage sex among family members…?" said one woman. "The general's lady friend seems to have one or two screws loose," said the other. Gloria made a motion with her hand to quiet the other two ladies. "Of course, this woman's a bit off. It's obvious she is attempting to hide her interest in young girls though these vague notions of sexuality. You know, if everybody's having sex with everybody else, no one will notice that she is molesting young girls. Now of course we cannot afford to alienate the general, with the amount of resources he is directing to our group…that would be foolish. Like the general says, the military keeps an eye on the homosexuals almost as much as they do terrorists…if the homosexuals knew how much the military security is keeping an eye on them, the homosexual community would just give up. So we don't want to do anything to disturb that. But at the same time we do not have to embrace this woman's silly views. She apparently wants to turn the country into a military boot camp and we'd all end up doing calisthenics every morning. Like Bessie, we will let her help us and then, when we are finished with this project, we will let the information we gather on this woman get passed on to the proper authorities. The general's lady friend has already told me how involved she is with a number of young girl's groups…and I can imagine what mischief she may be causing. So I have already passed her name on to the proper groups so she can be properly observed."

Finally, Gloria revealed that a man they knew Larry, would be working with them again as an operative, doing surveillance and helping to arrange dirty tricks. Gloria related that Larry's help would be very appreciated. "That is," she added sarcastically, "If he doesn't fall off the wagon." Gloria then ended the meeting by leading the women in a short prayer.

LARRY

Larry Doolan's involvement with the anti-homosexual group came after a couple decades of personal decline. Larry's teenaged hard drinking along with his fighting and vandalism was regarded by his parents as manly; they didn't want to have a sissy as a son. Larry's drinking became worse during his military service, though it was hardly noticed. After his term of service was up, it appeared that Larry would have a promising career in electronics and got a job at a research lab. He married and had a couple of kids. Then Larry began to add hard drugs to his personal list of abused substances. He had experimented in high school and in the military, now he began to use in earnest, primarily cocaine. In the years following, Larry lost jobs easily and had a hard time finding new ones. His friendships began to suffer; he stole from his friends, his elderly parents, his wife and his two children. Though he had chosen a long-suffering and devoted wife, his marriage began to strain and warp from the stress of his addictions. His wife became the primary source of income for their relationship and then there were the separations, and finally a divorce. Without his wife and having alienated his family, Larry's life plummeted to the very bottom. He was able to get enough money through temporary and day labor for the drugs, though sometimes he would steal and then get into trouble with the police. How high he would feel when he got stoned, and how belligerent and aggressive he would become and he would get into still more trouble with the police.

Finally, a judge gave him an ultimatum, get clean and stay clean for a very long period of time or face a serious jail term. So Larry got involved with a faith-based recovery program. The people involved with the program seem to be just as interested in Larry converting to their church as getting him off drugs, so Larry became involved with their church, if only because it added structure to his life. By that time Larry's life was such a soupy mess, it was very easy to let others make decisions for him. It was very strongly suggested that if Larry wanted the church's continuing assistance, he should become involved with and marry an older woman member of the church and he did. Though Larry was only in his forties, the years of substance abuse had left a physical mark, with graying hair and a lined, gaunt look to his face, so he looked older. Still, it was obvious to others that his wife was much older than he. This really didn't matter to Larry. His wife merely wanted a husband for show so theirs was a platonic relationship; in Larry's mind he referred to his wife as 'mother' or 'granma'. Plus if he maintained the relationship and stayed clean from drugs and booze the church would guarantee him employment.

And so it was that Larry became involved with the right wing anti-gay organization. This was an easy fit for Larry. Like his parents, Larry had a strong dislike for certain ethnic groups and homosexuals. When Larry was high, he felt even more studly and masculine then he knew he already was. However, as his life began to slide due to his drug use, those periods of feeling like he was the studly king of the world would be followed by long periods of being confined with the very ethnic groups he disliked. Suddenly he was locked in a room with drunks and dope heads of different ethnic groups; suddenly he was faced with the reality he was on the very same level as everyone else. During the later years of his addiction he would sometimes go to gay clubs to try and pick up on some drugs. Though Larry never got into prostitution, he thought his masculine looks would somehow encourage the gay guys to give him drugs or lead him to some cheap deals. Usually Larry ended up being thrown out of gay clubs and there were stinging memories of times when he would be sitting on the sidewalk outside a gay club, messed up and having the gay men he despised so, make disparaging comments about him as they passed by.

