Delilah

“The little man who wasn’t there was standing on the stairs. He wasn’t there again today. Gee I wish he’d go away.”  (Author unknown.)

It wasn’t the time of year in which people generally go insane. It wasn’t the oppressive heat of New England August, nor was it the loneliness of February. It was May. Students had packed and left, trees had budded and turned green, and brew-fests were happily tapping their kegs. The sun was shining, and the only unhappy people were those with allergies and those whose springtime sexual fever had no vent. Of which Delilah was both. She was lovely, our Delilah. Not as lovely as a rose, nor as sculpted as a sonnet. She was not as finely detailed as an Alfred Steiglitz (or even an Alfred Hitchcock). But on that particular day, Delilah was at least as bright as a Hawaiian lei. Or, as Jack mentioned, a finely tuned porsche. Delilah turned to face the man who had paid her such a fine compliment. She turned around and faced him wearing the finest grin imaginable. One red curl quivered in emotion. Her motor purred into rev as she turned (“Oh!”  whispered the woman, “She’s got a piece of lettuce in her teeth..”)  She reached into her fine Gucci glove compartment and pulled out a fine, leather organizer. Jack watched her, envisioning finely molded, chrome breastplates. She unclasped the organizer and looked at her fine silver Waterman pen. Jack’s mouth fell open. He realized all this could be his for the small price of a phone number. She revved her engine a little higher and pulled the fine silver slowly out with her perfectly pink nailed fingers. She was almost racing now, onlookers fairly screaming “Shift, Goddamn you, shift!”  Suddenly she popped the clutch out of the fine leather organizer , and popped the fine silver point into Jack’s finely molded biceps. (“Oh!” scolded The Whisperer, “He should have known. She’s really much more of a range rover.”)

Delilah looked down at the Waterman pen in her hands. Her hands which held the pen lay in her lap. Her lap covered by the sun shining through the trees in the park where she sat. Through those trees in that park in Northampton, Massachusetts in the month of May. This was all prior to the onset of Delilah’s insanity, though many look upon that fine day and the mention of the fine Porsche as the genesis of the Delilah who came to be. But on that day, Delilah was still Delilah, and she was looking at the pen in her hands, rolling little bits of crusted blood between her fingers.

“You know dear,” said The Whisperer as she sat down next to Delilah on the park bench, “Jack was really out of line.”  Her long grey hair fell from it’s place over her shoulder. “Oh, come now. He deserved it dear.”

“It’s not him.”  Delilah sniffled and brushed away her tears. The Whisperer put a hanky in Delilah’s fine hand. “I didn’t know I could do something like that. So… So… violent.”  Delilah’s sobs burst like a Hawaiian volcano. The Whisperer put a hand on Dee’s arm.

“You know dear, every woman has it in her. As well she should. Men compare us to forms of motor transportation and that’s really only the beginning.”  The Whisperer continued in a hushed and scornful tone. Delilah kept her head down so as not to break the moment. Without having to say another word, she heard the words she had been waiting for. The Whisperer shot a furtive glance around the park.

“You know dear, I have a special group of friends who meet to discuss certain aspects of the male gender and what to do about them. Oh, never mind. You’re not interested in this old lady’s prattle are you?  Well, if you are, dear, meet me here on Thursday night and at nine p.m., and you can come and listen for awhile. Of course, there’s no commitment right away. Just tag along and see if you like us.”  Delilah swallowed her sobs and padded her nose with the hanky. She stood up and brushed herself off. She opened her Gucci and laid the pen to rest.

“Thank you, thank you for everything.”  She took her elder’s hand. “I’ll wash the handkerchief and return it to you on Thursday night.”

“Will you be alright walking home alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I think I’ll stop into the bookstore. My friend works there and she’ll come home with me when she gets off work.”  The Whisperer gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

“Remember dear, you’re actions were completely justified.”

“Thank you.”

Delilah headed out of the park, that park in Massachusetts, and walked across the street to the bookstore. Once inside she turned toward the Enlightenment section. The place in the store where they sent the tourists with big hair. She walked into the corner. He was waiting for her. His fine jaw was tense as he was waiting for her report.

“Well?”  At this point Delilah smiled her fine smile. Her shoulders lifted and she let out a long, low laugh. “I knew you would pull it off!  Delilah you’ve done it!  Ok. Ok. I’m not going to get all excited about this yet. But you’re in, you’re in!”  Delilah silenced him with a look.

“It is not yet finished, and you are acting like a schoolboy. Now calm down. You did remember the envelope, did you not?”

“Of course I remembered the envelope. $1500. Precisely as you asked. I counted it twice myself.”

“Oh that’s reassurring.”

“Lilah…”  Delilah’s face turned to stone.

“Excuse me?”

“Delilah.”

“That’s better. On this job, we will maintain a professional relationship.”  Dee put her hand out for the envelope. Jack reached into his fine leather attache case. The leather attache case he had pulled out of his car five minutes after the pen incident near the park earlier that evening.

“Here you are. Next meeting?”  The envelope barely hit the flourescent light before it was shoved into the fine Gucci glove compartment of that finely tuned Porsche.

“Friday. Behind the pond on the college campus, in the Japanese Tea House. Ten a.m.”

“Ten?  I don’t want to get up at nine. Make it eleven.”

“Fine. Eleven.”  Delilah started to walk away. Jack put a hand over the bandage on his bicep. She turned back.

“Such a lovely performance. Really though Jack, a Porsche?  I’m really much more the range rover type.”

“Hey, I thought it was good.”

“Friday Jack.”

“Friday……….Lilah.”

“What’dya mean I don’t have an appointment?”  Daddy, I want an appointment!  I want it now! 

“You don’t have an appointment.”

“I came all the way the fuck from New York to get an appointment and you’re telling me…”

“I’m telling you, sir, that you should have called first.”  The Jerk was getting more annoying by the second. Delilah wasn’t in the mood for dealing, especially when Cute Messenger Boy from Hell was watching her handle it from the corner of the room. Delilah primped her hair subtly with her perfect fingernails. Not too long, but shapely.

