by Nic Saint
Logan came back, but only grudgingly so. “What?”
“If you think I’m going to accept your resignation you’re crazy. Now pick up your gun and badge and not another word about resigning. Not a peep!”
“If you promise never to mention my uncle again,” Munroe growled back.
Both men glared at each other from across the office. Finally, the Chief barked, “Fine! Now get out of here before I kick you out.”
The detective picked up his gun and badge, gave the Chief a half-hearted salute and stalked out without deigning my family or me another look.
Somehow I had the feeling this wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
Chapter 15
We all stood gathered around the water cooler in the office cafeteria. Calvin and I had just finished regaling the others with the tale of our recent arrest, and Grandma’s intervention on our behalf, and the story had held my brothers spellbound.
“Detective Munroe quit?” asked Lucien, his mouth agape. “That gorgeous man lost his job because of you two? That’s just criminal!”
“You obviously didn’t listen, or you would have heard that Chief Whitehouse refused to accept his resignation and told him to behave or else,” said Calvin, who stood leaning casually against the wall, happy to be the center of attention.
“And then Logan told the Chief never to mention his uncle again,” I added, also caught up in the story.
Brice arched an eyebrow. “Oh, so now it’s Logan, huh?”
I shrugged. “The Chief called him Logan, so…”
“I can’t believe you accused him of groping you!” cried Dalton with a laugh. “Nice.”
“I was all out of moves, and I did not want to have my mug shot taken.”
“What’s wrong with a mug shot?” asked Dalton. “I had my mug shot taken once. I’ve kept a copy. I looked pretty rad!”
We all stared at him. “You? Were arrested?” asked Calvin.
“Yeah, that’s the first I’ve heard of this,” Lucien chimed in.
“No biggie,” said Dalton, tipping back his cup of water and crunching it up in his big fist. “I used to date this hot chick—the mayor’s niece—and for some reason she liked to annoy the heck out of her uncle. So she decided to kidnap Moe, and roped me into doing the dirty work.”
“You kidnapped the mayor’s parrot?” asked Brice with a laugh.
Moe is Mayor MacDonald’s pet parrot. His pride and joy. Anyone who touches Moe has to be prepared to face the full wrath of the mayor’s vengeance.
“I never had a chance,” said Dalton. “The minute I got within ten feet of the bird, he started screaming bloody murder, and the mayor caught me red-handed. Had me arrested and sent down to the police station.”
“So how come we don’t know about this?” I asked, also laughing.
“Grandma bailed me out, and she decided it was best not to mention the incident to anyone… ever again.”
“Grandma keeps bailing us out, it seems,” I said, shaking my head. Not for the first time I wondered what would become of us if she wasn’t around. Then, because the prospect upset me too much, I decided to put it out of my mind. Losing Mom and Dad had been terrible enough, I couldn’t imagine losing Grandma.
“So we’re in the clear?” asked Brice. “From now on Detective Logan is off our backs?”
“Not a chance,” I said. “He didn’t like it when the Chief told him off. I think he’s going to keep trying to keep us from investigating this crime.”
“Let him try,” said Calvin. “We’ve got the Chief’s support.”
“He’s quite a character, isn’t he, this Logan?” said Lucien musingly.
“Don’t you go getting any ideas,” Calvin grumbled. “He’s a man’s man.”
“Just my kind of man,” said Lucien with a grin.
“I mean he’s strictly heterosexual,” Calvin added.
Lucien’s grin spread. “Let him come to momma.” Then his smile faltered. “But let him wait a couple of months, until my boobs come in.”
“Oh, crap, Lucien,” said Brice, making a face. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” said Lucien. “Dead serious. Soon my boobs will be bigger than Saffron’s.”
All eyes turned to my modest boobage, then quickly turned away again. Some topics are simply too outrageous to discuss, and for some reason the fact that I’m a woman has always been one of them. As far as my brothers are concerned, I’m not a girl. Maybe my pixie cut has something to do with that. Maybe I should let my hair grow long and start using makeup.
