Kristin Ashe: Disorderly Attachments Part 12

"Cut it out, Fran," I said testily. "I can barely absorb all this, much less translate your shorthand."

"s.h.i.+rley Ba.s.sett. One hundred thousand dollars," Fran said easily.

I gasped. "s.h.i.+rley Ba.s.sett wrote a check to the Lesbian Community Center for that amount? Are you sure?"

"Saw it myself."

"Destiny showed you?"

"Nope. The cutie-pie in charge of fund-raising gave my eyes the treat. Her and me, we've always been tight."

"Lola?"

"Thought she preferred Layla, but you're probably right on the p.r.o.nunciation."

"She's worked there for a year."

"Never corrected me. How am I supposed to know? Anyway, trusts me enough to share the secrets. More than Destiny's doing with you. My reaction-a mixture of hurt and anger-must have shown, because Fran hastened to add, "Destiny's more mature than Lola. Stinker gossips every time I drop by the Center. I'll have to talk with Destiny about her when this blows over."

"In the meanwhile, you'll use her for information," I said snidely.

"Heck, yeah. Make that blabbing work to my advantage. Already dug up some nuggets. You won't believe what cause the money has to support. Take a guess!"

"Tell me."

"Anything but youth programs. That's Ba.s.sett's only stipulation."

My eyes widened. "That her contribution not support the cause her lover and Destiny most support?"

"Precis.e.m.e.nt. That's French for precisely. Oh, and also, the money has to be matched with funds from the community."

"That's common."

"Everyday occurrence, according to Lay...ola. You should see it, kiddo. The Center's a beehive of activity. They're setting up a phone bank, calling in markers from community leaders, partnering with every social organization in the city. Lola's determined to match and earn every cent. She has thirty days to do it."

"Thirty days?"

"Mysterious coincidence or planned manipulation?" Fran said, c.o.c.king her head and dramatically lifting an eyebrow.

"Did the tight deadline surprise Lola?"

"More like invigorated her. She claims a deadline's good. Creates buzz and a sense of urgency. Draw it out and folks lose interest."

"Does she expect to match it all?"

"Destiny told her to shoot for half. They've got an order out to a sign company to whip up a poster they can display in the lobby. Bar graph type thing to mark the progress every morning. They hired a graphic artist to typeset ads they can place in-"

I cut her off. "A graphic artist? Why? I could have done those ads."

In Fran's exaggerated shrug, her shoulders almost touched her ears. "Destiny's trying to honor boundaries, maybe."

"I would have done the ads for free!"

"Destiny knows you're dedicating yourself to the detective work full-time. Maybe she wants to respect that."

"Is this you talking or her?"

"Me talking for her," Fran said with a grin. "But if you asked, which you can't, I'll bet she'd say the same."

"I wonder why she hasn't mentioned the donation," I said unhappily.

"All in a day's work, and you gals agreed to cut back on shoptalk, correct-a-meundo?"

"Yes, but-"

"Leave it to me, Kris."

"Don't you find it a little odd that Carolyn O'Keefe wants to have an affair with Destiny at the same time as her lover is giving Destiny's organization the largest donation in its history?"

"Put it that way, more than odd. Too much courting going on, that's for d.a.m.n sure."

"Could s.h.i.+rley be having an affair with Destiny?"

Fran shot me a blistering look.

"Trying to have an affair," I amended.

"Possibly. But if so, she ain't doing nothing to hide it. Lola says she's stopped by a half-dozen times, has meetings with Destiny with the door wide open, chats up the rest of the staff."

I could feel the frown between my eyes deepen. "What the h.e.l.l's going on?"

"Beats me. Let's table speculation for the time being. Get back to the facts. Fact five-"

"Four," I said automatically.

Fran consulted her notebook and said affably, "Got me. While our girl Destiny's behavior has been above reproach, I can't say the same for Carolyn O'Keefe. Fact number four, Carolyn has followed Destiny."

"How do you know?" I said, filled with alarm.

"Because I've been following Carolyn. One day, I latched on to her at work and tailed her to the LCC. I watched her sit in her car for a good hour. She cranked the engine when Destiny came out, and she took on after her, me in pursuit behind the two of 'em. The chase ended after four blocks."

"Why?"

"Suspect-excuse me, Carolyn hasn't got the surveillance skills you and I possess. She's terrible at tailing, won't run the yellows. Pretty obvious about it, too. It's a miracle Destiny didn't spot her."

"Maybe she did."

"Doubtful. You know how Destiny drives that Maxima, floors it with the stereo blaring."

"It's good she lost her, right?" I said, jittery. "Carolyn doesn't know where we live."

"Not so fast, chickee. Fact number five, On Wednesday at six-oh-nine p.m., I spotted Carolyn O'Keefe parked across the street from your abode."

"Doing what?"

"Watching."