“But we came all this way. Someone’s got to listen to our case.”  But I want it, daddy!  Strike two. The rest of the men, like batters of the losing team on deck, stood behind him and shifted foot to foot. Delilah gave The Jerk a look. Every person that walked through the door thought they had a case. The Jerk rambled on, his mouth moving and Delilah watching it move. Nice lips really. They are so full. He might be a good kisser… then again…I bet they’re so full now because he’s so angry. I mean really. His nostrils are flaring. Delilah could see his nose hair. She looked away quickly. Oh please….do stop….no really….you’re going to….

“Oh, what d’you know?  Sittin’ there behind your desk. Guess you know how to type.”  Strike three. Definitely not a good egg. Down the garbage chute with you. Here’s to hoping the furnace isn’t on.

“Good day, sir.”

“What?”

“Good day.”  Mr. Wonka telling Charlie to leave the factory. Telling him it was time to go. He could’ve gotten the appointment. She just didn’t feel like giving it to him. A younger man wearing a gas station shirt stepped up to plate and pushed aside The Jerk, who immediately blew out the office door. Cute Messenger Boy from Hell looked everywhere around the room but at Delilah. Damn. Damn, damn. She was getting more distraught about this by the second. She puffed herself up inside her pink Mary Kay suit; her arms crossed comfortably across her chest. She was conscious of CMBFH, knowing she would have to play this just right. Delilah focused on the man in the gas station shirt. He took a deep breath.

“Look, I…”

“Is attitude all you’re going to give me?” She stood motionless, careful not to raise her voice.

“No, no… I mean… He’s all attitude. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”  He paused before reaching out his hand over the desk. Good move. “Hey. My name’s Jack. You have to forgive him [at this, Delilah raises an eyebrow] but we’re all in a little shock. I mean… if we could just meet with Delilah for a few minutes.”

Jack in the Gas Station backed down and waited. The everlasting gobstopper lay on Delilah’s desk. The other two wannabes looked apologetic. The fax machine beeped and CMBFH slipped in quietly to take his turn at bat.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but could you sign for this?  I gotta get going.” Delilah sighed deeply, realizing she wasn’t going to get his attention. She cocked her head to one side in a last valiant attempt, creating an auburn cascade of tresses down one side of her face, simultaneously exposing her long, creamy-white neck.

“Hey, have a good day, ok?”

At least he said something. Delilah let out an inner squeal of satisfaction. The fax beeped again and without saying a word she swept across the room and picked up the memo.

Girls, Sorry I’m late, be back shortly. Developments. Got it all on photo,

the two of them together. Positively thrilling. At The Market for a danish.

Cute guy sitting next to the fax. -Max.

“Is that fax for me?”  Ahmi’s voice shot out from the doorway where she stood. She is sweaty, a dirty bandana tied around her neck, her long black hair in a fraying knot on the top of her head. Her face is streaked with dirt, lines of soot cascade down her brown cheeks, continuing on to the impressive cleavage which drops into her v-neck.  She has on her white tank and cutoffs,  both caked with mud. Despite all this she is still irresistably attractive, and the boys have a hard time looking away. Ahmi took in the scene hands on hips, the head oompa loompa, with an ear to ear grin.

“Anything exciting while I was out?”

“No, just this.”  Delilah indicated the present company with a sweep of her hand, conscious once again of her pearl pink fingertips. “What have you been up to? Mud wrestling?”

“You could say that…” The men were still staring at her. She might have looked like a centerfold for Playboy. Delilah smiled. Ahmi winked at her, before speaking.

“Really, boys. You’re staring.” Always interesting when the shoe’s on the other foot.  They quickly dropped their eyes to the floor and turned away. Ahmi looked back to her with her captivating smile. “Going to lunch now?”

“Yep, don’t beep me or anything. I’m with prospective clients.”  She lifted her eyes to the fab four next to her, “I’ll be back.”  Ahmi gave a nod and unwrapped a camera from over her shoulders. “Oh, are we meeting tonight?”

“Yes indeed. Eleven right?”

“Sounds good. Your place?”

“Righty-o. Shall we?”  Delilah addressed the boys, placing herself in the doorway like a debutante.

“Are we going to meet Delilah?”  She extended her hand to Jack in the Gas Station and introduced herself. He looked a bit surprised.

They waited for the elevator in complete silence. After donning sunglasses, Delilah admired herself in the reflective elevator doors. She stared at her lips and imagined them in the “kissable and ready” position. Jack pulled uneasily at his sweatshirt and looked down to the rug. Brown and green speckles.

They sat around the table in the back room of Delilah’s favorite restaurant. It was not a garish place. Lavish, almost over the top, but really just teetering on the brink. The kind of place in which Delilah felt comfortable. She knew it highlighted all her best aspects. There were standing plants in every corner and vines trained across the ceiling. The boys kept looking furtively out the greenhouse windows, hoping they wouldn’t be spotted. Delilah had tried to tell them it was one way glass, allowing for the ivies and the low-light vegetation, but they didn’t seem to get it. Nonetheless, she enjoyed watching their nervousness. It made her smile. They cowered over the tabletop. She sat back in her chair, relaxed, sipping her lemon drop, ankles crossed neatly; completely at ease.

“Let me make sure I have everything.”  Delilah held up the pink notepad. She looked at the hello kitty sticker in the upper right hand corner. “You’ve each lost a father at some point in your life. Each died of natural causes, or a vehicular accident. You all feel deeply suspicious of your mothers, and all your mothers know how to target shoot. Not only that, but they’re good at it. Is that the basic gist of things?”  Delilah was looking out from underneath her long eyelashes. There was a nod from every head around the table. “Now, where did you all meet?”

“We’ve all had contact at family functions for Congress.” The Fucking Jerk was trying to be cooperative. How sweet.

“So you’ve known of each other through your mothers’ jobs, but when did you actually meet?”