So Larry's hatred of homosexuals, and the church's and the organization's hatred of homosexuals made for a very good fit indeed. The only minor problem was with the new coordinator Gloria. When Larry first met Gloria, she deliberately rubbed her thigh against his. When Larry did not respond at all, Gloria decided she did not like Larry. Larry did not consider this a big loss since he decided that Gloria had the face of a horse. He did, however, find Gloria's teammates attractive and they also liked to rub against him.

The organization made use of Larry's knowledge of electronic devices and put him to work on their dirty tricks squad, which had him snooping on individuals and occasionally doing something, which would cause some disruption. For instance, one assignment had Larry releasing a cage of mice into the office of a liberal political candidate. Then Gloria, feigning concern, called a woman she knew in the candidate’s office just to 'see how things were going'. The woman reported to Gloria that the office had become overrun with mice and everyone was coming down with some respiratory ailment, probably brought in by the mice. Gloria, in an effort to sow the seeds of discontent would then express her further concern that the liberal candidate simply did not care about his workers enough to provide a healthy work environment. Even though Gloria and Larry were not fond of each other, they still could work well in tandem.

Whether it was the years of substance abuse or just an intrinsic part of his personality, Larry Doolan had a dark side. A very dark side. Larry had developed a very strong, unreasoning hatred of gay men. The church he belonged to and the organization he worked for openly encouraged hatred of homosexuals and were glib about it, embracing the hatred as if it were something exhilarating. So however Larry felt about gay men, his feelings were bolstered. Often, the organization had Larry observing gay clubs or keeping an eye on individuals at gay clubs. Gradually, Larry began to develop a resentment, first that he even had to keep an eye on people he considered beneath him, and then secondly, some envy began to creep in. How the gay men always seemed to be happy when they partied at the clubs, how they were associating and apparently sleeping with whoever they wanted to, and how the men at the clubs seemed to have a lot of money for drinks, nice clothes and for the nice cars they drove. He also knew some of the gay men were using drugs.

If he, Larry Doolan, had the money, the looks, the cars that these men had…he wouldn't be wasting it on other men. He would nail every woman he could, no woman would be safe…and he wouldn't be stuck with a woman who looked like she could be his mother. And the drinking and the drugs…these guys didn't know nothing about partying. If he just had the money these guys had, he would know how to use it…but Larry couldn't. Otherwise his job and everything…would be gone.

Often Larry's assignments would take him out of town and require that he work alone. On one such assignment, away from his home, Larry found he was not completely alone; the nagging companions of temptation and craving were with him. Again, the anger welled up inside him. If he had the looks, the body, the money that some of the fags had…
Much later that night, Larry found a small, neighborhood gay bar. He parked his rental car about a block away and walked to the alley behind the bar. He found a concrete block in the alley and some wood boards. There were some cars in the parking lot next to the bar but the neighborhood was quiet and deserted. Larry put a large wooden two by four he had found in the alley on the ground near the bar's entrance. He then grabbed a concrete block and waited in the shadows holding the block. He was patient. Finally, a young man came out of the bar alone. The young man was fairly good looking, his hair neatly coifed and he wore a nice looking leather jacket. The young man paused for a second, watching his breath make bright white clouds in the cold just after midnight air. Then the young man began to hum some song and turned to walk to his car, his back towards Larry.