“I’m pretty sure that Logan is not going to give you the time of day, Lucien,” said Calvin. “I mean, the way he was looking at Saffron when she accused him of wanting to grope her in the backseat of his squad car spoke volumes. The guy is hot for her.”
“He is not,” I said. “If anything, he hates my guts.”
“He doesn’t hate your guts.”
“He arrested me! And when I apologized he refused to shake my hand.”
“Yeah, he’s got the hots for you,” Brice agreed.
Dalton, who’d been staring at Lucien’s chest, now asked, “So you’re growing breasts?”
“That was the topic five minutes ago, Dalton,” said Calvin. “Try to keep up, will you?”
“Yes, for your information I am,” said Lucien.
“You mean, like, man boobs?” asked Dalton, undeterred.
“Not man boobs! Women boobs!”
Dalton shook his head. “But… you’re a guy. How can you grow women’s boobs?”
“That’s the whole point!” Calvin cried. “Lucien is turning himself into a woman.”
Dalton shook his head again, like a boxer receiving a punch. “But how is that even possible? I mean, boys got a pee pee, and girls… well, girls don’t.”
“So I’ll just have to lose the pee pee, won’t I?” asked Lucien.
Dalton’s eyes went wide. “Lose the pee pee? But… how?”
Lucien made a snip-snip movement with his fingers and Dalton blanched.
“You’re going to cut your pee pee? But why?! Why would you do such a thing?!”
“Like you said, girls don’t have one, so if I want to be a girl, I’m going to have to lose it,” said Lucien, though he suddenly didn’t seem altogether sure about himself. The prospect of losing his appendage probably hadn’t occurred to him.
“It’s a brave new world,” Calvin commented, slapping Dalton on the back, as we all returned to our respective offices.
Lucien fell into step beside me. “Listen,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” He glanced back at the others nervously. “If halfway through this thing I decide I don’t want to do it, do you think I can go back to being… me?”
“You mean if you grow a pair of boobs do they disappear again?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to be, like, half man, half woman, if you know what I mean. I have to commit to one or the other.”
I eyed him a little worriedly. “Sounds to me like you haven’t thought this whole thing through, Lucien. Have you discussed this with the TransCent psychologist like they told you to at the info session?”
“Nah,” he said, making a dismissive gesture. “I don’t need psychoanalysis.”
“Why don’t I make an appointment for you? I’m sure they’ll be able to help you with any questions you might have. They’re quite accomplished and experienced. And you’d be plugged into the transgender community.”
He gave me a hesitant look. “You think so?”
“I know so. Before you start experimenting with your biology you need to get your head straight. Otherwise you’re just setting yourself up for failure.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I might just do that.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “Better get all the facts, huh?”
“Yes,” I said emphatically, and watched him stalk off in the direction of his office. I was worried about Lucien. He was prone to emotional and impulsive decisions, but there were certain decisions t
hat had life-altering consequences. The kind of consequences that were irreversible. I just hoped he didn’t go down this road without thinking things through.
Chapter 16
I was helping Grandma in the kitchen when the doorbell rang.
“Oh, that will be Chief Whitehouse,” said Grandma happily. “I invited him to dinner. It’s the least I could do after the disaster this afternoon.”
“Did you invite Demitria as well?”
“I did, but Curtis said she had something else planned already.”
“I like the Chief,” I said. “He really saved us back there.”
“I saved you,” Grandma said in a gently chiding voice.
“Well, yes, you did,” I admitted. “Without you, Calvin and I would be in jail right now.”
Grandma shook her head. “I can’t believe that man would have thrown you and your brother in jail just like that. No Diffley has ever been arrested and I would like to keep it that way.”
“What about Dalton? Wasn’t he arrested once for trying to steal the mayor’s parrot?”
“He told you about that? Silly boy. I told him to keep his mouth shut.”