“We started speaking at my father’s funeral. He was the man…” He stopped as Stefan entered the room with a tray of drinks.

“Your favorite, Miss Delilah. I ran out and got some fresh mint for you too.” A smile swept her face.

“Stefan you shouldn’t have. Thank you so much.” She stretched out her pale arm, and took the iced ginger tea, careful not to spill on the jacket hanging on her chair.

“Miss Dee, it’s worth it to see your smile.” She tipped her chin down and lifted her eyebrow. Stefan chuckled. The quartet looked at Stefan the Interruption.

“Oh, where are my manners… this is Stefan, everyone.” He gave a slight Japanese style bow. “He’s a good friend and completely trusted with every case I work on.” The F.J looked a bit put out. Stefan cleared his throat and straightened up. He gave Delilah a shrug. Well then, I’m off.  He winked and turned out of the room. She listened to the click of his foot steps growing quieter, and reentered the conversation at hand.

“I know about your father’s death, and the circumstances surrounding it. What makes you think that the investigators on that case left anything for me to find?”

“I’m not saying…” He paused in looked toward the echo of the waiters footsteps. “I’m not saying they do a thorough job.”

“So you think they hushed up the case.” The Jerk looked puzzled. “Kept it quiet, covered up the details….”

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you aware the dangerous nature of the work you’re asking me to do? Getting involved in government affairs is one thing. Trying to scrape up dirt on our leading statesmen is quite another. I’m reticent to take the case.”

“But you’re the only agency on this side of the country…”

“Look. Let’s finish at least this meeting. I, of all people, am well aware of our reputation for uncovering inequality and injustice. So let’s get some of the basics over with… who would be my primary employer?”  The group of heads swivelled from side to side in confusion. “Well?  You were all going to pool your allowance and hire me all together?  I need to deal with one person only, and that person needs to pay me. All clear?”  Delilah looked at Jack in the Gas Station. “A volunteer?”  Jack raised his hand up off the table, peering out from underneath his bangs. “Good that’s settled. My fee will be $900 a day, that’s $112.50 an hour. Unless for some reason I get shot at then it’ll be $1500.”

“$1500?”

“Look. I really doubt I’ll get shot at. To be honest, I don’t advise hiring me. What we have here is a bunch of men who are a bit paranoid, and more than a bit afraid of leaving home. Frankly, I think all your problems in the world would be solved if you all stopped living with your mothers and doing their laundry. Who knows you might even get dates.”

“I have a girlfriend.” The Jerk spoke up from across the table. Jack looked down at the end of the ham sandwich he had eaten for lunch. He glanced secretly at Delilah, happy he had come forward as the liaison in the case. He pictured them together, walking down the street on a rainy, dismal night. The lamplight making a silver streak across her hair. She would pull him into a dark corner, their bodies providing the only warmth for each other…her eyes…her lips…

Delilah turned her head quickly and looked directly at Jack. She put down the pad and laid the pen across it neatly. Jack’s eyes followed the pen. It  was inlaid with mother of pearl, and was slightly pink in color. She folded her hands across the table, arranging her fingers delicately over one another.

“Actually. I don’t think you need me at all.”  She said finally. “Why don’t you talk about it, and let me know. I mean, this all sounds fairly pathetic. I truly feel for all of you. It must be terrible to suffer the loss of a parent like that, but really. I would recommend therapy before spending your money on me. A case like this would go absolutely no where. You must be aware of how hard it is, in this day in age, to bring a senator to trial?  Even supposing….”  Delilah stopped, shook her head. She let out a sigh. “Supposing nothing. I can’t do it. There is no case here. But, you, of course, are the client. I have to get back to the office. I have work to wrap up by the end of day. Stefan?”  His head popped out from right behind the door jam. Delilah laughed. “Can you bring me the check please?”

What a dumb shit.  Delilah looked out the window from her perch on the bar stool. The stool in the far corner of the second floor of her bar. The dumb shit to whom she referred was the driver of a black Porsche. She watched as a fist slammed the steering wheel several times in succession. Her laughter punctuated each motion. She toyed with one of her red curls, rolling the permed lock between her fingers. A young man stepped out of the car. Hush Puppy into slush. The storm had hit suddenly, and would be gone by the next day. Delilah’s grin grew even broader as she imagined the freezing muck seeping into his socks and between his toes. The man swore. She watched as the word “fuck” hit the freezing air and drifted away. A passerby in a ski jacket stopped and offered to help push the car out of the ditch. Damn. It shouldn’t be this easy, the rich bastard.  Delilah sipped her third drink, not revealing her alcohol content.  She leaned against the back of the stool, and touched the soft cashmere which hung there under her coat. The Porsche was, at this point, out of the ditch and off the road. The young man opened his door and looked into the bar. At that moment, Delilah let out a giggle and the men watching pool at the other end of the room paused in their conversations to look at her. They wondered if they could catch a glimpse of her belly, exposed between the bottom of her sweater and her Levis. Delilah jumped to the floor as Jack entered the door downstairs. Time for another anyway. She polished of the last of her drink and headed down, giving her audience an extra swing of the hip as she rounded the corner to the staircase. One of the women bent over her pool stick cleared her throat and hollered at her man. “Hey! What are you looking at? You really think you could get a piece of that?”

Jack stood leaning against the bar, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He looked pathetic. And hot. The drinks had gone to Delilah’s head, she no longer cared to be gracious.

“So, Jack is a little rich boy?  This I didn’t know. And is Mummy doing something to upset you?”  Jack swung around, his eyes narrowing.

“Great. I needed you to top off this day.”  She leaned in as if to tell him a secret.

“Well next time there’s a freak snowstorm in New England, you might not want to drive the Porsche.”  Delilah examined her lipstick in the mirror behind the bar. Jack eyed her in the mirror, torn between his lust and his annoyance at being so easily shoved off.

“Look. I obviously didn’t come here to see you. You already said you wouldn’t take the case.”

“Oh did I?  I remember saying it didn’t sound like anything to hire me over.”