Larry, quietly and quickly, walked up behind the young man with the concrete block and slammed it into the young man's upper back. The man fell forward onto the pavement with just breath, no sound, escaping from his mouth. The young man muttered a very quiet, "Oh," and attempted to turn himself over. Larry very quickly discarded the concrete block and retrieved the two by four. He returned to the young man and struck him with the board, again and again in the face. The blows were hard and sharp and the young man offered no resistance. Still Larry continued, the only changing his strikes to hit the young man's torso as well as his head. The entire incident was relatively silent and the neighborhood was unaware of it. Larry turned back to the alley and quickly left, throwing the board over a fence and returning to his rental car.

About twenty minutes later when another patron left the bar, the young man was discovered and then rushed to a hospital. Along with numerous broken ribs, a punctured lung and a fractured skull, the young man's face was pulverized. The young man would require much reconstructive surgery and he would never fully recover.

Larry would find other gay men, mostly young, outside other gay bars, in other cities where he happened to be on assignment. His attacks, both in operation and violence would be nearly the same. Yet no one had any clue that the very random attacks in different cities around the country were connected or perpetrated by the same assailant. As he had destroyed a large part of his own life, Larry was now destroying other lives, one at a time.

*********
"…you can be such a bitch sometimes!"

Berry and Bobbi were in the kitchen of their home in the early evening, the blue glow of dusk visible through the sliding glass doors, which led to a patio beyond. Their kitchen had a cozy country feel to it with rough cedar paneling and deep blue and green patterned curtains on the windows. Lights over the sink and the stove cast warm shadows through the room. Bobbi was tending to several pots on the stove like some ancient alchemist. Two kettles of simmering fruit preserves gave the air a sweet, spicy scent and a pot of chili lent the air it's own heavy, salty perfume. After a couple attempts to sample the preserves, and being chased away by Bobbi, Berry sat at the kitchen table with the day's mail which included a couple of anonymous hate letters which condemned her for representing Randy Hardwicke as well as for being a lesbian.

Bobbi and Berry

One of their cats, Mr. Jingles shared a shelf with some large knick-knacks and lay there observing Berry's activities from his vantage point near the ceiling. Bobbi began to make thin slices from a couple of celery stalks and place them into the steaming chili.
"Coffee's done," announced Bobbi.
Fetching a coffee mug from a kitchen cabinet and pouring some cream into it, Berry made a suggestion, "How 'bout a little bowl of that wonderful chili?"
"The chili's for the card party tonight, dear…why don't you have a pear, or maybe a bagel and some cream cheese?", responded Bobbi.

"Hmmm…uh, no," was Berry's disappointed reply as she sat down again at the kitchen table and began to go through the mail. "Where'd you get all the fruit for the preserves?", inquired Berry.
"From Mrs. Yamamoto, down the street," answered Bobbi. "Her son has a truck farm and he gave her boxes of strawberries that she could never use all by herself. So she came over and asked me if I would like to have some flats of strawberries…though she made me promise to make a couple of jars of preserves for her and her husband. Fair deal, I thought and then I would have even more fruit for the jelly jars we give out for Christmas. I'm also using the currents from our back yard to make current jelly."
"How can you make jelly from those sour things?", asked Berry.
"With sugar, silly…" replied Bobbi, "Currents make an excellent tart flavored jelly."
"Still, I don't see how anybody would want to eat those things."
"Mrs. Yamamoto told me that when she was a little girl, her family sold fruit at a roadside stand and lots of people would stop to buy little baskets of currents, red and golden. People would put them on cereal."
Berry looked up at Bobbi with an arched eyebrow and muttered, "More power to them…", and continued to shuffle through the mail.
Berry and Bobbi's other cat, the Lady Astrid, quietly made her way up to the shelf to join Mr. Jingles. She paused on the shelf momentarily, sitting upright, then began to spread herself over the shelf and pushing against Mr. Jingles. Suddenly Astrid began pawing at Jingles's behind and the other cat suddenly found the front part of his body over thin air. Flaying his front legs in the air, Mr. Jingles decided to save himself by doing an unceremonious leap. The dark colored cat leaped down onto a kitchen chair hitting the back of the chair which then slammed against the wall. Mr. Jingles then fell into the seat of the chair and the chair's legs banged down against the floor. Jingles scampered onto the floor and sat down next to Bobbi. Berry and Bobbi turned to the direction of the commotion.
"The kids are at it again," Bobbi commented.
Berry looked up at the cream colored Astrid, now sitting upright and looking around innocently as if nothing had happened.
"She just did that just to get Jingles off the shelf. Watch…I bet she won't stay there now that she's knocked him off."
"The Lady Astrid was just doing a gravity test with Mr. Jingles. Wasn't she, Mr. Jingles," Bobbi smiled down at the cat. "The Lady Astrid pushes Mr. Jingles off the shelf and down goes Mr. Jingles…yes, everything's o.k. gravity is still working."
"Like Astrid likes to test gravity with the books in my office," observed Berry.
The Lady Astrid paused for a few seconds longer and then lost interest in the shelf. She scampered down daintily and sat in the middle of the kitchen floor.
"See…see! announced Berry, "I knew she wouldn't stay there. She just wanted to knock Mr. Jingles off the shelf. Honestly Astrid, you can be such a bitch sometimes!"
Astrid lingered, ignoring Berry's comments and flickering her tail in the air. Then confident that she had made her royal presence known in the kitchen, the Lady Astrid strolled off to the living room, brushing against Mr. Jingles on her way out. Astrid would go to her favorite napping chair and rest, saving her energy for her middle of the night game of chase the imaginary mouse.

