by Nic Saint
“Oh, all right!” Calvin cried. “But I’ll have to run it past the uncles first. Can’t go around changing two-hundred-year companies on a whim.”
“It’s not a whim! I’m a daughter, not a son! So the old name is null and void from now on. Or else I’m walking straight out of here.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” he said. “We have more important things to deal with right now. We still haven’t decided what to do about Detective Munroe.”
“Is he really the senator’s nephew?” asked Lucien.
“Yes, he is. That part wasn’t a lie. And it’s also true that Chief Whitehouse said to make allowances for him. Which puts us right back to square one.” He then cast a curious eye at me. “Say, why don’t you have a word with the detective?”
“She just had a word with the detective, if you hadn’t noticed,” said Brice. “Word was that he was going to arrest you guys next time you meet.”
“He’s right,” I said. “He was pretty clear about it.”
But Calvin was still giving me that look. “You’re a woman, right?”
I huffed out an incredulous, “I’m glad you noticed!”
“I mean, you’re a woman and Detective Munroe is a man.”
I narrowed my eyes at my brother. “I think you better stop talking now, Calvin.”
“No, I mean, I’ve seen the way he was looking at you.”
“With absolute disdain, you mean?”
Calvin suddenly produced a wide smile. “I think he likes you.”
“No, he does not! He just threatened to arrest me!”
“If I’d have told that cop he’s got a stick up his butt he’d have arrested me on the spot. But when you told him, he just grinned.”
“He didn’t grin. He…” I frowned. “Well, maybe he grinned a little. But it wasn’t a happy grin. More like a…”
“An unhappy grin?” Lucien suggested.
“I think next time we meet Detective Munroe, you should put the moves on him,” said Calvin, reaching a conclusion.
I gawked at him. “Put the moves on him?! Are you out of your mind?!” My voice had skipped an octave and had gone straight into the register only dogs can hear. Dogs and my brother, who I was starting to think was a dog, too.
“You mean she has to seduce the cop?” asked Dalton.
“That’s usually what put the moves on a person means, Dalton,” said Calvin irritably.
They all turned to me, then a mutinous look came over Lucien. “I’m putting my foot down. This is… this is…” His face had taken on a scarlet hue. “This is prostitution and I’m not having it!”
“Don’t worry, honey,” I said, giving his arm a squeeze. “I wouldn’t even think about doing anything as humiliating and outright demented as that. Have you lost your mind?” I asked, raising my voice.
Calvin shrugged. “I just thought if he likes you, and you like him, it would solve all of our problems, right?”
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong. He doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him.”
“He is kinda cute, though, wouldn’t you say?” asked Lucien. “All big and buff and broad and all. He’s got that whole he-man thing going for him.”
“He’s not that big,” said Dalton. “I’ll bet if he takes his clothes off he’s not even ripped. Just all bulk and no definition.”
“You think so?” asked Lucien, his eyes wide.
“Sure. I’ve got an eye for stuff like that. X-ray vision, so to speak.”
“X-ray vision,” said Lucien slowly, closing his eyes and licking his lips.
“I thought he looked just like Hugh Jackman,” said Brice. “Real stage presence, if you know what I mean. Walks into a room and all eyes turn to him.”
“Look, I don’t care what he looks like underneath his clothes or what actor he resembles,” said Calvin. “I just know he’s impeding our investigation and we need to figure something out.” He directed a pleading glance at me, placing his hands together as if in prayer. “Please do your best to appease the man, sis. I don’t want you to seduce him or anything, but you’re the best chance we’ve got to make this work. I’ve been doing this job for six years. I know people, and I know he likes you, whether you realize it or not. So please please please, next time you see him, spread some of that quirky charm of yours and fix this.”
I pressed my lips together and crossed my arms. “No way. If you want to charm Detective Munroe, do it yourself.” And I stalked out of the room, my chin high and my honor intact. Who did Calvin think he was? My pimp? No way was I going to let him use me to ‘appease’ this uncouth and arrogant cop. Not a chance.