“That’s fine, Delilah. I’ve hired someone else.”

“Oh?  Who?  Do tell?  I know there is such a large selection of detectives in the greater valley area.”  Jack paid for his beer and turned to face Delilah through the smoke. He pursed his full lips.

“Ok. I lied. Do you play pool?”  A bold move for such a boy.

“Do I play pool?”

“Yeah. I’m having a beer, I’d like to play pool.”

“There are tables upstairs.”

“Well, can I have the pleasure of kicking your ass?”  Even bolder. This could be interesting. Fiery men attracted her intensely.

“You couldn’t. But if it will give you some small amount of satisfaction… I’ll be up in a second.”  The bartender walked over and handed Delilah a lemon drop.

“Delilah, you look great tonight. And such a nice job with the eyeliner. I never know how you do it.”

“Thank you, sir. Is that a new vest?” He stepped back to model. Dee smiled and looked at the drink. “I can’t possibly be that much of a lush, David…”  She looked at him quizically.

“It is a new vest! I saw it in the boutique window, and you know I HAD to have it. Jack got it you the drink. Long time since he’s been around, eh Dee?”  David’s eyes followed Jack as he went up the stairs.

“I thought he just moved here.”  Delilah tried to seem half interested.

“Moved back. His father,” he leaned in across the bar “before he died, used to own the diner. That was years ago though.”

“How did he die?”

“He was shot in the parking lot when he was locking up one afternoon. Dismal, rainy day.”  Her mind caught on the difference in details. Was Jack lying to her?  Or did he honestly not know the truth regarding his father’s untimely demise?

“Who did it?”

“Never did find out who. Though a lot of us thought it was the wife. I suppose that’s why she moved away, taking young Jack with her.”

“Why the wife?”

“Delilah, it was a long ago. Women got caught in marriages in those days.”  David wiped his bar rag across the wood, cleaning up the spills of the last few minutes one broad sweep. “He a case of yours?”  His eyes twinkled with mischief. Delilah tossed her head and laughed.

“He’s a case alright. But not mine. No thank you.”

“Hm. I could take a crack at him then.”

She stepped back onto the sultry, darkly-lit second floor. She panned over the people she had not noticed before. She walked over to a table and placed her quarters down, firmly, but ladylike. She stood back and sipped her beer. Jack walked over with two sticks.

“I’ll choose my own.”

“Fine.”  Jack stood up straighter and paused, examining her stance. “No one is that upset that you’re not taking the case. We thought you might, but oh well. The pool stick was a peace offering of sorts.”  Delilah considered this and changed her mind.

“It’s all good, Jack. Really.”

“Alright, then let’s play. We’re up.”  Delilah took the stick and threw it up out of her hand genlty, feeling it’s weight. She tapped the end on the floor.

“So you’re from around here.”

“I’ve only been here four months. I told you that at lunch.”

“David says you’ve been around before.”

“David?”

“The bartender. So you were here before?”

“When I was two. I don’t remember much of it.”

“Why did you move?”

“My father had a heart attack. This town wasn’t enough for my mother without him. She needed to start again.”  Delilah motioned Jack to the pool table. The other players had apparently abandoned the game. Not wanting to compete. “Well?  Want to break?”

“No, you break. It’s never been my strong point.”  Delilah shrugged and leaned over the table, glad she had worn that particular sweater; revealing at the belly, but not too much cleavage during a pool game. She’d always hated showy woman. She held no deep respect for men, but she didn’t feel that trickery was necessary. After all, they were what they were. She hit the cue ball square following through with the full length of her arm. A good clean break, though nothing went in. “Do you think about your father ever?”

“Not really until recently. It seems to come up a lot. Especially with the people who remember me as a toddler. I mean it’s so normal nowadays. Women do raise their children alone. Not having a father seems par for the course at this point.”  The crack of a ball as Jack sank a low into the far corner. Silly man the stripes are arranged so much closer to the pockets. He leaned walked around the table, looking for his next shot.

“Well I probably won’t make this one, but the four in the side pocket.”  Easy shot, c’mon, I could make that. Jack made the shot easily. “I guess there’ll be a new man soon anyway.”

“Oh yeah?  Jacq’s the Ax is going with someone?”

“Please. Her name is Jacquelyn Sebastion. I never thought she would, but she’s been seeing this guy from city council, I suppose that’s one reason we came back…”  Jack took another shot, a bank that he didn’t have to take, he could have sliced it in more easily.

“I thought your mother was…”  Delilah looked at the table, trying for all purposes to look like she was simply making conversation. Sometimes people got edgy if they thought you were interrogating them. The game would be over with this, maybe the next turn. Maybe she’d give him the game.

“Look I know how that looks. She’s this accomplished woman author and all, prestige, founder of the women’s cohousing efforts. But she’s not anti-male. And the councilman, he’s a lawmaker too, not just some houseboy.”

“Hm.”  Delilah bent to begin her sweep. She decided on the hardest shot first, a split through two balls, one in each corner pocket. “So, you’ve lived in Women’s Cohousing all your life?”

“Oh yeah. For the most part my upbringing was normal, the usual posse-of-women-on-huge-estate arrangement. It wasn’t until she met this guy that she left. I think she started to feel that living without men entirely wasn’t the answer either.”

“Was she ever with a woman? I mean romantically?”

“No. She never dated women to any extent. Oh, I don’t know, I’m probably being naive. Maybe she did. Thinking about it, there were many she was really close to, but… why?”

“I was just curious. I like to get to know the players I’m investigating.”

“You’re not even taking the case…”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t taking it. But I guess you don’t want me to.”  Delilah hoped she had led him in the right direction. Actually, this was beginning to sound interesting, Jack had suspicions about his mother. Why?  Because she was in an out-of-the-ordinary relationship with a man. Of all people, a man in government. She had never pictured Jacquelyn Sebastion, one of the original founders of the Women’s Cohousing worldwide, as one to fall out of her own doctrines for the sake of…of what?  Love with a man?  She grinned slightly and sank another ball, banked to the side pocket. She wondered which council member he was. Hopefully not one of the dead ones. There had to be something that led her out of her niche…there had to be a reason.