She shoved the chopped onions into the frying pan and added the butter. I was still working on the baby potatoes. From the oven, the scent of roasted chicken was starting to make my mouth water. The kitchen is the area where Grandma reigns supreme—in other parts of the house my brothers like to pretend they’re in charge, though even there her influence is keenly felt in everything from the decorations to the furnishings.
The kitchen is also my favorite part of the house, as we’ve lived through a lot of fun times here as a family. It’s large enough to seat everyone, and cozy enough to function as the hub of both the house and the Diffley brood. A sizable butcher block countertop stands right at the center, which was where I was cutting up the baby potatoes, preparatory to being transferred to the baking sheet—yes, we have two ovens—and a second island is located beneath the kitchen window, which was where Grandma was whipping up onions and carrots into shape. In the fridge, rice pudding stood firming up for consumption.
“So do you think Detective Munroe will back off now?” I asked.
“I’m sure he will. Once Curtis has put his foot down, he won’t dare to go against him. Trust me,” she added when she saw me giving her a dubious look.
“I don’t like this, Grandma,” I said. “I don’t like this turf war thing.”
“It’s only a one-time thing, honey. Logan Munroe simply needs to learn how things are done around here. And I think he’s learned his lesson now.”
“Where does he come from? I mean, is he from around here?”
“His family hails from New Hampshire, the state Senator Munroe represents. They moved here a couple of months ago, so he moved with them. He was lucky to get a job here. The rest of us? Not so lucky,” she said with a sigh.
“His family? So he’s married, huh?”
Grandma smiled. “No, he’s not, actually. He had a couple of girlfriends but nothing serious. He’s one of those men that are married to their jobs. A born cop. Or so Curtis tells me.” She gave me a keen look. “You seem awfully interested in Detective Munroe, honey. Do you like him?”
“No, I don’t,” I said with a shrug. “Just want to know who the guy is that arrested me, that’s all.”
“Well, then this is your lucky night. You’ll be able to ask him all about himself over dinner.”
I turned my head around so fast I almost sprained my neck. “You asked him to dinner?!”
“Of course. I want to settle this animosity once and for all. And what better way to do so than over a nice roast chicken, made according to my grandmother’s time-honored recipe? Once he gets a taste of this, he’ll forget all about throwing my babies in jail,” she added with a set look on her face.
When I strode into the dining room—the rare scene of a family dinner, as we usually ate in the kitchen or outside on the deck—my eye caught the rigid form of Detective Munroe as he stood gazing out the French windows into the expansive garden of Diffley Manor. He was clutching a glass of wine, and judging from the tense line of his lips, being here hadn’t featured very high on his program for the evening.
Chief Whitehouse sat chatting amiably with Calvin in one of the couches in the living room, while my other brothers were nowhere in sight. Except for Rodrick, who sat reading a RoboCop comic book on the floor, and kept darting anxious looks at Detective Munroe from where he sat.
“So,” I said, joining the detective at the window. “Got roped into dinner in the enemy’s den?”
He gave me a cursory glance, the corners of his mouth curling down. “You’re not my enemy, Miss Diffley.”
“But I’m not your friend, either.”
He lifted his massive shoulders in a barely perceptible shrug. “You’re a member of the public. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“I guess my groping comment didn’t do much to endear you to me, huh?”
“Not much,” he admitted. “I can assure you that I would never ‘grope’ anyone, Miss Diffley, least of all you.”
The way he said it raised my heckles. “Least of all me? What is that supposed to mean?”
He sighed. “It means nothing. Forget what I said.”
“You mean I’m not worth being groped, is that it? I’m not pretty enough for you?”
“You are pretty enough,” he growled through gritted teeth, his fingers curling tighter around his glass of red wine. “I’m just not the kind of man who needs to tie a woman up with handcuffs, lock her in the back of his squad car, and get all funky with her. I’m not a rapist, Miss Diffley.”