Chapter 10
I watched as Calvin rang the bell at Marelda Morato’s place. We hadn’t exchanged a word in the car. Calvin was mad with me for deliberately misrepresenting his intentions, as he called it, and I was mad at him for trying to set me up with this cop. If this was the way Karma Corps expected the first Diffley woman to join the company to act, my career would be very short-lived.
“Oh, come on,” Calvin said finally. “Don’t be like that. I only meant—”
“You only meant to pimp me out. I get it.” I poked his chest with my finger. “And if this is what being a Diffley is all about, count me out, pal.”
“But it’s not! I just meant use some of that charm of yours.”
“That’s not what you said before. You told me to seduce him.”
“That was a misunderstanding. I would never do such a thing. Are you nuts? My little sister? I’d rather chop off my foot than suggest such a thing. But if you like this guy anyway, and he likes you…” He shrugged, his meaning clear.
“For the last time, I don’t like him and he doesn’t like me, all right?”
“He likes you,” he said with infuriating certainty. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”
The door opened, cutting off my scathing reply, and a woman with a lot of hair appeared. Her apartment was in one of those slightly rundown buildings where the super can’t be bothered to pick up the trash in the hallways, or fix the leaks in the ceiling. In other words: a dump.
“Hi, are you Marelda Morato?” asked Calvin, cranking up the charm and giving her his best smile.
She thrust out a shapely hip. “Who’s asking?”
“Calvin Diffley. Diffley & Sons—”
“—and daughter.”
“—and company. We’re checking up on an insurance claim for Mariana Piney.”
The woman’s eyebrows shot up into an expression of sorrow. “Poor Mariana. Come on in. Insurance, huh? I thought you were police or something.”
“Oh, no,” Calvin assured her. “Do we look like police? No way.”
I rolled my eyes as I followed him in.
Marelda was a big woman, and not just her hair, either. She had a round face, round body and round curves all over. She was definitely all woman, no doubt about it. The only part of her that hinted at her past as a man was her voice, which was deep and rumbling, sort of like a drill sergeant.
“Sit,” she ordered us when we’d reached the living room.
Calvin and I glanced down at the couch, which was covered with magazines, ranging from Cosmo to Glamour to All You, Women’s World, In Touch Weekly and Oprah Magazine.
“I like to read,” said Marelda, following our gaze. She stalked over, shoved a bunch of magazines out of the way, and gestured to the couch. “Sit.”
So we sat.
Marelda snapped up a box of Kleenex and loudly blew her nose. “I can’t imagine Mariana is gone. She was my soulmate. My best friend. My twin sister.”
“Wait, you were sisters?” asked Calvin.
She directed a scathing look at him. “Spiritual sisters. She was my sister from another mister.”
“Another mister?”
I gave Calvin a kick against the shin. It felt good. “It’s a saying. Like brother from another mother?”
“Don’t think I’ve heard it before,” he said.
“Well maybe you should read some good stuff instead
of all those boring books you like to lug around.”
“Good stuff?”
“Yeah.” I picked up a copy of Oprah Magazine. “Here. Read this.”
He stared at the cover. “Swimsuits that make everything better,” he murmured. “Jeans that make you look ten pounds thinner. Interesting.”
“Listen to Oprah,” Marelda said, giving me a grateful nod. “Oprah knows. Oprah is God.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go as far as—ouch!” He glowered at me. “You have got to stop doing that!” he hissed.
“If you stop acting like a jerk!” I hissed back.
“You two are funny,” said Marelda. “Are you sure you’re insurance agents? I’ve seen insurance agents. Insurance agents be dead serious. And annoying as crap.”
“We’re a family firm,” I said with a tight smile. “We like to apply the personal touch.”
She sighed. “The fact that Mariana chose you to represent her tells me y’all must be good people. Mariana knew people. She was a people person.”
