Deaths of Jocasta (22 page)

“Hypocrite!” I lashed out at her.

“For his sake! You tramp!” she exploded, as if she’d been waiting years to call me that. “Thief! No shame. Sleeping with women, you lost your reputation the minute you left my house.”

“Not true,” I retorted defiantly. “It was before I left your house. It was so much easier to fuck strangers than be with my ‘family…’”

“How dare you!” Aunt Greta screeched back. “Using such—”

“Pharisee. You self-righteous bitch,” I shouted at her. Other voices were raised and shouting. Never say “fuck” in front of a bunch of nuns unless you want to create a commotion. Aunt Greta was calling me every name her prissy vocabulary would allow. And I was screaming back at her.

Suddenly there was a very loud bang and the cacophony ceased. Sister Ann had taken a large book and dropped it on the table.

“This is getting us nowhere,” she said into the sudden silence. “The purpose of this meeting is to constructively deal with the murder of a young woman and its consequences. Not solve family disputes.”

“This is hardly—” Aunt Greta fumed.

“Silence, please,” Sister Ann cut her off. “Cordelia is right. This community needs medical care and unless we can find a full-time replacement for her and a method of paying that person, she cannot just stand aside.”

Father Flynn started to speak, but Sister Ann continued before he got past his first “but.”

“At the same time,” she said, “rightfully or wrongfully, people are afraid and rumors are spreading.” She turned to Cordelia. “Would you agree to some compromise? Perhaps to have a nurse or other attendant always with you? I know your staff is overworked and I would certainly volunteer a few hours of my time, if that would help.”

“If any patient requests it. Usually one of the nurses is there,” Cordelia replied.

“And I think we should, jointly, come up with some public statement that will calm things down a bit and allow us to continue our work here. Any objections to that?” She looked around the table.

“I would have to review any statement that concerns this parish,” Father Flynn stipulated.

“It will, of course, have to be acceptable to all concerned,” Sister Ann replied. “I suggest we meet again to hammer out the main points. Perhaps the same time Friday?” She again looked around the table. Heads nodded, some readily, others reluctantly. “Now, is there anything else, before we adjourn?”

“Yes,” Aunt Greta spoke up.

I turned my back and looked out the window.

“I demand an apology,” she said. “I will not leave this room without one.”

I started to say, “Then rot here, bitch,” but stopped myself. It would accomplish nothing, only make me sound childish. I was already feeling abashed at my earlier behavior, like I was a kid in a room full of grown-ups, out of place and unsure of the rules. My only consolation was that Aunt Greta had behaved as badly as I had. I kept my back resolutely turned.

“Apologize, child. You’ll feel better,” Father Flynn said.

“No,” I replied, not turning. “I will never apologize.”

“I should have called the police when you snuck out of my house,” Aunt Greta said.

“I was of age,” I answered.

“For the money you stole,” she replied.

I turned to look at her. The self-righteous smirk was in place. “I didn’t steal any money.”

“Yes, you did. Over a thousand dollars. That’s why you had to sneak out in the middle of the night.”

“I didn’t steal any money,” I repeated, not for Aunt Greta, but for the others listening. Probably Bayard had taken advantage of my sudden departure.

She continued her litany. I turned my back to her, refusing to listen. I had thought that screaming at her, calling her all the names I had always wanted to say, would cleanse me, release some of the stored fury, but it hadn’t. There would be no cathartic shrugging off of the years spent with her.

“Come on, Greta, let’s go. ‘Charity suffereth long and is kind,’” Father Flynn cut into her tirade. I heard them leave. Only distance silenced her.

I finally turned from the window when all the footsteps had ceased echoing in the hallway.

Emma was still there.

“I didn’t steal the money,” I repeated.

“Michele, dear, I know that. I was there, remember? I saw what you brought out of that ugly house. One battered suitcase and a small box of books. And I watched you unpack everything. I didn’t see a thousand dollars. And even if I hadn’t been an eyewitness to your not stealing the money, I’d hardly take the word of that termagant over yours.”

“Thanks, Emma,” I said, smiling at her choice of words. I surprised both of us by hugging her tightly. As I should have done a long time ago, except for Aunt Greta teaching me to expect people to use me. And Bayard giving me a reason to think Emma was using me.

“Thank you,” she said as I released her.

I shrugged it off, but couldn’t help smiling at Emma. In a way that Aunt Greta would never know, or understand even if she did, I had won a victory over her today.

“No, thank you. Ten, no, a thousand Aunt Gretas and their accusations couldn’t equal your belief in me.”

“Sensible woman,” Emma responded. “I must be off. Watch over Cordelia for me, will you?”

I agreed, then walked Emma to her car. After waving good-bye to her, I went back to the waiting room. And waited, ostensibly, watching over Cordelia for Emma, but really, just watching, hoping for something to fall into place.

Joanne arrived around five thirty.

Hutch showed up a minute later, followed a few minutes later by Danny.

Hutch and Millie, taking advantage of heterosexual privilege, kissed hello. Danny and Elly discreetly hugged. Joanne and I just nodded. Danny also hugged Cordelia when she emerged from her last patient. We moved, en masse, toward the parking lot. I elbowed Danny in the side when I caught sight of O’Connor. Danny was in the process of inviting everyone over for dinner. And on the verge of holding Elly’s hand. She straightened up at my hint.

O’Connor grunted at the sight of us.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he asked.

“A group of people,” I answered.

“Detective Ranson,” he said, “you just happen to be here a lot, don’t you?” He clearly didn’t like her hovering over his investigation.

“It happens,” Joanne shrugged. “Do you know my partner, Hutch Mackenzie?”

Hutch shook O’Connor’s hand, towering over him as he did.