“Look,” she began as she put away the last ball before the eight, “I think maybe there is something more. I mean I don’t know exactly yet what your suspicions are, and you’re going to have to be honest with me, but maybe it’s worth investigating anyway.”  They were wrapping up the three last cases, nothing pressing had come in, a few affairs, a few male prowlers around Cohousing areas, nothing that would take any time. The only involved cases they attracted were those that involved extreme discretion. She swelled in a moment of pride. “So what do you think?  I didn’t mean to put you off so lightly, I just didn’t think there was anything there.”

“You think there’s something there?”  Delilah sighed.

“No. Not yet. But it’s worth investigation. How about I do a day’s research, and if I see anything, you can hire me then. First day free.”  It would be something to pass the time. Something to keep the money coming in. Not that they were hurting, but one always had revenue to think of.

“Hey, Li.” Max came through the door with her own key. “Was’up?” Delilah sat on top of the butcher block between the kitchen and the living room. She was painting her toenails. She watched Max out of the corner of her right eye.

“I’m pondering the ills of society. Deciding whether or not this new case has anything to it.”

“Done any preliminary yet?” Max walked behind Dee to the bar. “Newcastle?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“You want one?”

“No, gin & tonic.” Shit, why did the color insist on bleeding onto the skin? She ran her finger nail along the edge of her toe and wiped it on a cotton ball. “Well, I haven’t watched her intentionally.”

“Unintentionally?” Max turned on the ice machine. Dee heard the crushed chips fall into the glass. While the machine’s motor purred she stretched out her leg and examined the gold. She wasn’t quite satisfied with the color. Maybe after another layer.

“Saw her in the laundromat the other day.”

“You were doing laundry?” Max was shocked.

“No.” Delilah laughed out loud, “Stopped at the bar. Saw her through the window next door. Middle of the day, she was the only one in there.”

“Hey. Jacqueline Sebastion does her own laundry. Who’d a known?”

“Seems as though she was this time. They were men’s clothes.How strange is that?” Max came around the front of the butcher block and took a seat on the barstool.

“Well then.”

“See what I mean? No sense at all. First off that she was in the laundromat, second that it was some man’s load. Could just be her son’s laundry, but why is she doing it then? Why isn’t he in there doing hers?”

“She’s the leader of the Women’s Revolution. A leading politician. She’s not going to do her own laundry, let alone her son’s.”

“Someone else’s son maybe?” Delilah giggled. Delilah finished her last toe and put the cap back on the bottle. She swung around on her butt and extended her legs down the wood surface, striking a sexy pose, bust thrust outward, head back.

“Oh please,” Max laughed, “where’s the oil? Yes,” her voice grew serious again. “Oh yes, there’s something to it.” Max took a sip of beer. Delilah looked at her. Max looked up from over her drink. She reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out her cigarettes.

“Well?”

“You talked to Ahmi lately?”

“I thought she was out shooting pictures for her case.”

“She is. I’ll let her tell you. I think she found something.”

“Why didn’t she call me from her cell?”

“She wanted to develop the pics to be sure.”

“Just tell me.” Max looked at Delilah.

“C’mon now,” she said, “It’s Ahmi’s work. You know how she is about that. I’m not going to deflate her sails. Besides, she told me in one of those excited moods. A long jumble of words… I barely managed to catch the ‘I found something’ part, let alone the related. So honestly, I don’t know anything. We’re meeting here tonight anyway aren’t we?”

“Oh I see, because you’re out of beer.” Max grinned her response. Delilah let out a sigh and swung down to the floor.

“Max, do you ever think about long term?”

“Long term what? The business?”

“Oh. No. Not that. Finding someone…”

“I’m too young yet.”

“I suppose.”

“Why?”

“I’m just restless. That’s all. Something’s got to be coming soon.” And I’m  painting my toenails.  “Well, I’m adjourning to my tub. Would you like to soak?”

“Nope. Just wanted to use you for your alcohol. I’m going upstairs to my own apartment. I think Boy’s coming over for awhile. Can I borrow a polish though? I feel like primping.” Max turned and headed down the hallway.

“Sure. They’re in the cabinet. Maybe I’ll call a boy tonight.” Delilah could hear the glass bottles being shifted around on her bathroom shelf.

“Ah ha. Here’s the one.” The cabinet door closed and Max reappeared. She held up a bottle of brilliant blue.

“You have to bring that one back though. I’m gonna call Tommy.”

“Li… I hope that’s all about a quick fuck. You told me last week you were over the dating game, you’re leading him on with your uncertainty.”

“Well, I’ve got to quit hoping for the romantically real thing.”

“You know Dee, sometimes I think you grew up in another era. Men are only good for certain things. This is an established fact. They’re not going to save your soul and get you into heaven.”

“Yeah. Well… at any rate.”

“So are we meeting later tonight?”

“Around eleven.”

“Sounds good.” Max walked over to her coat.

“We partying tonight?”

“No plans as of yet. But one never knows… later.” Max headed out the door. Delilah headed to her hot tub. Dropping her robe as she went. She imagined a camera filming her. The lights warm on her back. A thousand admiring eyes. Just one pair would be nice.

Delilah lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Despite her orgasm, she was still restless. She leaned over the side of the bed and opened the brown wood box she kept just under it. She looked at her collection of vibrators. After fingering the wet gel, she shut the lid. This isn’t about  a good fuck Delilah. What is wrong with you?  She got up and headed to her kitchen. It was the one room in the house that could cheer her up. She liked to see the Terracotta tiling on the floor and countertops. She liked to recall the craftswoman who had installed it. In her mind, she saw the woman’s lower back exposed over her Dickies, the white tank top rolling up at the edge revealing the tatoo on the small of her back. She opened the fridge and got out the milk. Put that thought away Lile. She poured the milk into the pan and put it on the stove. She turned around and let her eyes roam over her house. Pile of mail sitting on the edge of the butcher block, coat slung over the back of one stool. The other stools perfectly aligned to the countertop. Across the block in the corner of the living room, the stereo cabinet stood dark and silent. The fireplace was cold. She never watched tv anymore. She became ill at the sight of most of it, all the happy couples galloping through the trees, or all the HBO couples just getting fucked. When the phone rang, Delilah jumped. She knocked over the carton of milk.