“Amy at TransCent told us you and Mariana transitioned together?”
“Yeah, we did. We actually met at a TransCent info session. Back when we were still on the other side.”
“Other side?” asked Calvin. When I gave him a warning look, he quickly added, “Oh, I see. The other side of the gender divide.”
“That’s right,” said Marelda with a suspicious glance at my brother. “Back when we were still biologically misaligned. We became fast friends, and saw each other through HRT, monitoring each other’s progress, watching out for warning signs, celebrating our successes, mourning our losses…” She shook her head. “Too much to mention.”
“Is it true that you had a fight a couple of nights ago?” I asked.
She looked up. “Amy mentioned that? Yes, it’s true. We had a big fight at The Roxy Revolution.” She cast down her eyes, and I could see tears rolling down her cheeks. “If only I’d known then what I know now, I would never have used those words. I called her a fraud. A cheat. A hustling bitch.”
“But why?”
“I told you that Mariana was a people person. She was so extroverted she could strike up a conversation riding on a bus with a stranger and know their entire life’s history by the time they arrived at their destination. It was uncanny. So when she told me she’d been lonely before she found TransCent, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe it.”
“She didn’t have any friends or family?”
“She had, but her folks didn’t take the transgender thing too well. And when she lost her job in the city, working as a day trader, she moved out here to be away from the hustle and bustle of New York. She’d hoped to start a new life, but had a hard time finding a job. And when you don’t have any money, it’s kinda hard to build up a social life. Trust me, it is,” she said when Calvin murmured his disagreement. “It’s hard to be sociable when you’re poor. People look down on you, there’s no way around it. That’s just the way it is.”
“But HRT must have cost a small fortune,” I said. “Where did she find the money?”
“That’s what I asked her. Turns out she started one of those GoFundMe things, asking for money for the treatment. It must have worked, for she lived in a pretty nice apartment.” She glanced around. “A hell of a lot better than mine.”
“So what did you two fight about?” I asked.
“Hold your horses, honey. I’m coming to that.”
I gave her my best smile. “Take your time.”
She shifted in the chair, causing it to creak dangerously. “I wasn’t the only friend Mariana made in the transgender community. In fact before long she became something of a driving force in our local little circle. She started organizing fundraisers and rallies and TransCent patron drives. You name it, she was behind it. Pretty soon she was the heart of the whole community. And she loved it. She blossomed. Became a different person.”
“And you were jealous,” said Calvin knowingly.
“I was not!” Marelda cried. “You take that back, mister!”
“Yeah, you take that back,” I said.
Calvin held up his hands. “I take it back.”
“Now apologize,” I added.
Marelda grinned. “I like you, honey. You take no crap from your colleague, do you? Or is he your boss?”
“Oh, no,” I said. “He’s my brother.”
“Your brother!” She gave Calvin a look that spoke volumes. “If I had a brother like that, I’d have drowned him at birth.”
“I couldn’t. He’s my older brother.”
“Missed your chance, huh? Still, your mother should have had the common sense to do the right thing once that popped out of her.”
“Come on!” Calvin cried.
“Shush, Calvin,” I said. “Read your Oprah and be quiet.”
Marelda laughed. “You two are funny!”
“So… Mariana?”
“Wait,” said Marelda, getting up with some effort. “I like you. I’m going to give you a cookie.” She disappeared into the kitchen, swinging a sizable—and very round—posterior.
“You’re emasculating me,” Calvin complained.
“How am I emasculating you? I’m just trying to save this interview from those insensitive comments of yours.”
“You’re treating me like a baby.”
“Only because you act like a baby.”
“I’m not!”
“Are too.”
“Am not!”
“Here. Have a cookie,” said Marelda, who’d returned, and shoved a cookie into Calvin’s mouth. He stared up at her, and seemed about to spit out the cookie.