“Yeah, well, I can see why they paired the two of you,” was O’Connor’s comment.

Joanne stiffened.

“We work together real well because the crooks always think what you’re thinking,” Hutch said in his best man-to-man tone. “I first met Joanne on the judo mat. I figured, hey, no problem, I’ll have her down in no time. Then I was looking at the ceiling, wondering what had happened.” Hutch put his arms around O’Connor’s shoulders buddy fashion, which only emphasized how much bigger Hutch was. “Then I said to myself, all right, bitch. And I got up and I got serious. And there was the ceiling again. And again. She threw me four times. Then I gave up. We make a great team, Joanne beats the crooks up and I sit on them.”

“I meant no offense,” O’Connor said, looking up at Hutch.

“None taken, Detective O’Connor,” Joanne replied coolly.

“Well, Dr. James,” O’Connor said, slipping away from Hutch. “Did you assemble your troops for my benefit?”

“No.” Cordelia shook her head.

“Two police officers, a district attorney.” He nodded at Danny. “Miss Private Investigator, your staff. I’m impressed. But not impressed enough to let you get away with murder.” With that, he got in his car and drove away.

“Asshole,” I commented.

“Just doing his job.” Hutch shrugged.

“Abrasively,” I answered.

With O’Connor gone, Danny repeated her invitation to dinner.

“Why don’t I call Alex and have her meet us there?” Cordelia volunteered. “She’s called twice today and I haven’t gotten back to her yet.”

“I’ll do it,” Joanne said. “I need to call her anyway.” She declined Cordelia’s offer of keys to get back into the clinic and went instead to the pay phone on the corner.

I suddenly felt tired, letting myself lean against my car, enervated by the day. I didn’t feel up to parading around Danny’s house with Alex there, pretending I wasn’t sleeping with Joanne.

“Wake up, Mick, you haven’t had dinner yet,” Danny chided my nodding head. “By the way,” she continued, “where were you last night?”

“Here, most of it.”

“After that?” she queried.

“In bed asleep,” I replied, giving her a it’s-none-of-your-business glare.

“Whose? I called you this morning around seven,” she said.

“In the shower.”

“…and again around eight.”

Danny, after our affair, always enjoyed being tacky about my random sex life. It used to be a game we played, but I didn’t appreciate it now.

“She’ll meet us there,” Joanne said, as she crossed the parking lot.

“Good, the more the merrier,” Danny said. “That makes eight of us.”

“Sorry, seven,” I said. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to go home and collapse.”

“Sure, Micky. I’m used to you turning down a free meal and booze to go home by yourself,” Danny jibed.

“You do look tired,” Elly backed me up.

“Good night, girls,” I said and headed for my car. I was on the verge of yelling at Danny, telling her to leave me the fuck alone, but my anger wasn’t really toward her, rather the events of the past few days. I was vaguely aware of Danny, Elly, and Cordelia saying good night to me.

I got in my car. Joanne appeared at my window, leaning on the door.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Tired.”

“Is that really all?”

“Yeah. Really. Say hi to Alex for me,” I replied. But I wasn’t able to keep my voice as neutral as I would have liked.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“I’m okay. Just tired,” I covered.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I thought we could be casual. I never meant to hurt you.”

“We are casual. I’ve fucked a lot of women,” I said harshly, barricading myself. “Don’t think…that you matter more than any of the rest of them,” I added callously.

“All right,” Joanne replied shortly.

“Do say hi to Alex for me.”

Joanne straightened up. I took her hand, preventing her from leaving. I watched Danny’s car pull out into the street, followed by Cordelia’s. I turned back to Joanne. I pulled her to me and kissed her. At first she was stiff, unresponsive, then her mouth opened slightly, letting my tongue in. She put her arms around me and returned my kiss roughly.

“Shit,” she said, breaking off. “We can’t do this here.”

“I suppose not.” I started my car. “You know where I live. And you have a key.”

Joanne backed away from my car.

“Good night, Micky,” she said, deliberately not giving me an answer.

“So long,” I said and started to pull away. Out of my rearview mirror, I watched Joanne stalk over to her car. Then I drove away.

She came over after she left Danny and Elly’s place.

Joanne woke me at an obscene hour in the morning. “I have to go back to my place and change,” she explained.

“Have fun,” I sleepily replied.

“Roll over,” she told me, her hand pressing on my shoulder, forcing me onto my back.

“It’s too early in the morning,” I demurred.

“You wanted me here,” she countered, running her hand across my breasts, then down between my legs.

“Joanne…” I said, but her hand was starting to wake me up. Sleep could wait. I grabbed her, intending to throw her on her back and get on top, but she wrestled me down. Joanne is stronger than she looks, I thought as I lay under her. She was on top of me, holding my wrists in her hands, pinning my arms against the bed.

“Spread your legs,” she ordered.

We were fighting, I realized. Or continuing our sparring from last night. I had won that round by driving away and making her come over here. Now she was paying me back. I kept my legs together, trying to decide how much resistance my pride demanded.

We stared at each other, a battle of wills ensuing. Her weight shifted, pressing between my legs. I stubbornly resisted, even though I wanted her. Slowly her pressure pried my thighs apart.

I jerked up, taking advantage of the lightened pressure on my hands. But I didn’t get free. We grappled for a minute, but I was unable to get her off balance. Her leg was between mine now, pressing into me.

“Spread your legs,” she demanded again.

“Put your finger up me, all the way,” I countered.

“You like that?” she retorted. But her finger was probing into the folds of my flesh, until she found my opening. I gasped as her finger shot into me.

Somehow anger had seeped into our having sex. No, I’d invited it by what I’d said last night.