“Oh.” I frowned at him. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I guess I didn’t handle that as well as I should have. I’m sorry if I insulted you.”
He waved a hand. “Forget about it. In fact I owe you an apology as well. I overreacted when I saw you and your brother walk out of Bach’s condo.”
I nodded, rocking back on my heels. “So what did you think of Mr. Christmas?”
“He’s… an interesting character.”
“Did he tell you about Mariana’s parents? How they broke off all contact?”
He directed a hard look at me. “You may have convinced Chief Whitehouse to allow you to conduct this investigation on my watch, but that doesn’t mean I have to cooperate, Miss Diffley. We’re not sharing clues. We’re not exchanging information. And we’re most definitely not discussing this case in any way, shape or form. Is that understood?”
I grinned. “I see that stick up your butt is still firmly in place.” The moment I said it, I regretted it, for I saw his hand move to his belt, where usually his cuffs were dangling. He reached for them, more out of habit than anything else, I guess, found that he was dressed in his civvies, and glowered at me.
So I gave him my best smile, slowly backtracked, and said, “Enjoy your dinner, Detective Munroe.”
The next few minutes were occupied by placing the food on the table, wrangling my brothers into the dining room, and fussing over who was going to sit where, now that we had guests. Finally, we were all seated, and Grandma said grace. I sneaked a peek at the big, bad detective, and saw he’d closed his eyes, deep in prayer. Probably praying that this ordeal would be over real soon.
And then we all dug in.
“This smells delicious, Margaret,” said Chief Whitehouse eagerly. He was a large man, with a lot of body mass to maintain, and enjoying a good meal was one of his favorite pastimes in the world. Apart from catching crooks, of course.
“Yes, this all looks wonderful, Mrs. Diffley,” Detective Munroe chimed in. At least he’d get a nice home-cooked meal out of this.
“So do you work out, Detective?” asked Dalton, hogging the potatoes.
“Yes, I do spend some time in the gym,” said the Detective reluctantly.
“Logan here is a real gym rat,” said the Chief. “A genuine health nut.”
“I wouldn’t go as
far as that,” the Detective said with a tight smile.
“So how much do you bench, Detective?” Dalton asked.
Munroe grimaced, but was saved from having to respond by Lucien, who’d developed an interest of his own in the policeman. “You’re conducting the investigation into the death of Mariana Piney, right?” he asked.
“That’s correct,” said Munroe after a pause.
“So you saw the body at the coroner’s office?”
“Yes, I did,” said Munroe, putting down his fork.
“So, in your professional opinion, Detective—”
“I can’t talk about the particulars of—”
“—do you like transgender boobies as much as regular boobies?”
Munroe’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“I mean, do you like them more? Less? The same? It’s important to me,” he added with a hesitant smile. “As I’m on the verge of starting HRT myself, you see, and it would be so nice to get a man’s perspective on this as well. A real man, I mean,” he added with a scathing look at my brothers.
“Hey, what am I?” asked Dalton. “A man or a muppet?”
“A muppet,” Lucien shot back. “So what about it, Detective? Did you like Mariana Piney’s boobies?”
“This is so wrong,” Brice said, shaking his head.
Detective Munroe’s head had taken on a darker tinge of scarlet. “I think I’m going to plead the fifth on this, um…”
“Lucien,” said Lucien, batting his eyes at Munroe. “Though you can call me Lucienne. I’ll be transitioning soon. I just got my DIY kit this morning.”
“I don’t think—” Munroe began, visibly disturbed.
“I don’t think we need to discuss your boobies at dinner, Lucien,” said Grandma.
“It’s important,” said Lucien with a pout.
“I know it is, sweetheart,” said Grandma. “But now is not the time.”
Dalton had stripped up his sleeve and was flexing his bicep. “Show me your arms, Detective,” he said. “Let’s compare guns.”
Detective Munroe stared at him, his fork halfway to his lips.