“Delilah?”

“God Jack,”  Delilah sighed,  “I told you never to call me at home. What, you ran out to find a phone book as soon as you had a break from work? Where are you calling from?” She stretched her fingers out to examine her manicure. Finally, a manicurist on whom she could depend. And he had a nice ass. That was always an added bonus. Her eyes shifted to the milk across her floor.

“I’m not an idiot. I’m calling from a pay phone. Can we meet somewhere? Now?”

“Jack, it’s ten o’clock. I’m in for the night.” Jack whined. She picked up the sponge and squeezed it out above the sink.

“Delilah, I think this is important.”

“You’re not our sole concern. There’s the Stolen Dog and the Ice Cream Truck, the Mystery of the Desert Rose. The Paranoid Sons is not my only friggin’ case.” She knelt on the floor, aware of her robe falling open. She examined her cleavage as she sopped up the milky mess with soft, broad strokes of her arm.

“I need to see you right now. Can we meet at The Market?”

“Could you pick a more crowded place at this hour?”

“She’s at home D. She can’t see us.”

“How do you know she’s at home?”

“I can see her in the windows from here.” Delilah stood up, and slapped the sponge against the porcelain sink

“Hello! Jack! You’re calling from the pay phone outside the house?”

“Yeah, What’s wrong with..”

“What’s wrong with that?”What a nimrod. “I’ll break it down for you?  If you can see her, she can see you.”

“Cannot!  I’m wearing a big coat.”

“Which she’s probably hung up for you thirty times or more.”

“I hang up my own coats.”

“Yeah right Jack. And I suppose you do the family laundry too.”

“I do!”

“Jack, I’ve seen what she’s washing in the laundromat, and I know better. Those clothes aren’t hers.”

“What do you mean she’s doing laundry? What do you mean they aren’t hers?” Delilah felt a surge of pleasure. There was definitely something going on. The thrill had begun. Something new to focus on. A case to take up her mind space.

“They belong to some guy. Unless she has a fetish for tighty whities. Look Jack, can we get off the phone now?”

“Are we meeting at The Market or what?”

“This better not take long Jack.”  She waited for a response. “Jack?”

“Are you sure she wasn’t doing her own laundry?  Why would she be doing a man’s laundry?”  Hello?  That’s the point.

“In ten minutes Jack. Ten.”

She hung up the phone and walked briskly through the bath to  her dressing room. She didn’t bother turning on the lights. Sweats and jeans. There was no way she was putting on underwear at this hour. She admired herself in mirror. Even in complete grub wear, I  look good. She grabbed a pair of white socks and her platform loafers and headed out back down the hall.

“So. D. Get this. I got him. Pictures and all.” Delilah screamed and jumped away from the figure sitting on her couch. “Jesus Lile. What’s wrong? Where are you headed? We have a meeting. Max will be here any second. I closed my case, it’s over. Philanderer no more.” Ahmi chuckled her master-of-the-case chuckle. Deviant glee. Delilah was always surprised to hear it. It was so easy to forget that Ahmi’s naivety was a front. She got away with so much as a sleuth because of it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” Delilah reached for her composure and squeezed into it. “I have to go meet Jack at the Market.”

“Jack, who’s Jack? Certainly you haven’t found a little concubine without letting us check him out first.”

“Client, Ahmi, client.”

“Oh. The Gas Station shirt? He was kind of cute.”

“An idiot. I told him we’d look at his case and… look, I’ll be back within a half hour. Do you want to wait? I’ll explain then.”

“Well, God. Don’t congratulate me or anything.

“Congratulations. Your case is closed,”  Delilah droided. “You’ve been working on this case so hard. You even had to sit in your car and follow him to work.”

“Well you don’t have to be mean about it. It’s not my fault you chose to take on the ignoramous. If you’d at least be civil, I’d show you why this is important to you. Christ. Never mind. I’ll go find Max. At least she’ll break open a bottle and give me a toast.”

“Sorry Ahmi. I’m sorry. You just really scared me. Let’s open some champagne when I get back. I’m sorry, I’m cranky.” Ahmi considered the apology sadly. Delilah winced and made her truly, really  face. Apology accepted. “Ahmi, I’ll cheer with you as soon as I get back from my latest enthralling mission.”

“So. The Market. That’s a nice enclosed, private space.”

“Hey, I tried to tell him. I wonder if we should really work this one.”

“We definitely should.” Ahmi’s voice was rarely this firm.

“You sound convinced.”

“Delilah, you will not believe what I’ve captured on film. He wants you to investigate his mother, right? Jaqs the Ax?”  Ahmi fumbled around in her suede bag. Delilah imagined Mary Poppins pulling out the mirror and the lamp. Jane and Michael watching wide eyed. “Damnit,” Ahmi stomped her foot. “I know it’s here somewhere. Hold on….Oh god damnit.”  She flipped her pack upside down and poured it out on top of the polished wood floor. Delilah sighed. Ahmi picked through the various envelopes, lipsticks and notepads she had in her purse. Delilah caught a glimpse of a photo from the Case of Executive MacMillan; Lost. The one of him patting Senator Sanders’ ass. The press had lept on it, but before there was even time for response, The Executive had disappeared completely. He hadn’t even called in sick. Oh well. “Here it is. Look.” Ahmi held out her trophy for admiration.

“Holy shit. It’s her.” Taken at a distance, but very clearly her. Jacqueline Sebastion was having an affair with Councilwoman Sander’s husband. This must be the man she left her community for, the man to whom Jack referred over pool. Why would she sleep with another woman’s husband? She shook her head sadly.