Calm returned to the kitchen with Bobbi tending to her kettles, Berry once again going through the mail and Mr. Jingles silently returning to his former position on the shelf. Bobbi resumed the couple's casual conversation.
"Bessie called today…she wanted come over and visit with us," reported Bobbi. Berry put a letter back on the table and looked over to Bobbi.
"You told her no…right?” queried Berry.
"Of course," reassured Bobbi.
"That woman called at the office a couple of times today…” related Berry "She's determined to pay us a social visit."
"So she can pump us for information about the Randy case?” asked Bobbi.
"What other reason could there be? answered Berry, "She'll lose interest in us as soon this business with Randy is over. Unless of course, I get involved with some other case her sweet right wing lady friends are interested in. Then Bessie will decide she needs to visit with us and ask all kinds of little questions about the case I am working on."
"How did you come to meet Bessie?" asked Bobbi.
"I know Bessie from way back, when I first came out…the granola days," recalled Berry. "You know, back in the days of earth shoes, sandals, flowing dresses, incense and long hair."
"And flowers in your hair…?"
"Hmmm…sometimes. There were a group of women I used to hang out with when I first came out. There were some women I knew from some groups I belonged to and some women I met from a bar I used to be a regular at. I don't remember exactly how, but Bessie drifted in somewhere along the line and used to hang out with us. Since then, gosh…some women moved to other parts of the country, everybody else is around the Bay area somewhere, I think you know most of them. Of course, there's Bessie and one woman in our group died."
"Died…?", asked Bobbi, "Who was she?"
"Ohh…", recalling Berry, "She was a heavy set woman. Back then some women regarded being overweight as a political statement…that by purposely disregarding the popular image of what a woman should look like, for instance, being kind of on the heavyset side, was liberating and…political."
"Obesity is a medical problem, not a political statement," commented Bobbi.
"Gosh, that's funny… I can't think of her name now…" continued Berry. "I think it was Sherry or something like that. Anyway, you're right. Her weight had nothing to do with a political statement. She just continued to put on more weight. She lived in a third floor walk up apartment and it was such a struggle for her to climb the stairs to her place that a group of us found her a first floor apartment and moved her in there. Still, she continued to gain weight like crazy, to the point she couldn't work anymore and went on disability."
"Becoming disabled because of your weight is not a political statement," added Bobbi.
"Anyway, Sherry…I think that was her name…even had a couple of minor heart attacks but she refused to take her problem seriously and continued to put on weight. And she began to become more demanding of everyone around her, wanting us to get things for her, regardless of our own obligations. Like Sherry called one of our group up and wanted her to run to the store for her to get some cookies and cigarettes…instead of going to pick her kids up from school. She was really insistent about it…forget about your kids, I want my cookies and cigarettes."
"Some people become morbidly obese out of narcissism and a desire to manipulate others," lectured Bobbi. "They feel they have the right to do anything they want, regardless of the consequences…like a chronic reckless driver. If something bad does happen because of their actions, they feel other people have an obligation to fix things for them. Making yourself disabled through obesity may be a way to manipulate others. The truly narcissist and manipulative person would get a rush just from getting someone to ignore their own more important issues to deal with the person's minor issues, like this woman wanting one of her friends to forget about her children and get her cookies and cigarettes instead."