I felt a chill run up my spine, and my voice sounded strange when I spoke in a torrent. "How did she find us? For Destiny's protection, our address is unlisted."

"You didn't give it to her?"

"Of course not! I told her Destiny owned a home in Capitol Hill, but I never gave her the address."

"Dang!"

"Destiny must have told her, or she followed Destiny home. Did Carolyn see me on Wednesday?"

"No, siree. You were camped out at the office. Remember, I called to give you the bid on central air installation? Sorry about the fib. I had to make up some reason for tracking you down."

"Whatever," I said distractedly. "What am I going to do?"

"Play it safe. Park in the neighbor's garage, the one I used the winter I bunked with you. Use the back gate, back stairs. Inside, lower the blinds before you turn on any lights."

"Like I've done something wrong!" I cried. "I have to hide in my own home and pretend Destiny's not my lover?"

"Any better ideas for staying a step ahead of crazy lady?"

"No," I said, suddenly hit by a wall of depression. "I can't take much more. How many facts are left?"

"Only one, but it's a whopper."

"I'm glad you're enjoying this," I said roughly. "While my life unravels, you're patting yourself on the back for your sleuthing abilities."

"Sorry about that," Fran said sheepishly. "Got caught up in the excitement of the hunt. I'm talkin' like we do on all our cases and lost sight of the sensitivity. Can you accept my apology?"

I gave her a blank look and gestured sluggishly with my hand. I felt unbelievably tired.

"Found out this at the second business meeting. Might give you better insight into the depth of my concern."

"Just give it to me," I said dejectedly.

And then get the h.e.l.l out of here.

"Fact number six, Carolyn's managed to shoot Destiny hundreds of times."

My heart stopped. "Shoot her?"

Fran nodded grimly. "All kinds of poses, none posed. She must have used a telephoto lens. She captured her, that's for sure."

I stared ahead and shook my head, in movements that became smaller and smaller.

Chapter 13.

I felt like going home and sleeping for a year.

Unfortunately, I had to stop by Hazel Middleton's house, to see if the owner of the Fielder mansion genuinely wanted to sell to Roberta Franklin. On the drive, I considered the facts Fran had dumped on me.

Destiny and Carolyn had met three times. That alone wasn't striking. Destiny had been known to schedule multiple meetings in pursuit of money or alliances.

Destiny had received a large bouquet of flowers from s.h.i.+rley Ba.s.sett, who presumably was Carolyn's lover. This bothered me more than the six-figure donation. Why was s.h.i.+rley Ba.s.sett going after Destiny? What was Carolyn and s.h.i.+rley's true relations.h.i.+p? Lovers? Roommates? Friends?

That was the least of my worries.

Back to the facts.

Carolyn had followed Destiny at least once, maybe more. My only consolation was that Destiny loved to drive dangerously, which should put an end to that.

Carolyn had watched the house, which meant she knew where Destiny lived and possibly that I lived with her.

Finally, I couldn't shake the image of the photos. Fran had seen them spread across the pa.s.senger seat of Carolyn's car the second time Destiny met with Carolyn. Leaving the restaurant, Destiny could have spotted them if she'd parked near Carolyn or walked by her car. Yet, Carolyn didn't seem to care, almost as if she wanted Destiny to discover her obsession.

That fact-that one frightened me more than all the others!

Fast forward an hour, and I was in the midst of another frightening topic.

"Nell always did exhibit a fascination with death," Hazel Middleton said absently. "I thought she'd outgrow it, but it sprouted faster than she did."

"Nell's certain the house is haunted," I said persistently.

I'd had plenty of time to form my own opinion of the Fielder mansion after knocking on the front door of the carriage house for ten minutes, with no reply.

The foreboding three-story turret on the main house reminded me of a medieval tower of torture. The porte cochere, designed to shelter carriages as they pulled up to the front entrance, had a decided tilt to it. The ma.s.sive wraparound porch had missing railings and resembled a sinister, toothless smile. The porch floor, crafted from fine hardwood, was buckling and rotting. Many of the bay windows, projecting out from the front and sides of the house, sported plywood, and the ones with gla.s.s had panes missing, behind which tattered sheers blew in the wind. s.h.i.+ngles had peeled away from the steeply pitched roof, and gutters dangled at odd angles. The friezes, cornices and pediments had lost their charm at the hands of a mad painter, and the distinct red-orange Manitou Sandstone was marred by shadows of discoloration.

What Roberta Franklin saw, beyond decay and negligence, I had no idea.

All I saw was trouble.

I'd almost given up on my appointment when Hazel Middleton had pulled into the mosaic driveway in a late-model, maroon Lincoln Continental.

Through lightly tinted windows, I could see an angel hanging from the rearview mirror and the outline of a head, barely poking above the steering wheel. Large, round sungla.s.ses masked most of the driver's face.