“Well, it must have been his laundry then.”

“She did his laundry?” Delilah shrugged.

“It’s a great shot Ahmi. Wow.” She examined the photo closely. Indeed it was Jack’s mother. Her head bending closely toward the councilman’s. Delilah knew she was looking at something far more important than a casual chat, but she was stymied to draw any conclusions.

“And look at this…” Ahmi’s finger pointed to a car in the unfocussed background. A car. A government car.

“What Senator was in town today?”

“Sanders, of course, that’s why I was there. And why these two were saying adieus in the parking lot behind the old movie theatre.” Ahmi rifled through the junk on the floor and pulled out a magnifying glass. “Look, there she is, in her car, watching this whole liaison.”

“Could just be a coincidence.”

“An unhappy coincidence if so…” Something was not right about it though. Delilah cocked her head to the side and let one of her curls fall into her mouth. She twisted the end around with her tongue.

“I simply can’t imagine Ms. Sebastion choosing a married man. I can’t imagine she would risk being spotted when she knows Sanders is around.”

“Neither can I, unless she did it on purpose. Delilah, our two cases may be tied…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly, but what if….” Ahmi shook her head and shrugged. “But you have to go. Are you mentioning this photo to Jack?”

“No. Not yet. I don’t think it would be wise. I mean, it could mean anything without the corraborating evidence. Can I take this with me? I’d like to have it. Just in case there are any last minute decisions, you know bribery…”

“Blackmail, I understand. Yeah, take it. Hey, will you get me a latte while you’re there? Double with a shot of Hazelnut?”

The last bastion of smoker’s rights in New England: the only place left to sit down with coffee, the paper and a cigarette, the Market was a dim place. Heavy tapestries covered the walls. Tapestries that had come from someone’s mother in law. Old curtains from the early seventies, oranges and golds, cleverly disguised as wall decoration. Lampshades were stained from years of smoke, and held together with wire hangers. Couches and old easy chairs were strewn carelessly about the room. More than one person had fallen, spilling their hot tea upon an innocent lap. Delilah never stumbled as she followed the woven path to her usual lazy-boy. The lazyboy which some locals referred to as “Delilah’s Throne”. It seemed reserved specifically for Her use. Specifically for her use because it allowed her uncovered legs to be laid out fully. Many locals chose their own seats accordingly, aligning themselves strategically with the clear view to those gracious limbs. Though every body that sauntered into the room, skirted or non, was fully scrutinized, none had ever been an object of such satisfaction.

It was on her throne where Jack found her, head bent to her notebook, her red curls piled on top of her head. He was afraid he had missed her. But to miss that skin, the skin that pulled him to her as soon as he entered the room, was impossible. Jack had not previously entered the Cafe. He had no prior knowledge of the woven path through the carelessly thrown chairs. He knew nothing of the lamps and furniture specifically placed to ward off the tourists. Nothing of Delilah’s Throne. He stepped forward and she seemed to draw nearer to him. He stepped forward and suddenly the gap between them started to close. He could see now the full length of her leg, fully extended, resting on the chair across from hers. Her head still bent, the golden glow of the lamp next to the throne shone on her silky neck. Even closer now, each red curl seemed to come alive and beckon to him. Others turned to stare at this young man, so apparently taken by the sight to which they had grown so accustomed. Some grew jealous, some shook their heads, knowing all too well the extent to which Jack was destined to fail. Others stood up to warn him, but too late as Jack stumbled over the coffee table and fell to his knees. On his knees next to Delilah, his face buried in that heavenly pocket of her lap.

He knelt, stunned, for just a moment. In a mixture of dread and longing he looked up to Delilah’s face, haloed by her hair in the lamplight. Delilah looked down on him in disgust.

“Well Jack. So nice to see you again. I was, however, under the impression this was a business visit. If it is otherwise, I will have to insist we meet in another time and place. This is simply inappropriate.” Jack jumped to his feet and started to stutter. He fell to his right, into the table holding the lamp. She delighted in his discomfort. He righted the lamp. He turned to sit, but the chair opposite her was not where he thought it was. He grabbed onto the back and pulled it under him in the nick of time. “Sit still Jack. I would ask if you wanted some coffee, but obviously you’ve already had enough.” Delilah closed her notebook deliberately and reached onto the table for her cigarettes. He watched her lips curl around the filter and close in as she brought up the flame of her engraved zippo. “So, what is it you have to tell me? Let’s go Jack. I haven’t got all day. Please get on with it.” He imagined her beneath him, uttering those very words. The spell broke.

“I found this in my mother’s laundry basket.” Jack passed up to her a plastic grocery bag. Delilah took it with the tips of her fingers.

“What’s this?”

“Look at it later?”

“Tell me what it is, Jack.” She advised gently, lowering the bag to the floor next to her chair.

“A shirt.”

“A shirt. Very good. Now what exactly is my interest in this shirt?”

“It has blood on it.”

“Ok. It has blood on it.”

“Delilah, don’t you find that a bit unusual?”

“In a man’s closet, yes, in a woman’s, no. We tend to bleed on an extremely predictable schedule. Is there anything peculiar about this shirt?”

“No, it’s a flannel LL Bean… I mean, yes. It’s the same shirt that Executive MacMillan was wearing the day he disappeared.”

“Jack, many people in New England rely on LL Bean to clothe them the better part of six months out of the year.”

“Look. I told you before, when I described my case to you, my mother is acting very strangely. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I can say she was out of the house that night with her women’s group. I can say they’re extremely secretive about their goings-on when they are out together. I’m telling you Delilah, this is more than I can understand. Don’t roll your eyes at me. That’s what you do isn’t it?  Take over when there’s more to something than meets the eye?” Delilah took the comment in and swished it around like wine. She reached for her notebook. Jack’s eyes followed her burgundy nails. She leafed through several pages. A slow smile taking hold of her face. There was an outburst from across the room. A man stood up, obviously upset.