"Sherry would call me a couple or more times a week just to complain about her aches and pains…" Berry continued, “Gosh…especially her legs and feet. I would try to tell her that what her body was telling her is that she should get herself to a doctor and find a way to get rid of some weight. Some of our little group even talked with her parents…and they told us how much they tried to get Sherry to get serious about losing weight, but had no luck. Whenever our group of friends would talk to Sherry about her weight issues, she would accuse us of accepting some male agenda of what a woman should look like. She thought that if she could just get some medicine and pain pills from a doctor, her weight shouldn't be a problem. The last time I saw her, she could barely get out of a chair, she had sores on her legs and you could see dark outlines of veins all over her legs. Her legs had even bowed out so she was just about walking on her ankles. She ended up being rushed to the hospital by rescue squad sometime after that. I think she was in the hospital for about a week and she passed away. I think her kidneys and liver failed. I guess she was only about 38."
"Very sad…but you did all you could do," commented Bobbi. "Now getting back to Bessie," continued Bobbi as she fussed with her pots of preserves, "When did she start to waltz with the religious right wing?"
"Oh…" said Berry, "Well, I guess she was always waltzing with the right wing. Back in the good old days when I was so much younger…"
"Please, you're no doddering grandma."
"Anyway, when I was younger…and had just come out, our group of friends including Bessie, used to go to whatever gay festivals there were. It was so unbelievably nice to go out with a group of women who weren't guy crazy and constantly pointing out just about every man and going, 'Omigawd, look at that guy, look at that guy!'" Berry made exaggerated gestures with her hands. "It was so wonderful to be able to, just for once, point out a woman to one of my friends and say 'Isn't she beautiful?"
"I must have been walking by," smiled Bobbi as she ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head.
Berry smiled back. "Thinking back, I guess I should have noticed that Bessie had issues about being gay, not for herself but with other people. The first time she came along to a gay festival it was like she had an issue with the pride aspect of the event, like everybody being happy about being gay made her uneasy. Same sex couples holding hands in public did not go down with her very well either. Then the first time she saw some guys dressed in leather…that really blew her mind. She didn't like that at all…very angry. Then another time she saw a woman dressed in leather…ooh, I thought she was going to pop a cork. Then there were other occasions, I don't remember exactly when or where, but she problems with dykes on bikes, she didn't care for women dressing in leather and riding motorcycles. Then she had a problem with lipstick lesbians, she felt that if a lesbian wanted to dress up in a nice dress and use makeup, a she should make every effort to go straight."
"Were there any gay people she did like?" asked Bobbi.
"Good question…I got the impression that what Bessie thought was a good lesbian was a woman who would dress sort of butch or country, keep very quiet about her sexuality and stay out of sight. Plus I seemed to get the impression that she felt that only a very small number of woman should be allowed to be a lesbian."
"Doesn't she have a lover…?"
"There is a woman who lives with her that she refers to as her 'friend'. Bessie would occasionally bring her along to our outings years ago. A little mousy woman that never really talked much, but then again, Bessie liked to do all the talking."
"None of her behavior ever made you suspicious that she was chummy with the right wing?"
"Well, lots of people take a long time to deal with their issues of self-hatred and guilt when they go through the process of coming out. I thought that was the case with Bessie, but gradually I did start thinking something was not right."
"Okay, how so?"
"Bessie had been hanging out with our group for years, so I would think that's ample time to get your stuff together. We took Bessie along to a gay country dance…in fact, I think it was about a year before the two of us met…well, people two-step and slow dance at a country dance. Well, I thought slow dancing was a marvelous concept, especially when it involved two women and everybody in our group was really getting into it and dancing…except for Bessie. It was a thing like she just sat at our table and she was getting really, really pissed. We finally found out that she didn't like the idea of two women slow dancing…that if we wanted to slow dance, we should do it with a man."