“Now be a good boy and eat your cookie,” I said.
He merely growled something, and bit down on the cookie.
“It’s chocolate chip,” said Marelda. “My momma’s recipe.” She handed me one and I took it gratefully. They were as large as dinner plates.
“Thanks,” I said, and took a tentative nibble. “Yum. These are good.”
“Of course they’re good. I told you, they’re my momma’s recipe.”
“So. About that fight at The Roxy Revolution?”
“Oh. Right. You almost made me forget the point of my story,” she told Calvin with a scowl. My brother looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end wiser councils prevailed and he chomped his cookie and leafed through Oprah Magazine instead. Good boy.
“You said Mariana was blossoming? Becoming the driving force of the Happy Bays transgender community?”
“Well, she was. And since she was raising more money for the cause than anyone had ever done before, she was everybody’s hero, including mine. That all changed when I discovered that instead of donating the money to TransCent, and the new transgender program at Happy Bays Memorial Hospital, she was spending it all. I was furious, and I think I had every right to be, don’t you?”
“Wait, she was spending everything?”
“Every damn cent. And I wouldn’t even have known if I hadn’t run into Rick Dawson. He’s a reporter for the New York Chronicle, and wanted to do an article on transgenders in small-town America. He was asking me some preliminary questions, and we happened to land on the topic of the new hospital program. I told him I had a friend who was donating a ton of money, and he wanted to know who, and when I gave him Mariana’s name, he acted all surprised. He’d talked to the doctor in charge, and he’d told him they hadn’t received a cent from the local community. All the money came from wealthy New York City donors. He did remember that Mariana’s name had come up in a conversation with his dad, who’s some big-shot real estate guy, so he called his dad, and what do you know?”
“What?” I asked, on the edge of my seat.
“Who’s this Doctor Oz?” asked Calvin. “She keeps mentioning some Doctor Oz. Is he related to the Wizard of Oz by any chance?”
“Calvin? Shut up,” I said.
“So Rick’s dad talked to some of his real estate buddies, and turns out Mariana spent top dollar
on a beachfront property in Southampton!”
“Oh. My. God,” I said, totally engrossed in the story.
“Half a million dollars if you please!”
“The donations?”
Marelda nodded emphatically. “The donations. All gone. When I dug a little deeper, I also discovered she bought herself a Lambo—probably to go with the house—and has been shopping all over the place. Well, except in Happy Bays, of course.”
“She didn’t want anyone to find out.”
“Exactly. So I told her off. I said this was no way to treat her friends and the community that had taken her in.”
“And how did she react?”
“She said she was sorry, but that I of all people should understand what it meant to go from being dirt poor to watching all that money flowing in. She said she couldn’t resist. She also told me more money was coming. Like, a lot more. And she was going to fulfill all of her promises.”
“A lot more money was coming in, huh? Do you think this might have something to do with why she was killed?”
Marelda sat back with a knowing look. “Wouldn’t surprise me none, hon. Money makes people do crazy things. Makes them forget all about their values. Makes them betray their friends. Just look at Mariana. That money made her go gaga.”
Calvin cleared his throat. “Not that I don’t find Oprah absolutely riveting reading, but where were you when Mariana was killed, Mrs. Morato?”
Marelda pursed her lips. “Nice. I give you a cookie and you accuse me of murder.”
“Well…”
She got up and snatched the cookie from Calvin’s hand. “No more cookie for you.”
“I have to ask!” Calvin cried. “It’s my job!”
“There’s better ways of asking, Calvin,” I admonished him. “Without being rude.”
Marelda handed me Calvin’s cookie. “Listen to your sister, Calvin. She knows. And for your information, I was at The Roxy Revolution last night. One of my girls was celebrating her birthday.”
“Weren’t you surprised that Mariana wasn’t there?” I asked.
“I tried calling her—and texting her—but she didn’t respond. I figured she was still mad at me for laying a little truth on her.”