"Talk about being a wet blanket."
"Tell me about it…Bessie did develop an incredible talent to be offended by just about everything…it was like trying to party with a grade school hall monitor. She didn't like gay men at all…so when Bessie tagged along with our group, we couldn't go to any place there might be a lot of gay men at or Bessie would be kind of grumpy. Actually, there were lesbians at the time who thought it was fashionable to hate gay men…they felt that it made them more butch and studly to say they hated fags…so I thought Bessie wasn't acting any different from some other dykes. Bessie really got into hating gay men; you know…that gay men deserved AIDS and the whole nine yards. She got into hating gay men way too much…I thought like why…what's the point…they're homosexual, we're homosexual. Then one day she calls me up and wants to enlist me in trying to cause problems for some gay guy. Some church lady Bessie knew was trying to convert the guy to some fundamentalist church and the guy didn't want to. So Bessie was trying to drum up support among lesbians to punish him by making all kinds of trouble for this poor guy. I thought then…why would she even think I would want to do this…why should she want to do this…especially for some right wing fundamentalist?"
"I guess we finally knew about her when we found out she was passing on information about your cases to the other side," commented Bobbi.
"Yes, we finally found out…" confirmed Berry, "You know, your chili doesn't smell right."
"What…?" replied Bobbi indignantly.
“You might want to give me a bowl of it so I could tell you if it's alright."
"Oh, is that it…" smirked Bobbi, "You'll get a bowl during the card party."
Then the lawyer began to relate anecdotes of her bad experiences during the days she worked as a contract worker. Grumpily she continued relating how she had been mistreated during those years, working long hours and being more productive than the permanent workers only to have her contract ended immediately once the company found out she was gay. Other women workers who were demanding Berry should find herself a boyfriend, still other women who would treat her as second class once they found out that she was a lesbian and still others would seemed to think lesbians should be regarded as slaves to straight women. And yet other straight women who felt Berry should somehow find them a gay boyfriend since they thought having a gay boyfriend would be the most ideal thing of all. Bobbi kept tending to her pots and making short comments to her partner. Finally Bobbi had enough. Berry was still rattling on, looking down at the last letter in the pile on the table, a bill. Bobbi placed a steaming and aromatic bowl of her chili in front of Berry. It was on a plate lined with crackers and Bobbi placed a dollop of sour cream on top of the mahogany colored brew. Berry stopped chatting.
"Oh, bless your heart, sweetums," said Berry and gave Bobbi a short tender kiss.
"By the way," added Bobbi, "I went shopping today and picked up a pair of pajamas for our Christmas party."
"What do they look like?"
"Silly, but still sexy…I'll give you a show later."
Berry smiled up at Bobbi and sampled the soup. "I lied about the chili…it smells incredible and I think this is the best yet. Oh…I will give these two charming hate letters to our detective friend Mr. Matson. Let me know if we get any more. Beef also said to keep a lookout for anyone snooping around our house. Bobbi walked behind Berry and put her arms around her and nuzzled the back of her head.
obscured. The man put the binoculars; a camera and a note pad into vinyl case beside him and drove away.

Chapter Six - Someone To Watch Over Me

"If there's a will missing and it's your dead rich Uncle Fred's, don't look for it yourself, call me instead."

Beef Matson was making a point in taking an active role in his employee's emotional health. It was obvious that Randy Hardwicke must be under a lot of pre