“Oh jesus, Karen. Please don’t take it this way.” The woman answered softly, her head high. A lover’s quarrel, the probable end of a relationship. Delilah sighed. This was why she stayed away from them entirely. They were simply too messy. Emotional bullshit… she cut herself short and turned her attention to the matter at hand. She held open the notebook for him to examine.

“See Jack? I already started. But first we need to get to some truths here. I need to be certain you are being honest with me at all times. That’s rule number two.”

“And now I’m asking, as I am supposed to, what then is rule number one?”

“I will not tonight, nor will I ever, nor will you ever ask me, to fuck you.” Jack grinned up at her from his spot on his knees on the floor.

“That’s fine Delilah. Because I get off just watching your curves.” Delilah tried to be offended. Delilah tried to be offended because she knew the laws of womanhood in the nineties. But as she and Jack were both fully aware, the laws of womanhood in the nineties were actually quite vague.

She leaned against the mirrored wall of her elevator. She passed the office floor and winced. Though she loved the convenience of having her workplace in the building with her house, she sometimes wondered whether it limited her world. The elevator dinged and she fished in her pocket for her keys, balancing the coffee tray in her other hand. She pushed open the door with her shoulder, wondering that waitresses could manage this for a living. Ahmi and Max sat together on the floor in front of the couch. They stopped giggling as Delilah came in.

“Hey. Want some vodka?” Max held up the bottle. “I’m afraid we didn’t wait for you.” Ahmi got up to get a glass from the kitchen.

“What were you two laughing about.”

“We thought you should turn down the case and take Jack on as your lover. You know, that would be a good connection for you. Author Jacquelyn Sebastion.”

“You know how I feel about relationships.”

“…but just think about this one. Getting in good with the upper echelons..”

“I’m investigating his mother for him, Max.” Her face froze.

“So we’re taking it. Are you out of your mind?” Max waited for Dee’s response. Ahmi sat down on the side of the couch, observant.

“Delilah, we’ve investigated other bigger cases like this, but usually for the men players. Were you going to check this out with us first?”

“We’re having our weekly meeting aren’t we?” Delilah looked to Ahmi, who handed her a tumbler.

“This better be good Lile.” Max poured in the wine, careful to spill only one drop on Delilah’s wrist.

“It’s probably nothing, but…there’s the offhand chance there’s murder involved.”

Max tossed her hair and reached for a cigarette.

“Dee, you know full well that congress does not like to be investigated, nor does the public like to hear about the crimes they commit. And the women’s movement won’t want to hear about corrupt women congressionals. This is a really bad idea. I don’t want to take a case that would bring us under such scrutiny.”

“Obviously this will require the utmost discretion. But what if, just say, what if, we find out there is something underhanded going on. Men are imbecilic slime, and this would be a triumph.” Ahmi leaned forward.

“You’re saying that Jacquelyn Sebastion has committed murder.”

“No, in fact I suspect not. But she has been found oddly close to some men who have disappeared. And if …”

“One man. A man. If nothing.” Max interupted “I’m not going to be involved with rocking this boat.”

“You don’t have to help me with this one, Max. I promise it’s mine. If this all comes out badly, you can make a public stink of kicking me out of the Agency. But I’ve a feeling about this one.”

“Max, Lile’s right. We can’t be giving preferences to paying clients on the basis of gender and stature. It comes down to the level of equality here. I’ll help with the case.”

“Bleeding heart liberals. Do what you will. Let’s get drunk.”

“Coffee Dee?” Ahmi was filling a mug when she asked.

“Mm.”

“Cream?”

“Lots.” Delilah moved slowly from her place at the end of the hallway to the round table.

The question was which one of the girls…Max? She’d be a give away if she got caught. She’s too sharp to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Delilah was in the bookstore, getting in some thinking time the buddhism section. She always found this bookstore a good place to sort things out. She was holding a copy of “The Tibetan book of living and dying”. Ahmi, now she would look all sorts of innocent. Oops, did I stumble into a private meeting? She would grin and giggle and blush. I’ll just head out the way I came, sorry to disturb…Yes, Ahmi would be perfect. She felt someone brush behind her. The woman who normally worked on the second floor was shelving books. She was tall. Her long corkscrew curls fell every which way, hiding most of her from Delilah. Except one small patch of a very smooth white neck. Delilah had an urge to run her finger over it. The woman stood up and swung around.

“Sorry,” she said “Have to shelve while we can, the store is quiet right now. Good book.”

“Is it? It looked interesting and I..”

“Well, if you want to talk about it when you’re finished, feel free to come back and see me. I can recommend others.” Delilah looked at her lips. Absolutley the kind of lips you want to kiss. Her breath caught in her throat.

“That would be..great.” For once at a loss for words. A chill ran down her body, she felt her thighs growing hot inside the silk. “Um, my name’s..”

“Delilah. I know. Hard to avoid agency in town. It’s kind of an attention getter. I’m Pele.” She extended her hand. Short nails, well kept. Long slender fingers. “They’re a bit rough. I play bass whenever I can…” Delilah remembered the hands of the only bassist she had ever known. A high school affair, but the one that had taught her about pleasure, his penis had been so perfect. She looked at the hand still extended in front of her. Her wits came back to her suddenly.

“Sorry, I’m afraid I was a bit caught there, in the book you know.” She shook Pele’s hand. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance. I’ve seen you in here, isn’t the children’s section yours?”

“The buddhism section is usually mine, but we had someone walk out last month. They haven’t replaced her yet. You know, you’d like to think most people are capable, but it just isn’t the case. Not in a place like this…well back to work.” She stood looking into Delilah’s eyes for a moment longer. “You know, you should really be with a woman.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said you should come back and talk to me when you finish reading that. I like to hear people’s thoughts on it.” With that Pele’s crystal blue eyes turned and went back to the counter on the other side of the spiral staircase. Delilah stood with her mouth open. She could have sworn she had heard correctly the first time.

“Girl it’s obvious.”

“What’s obvious.” Max’ face was a portrait of stating the obvious. “You have to get in good with that group.”

“It’s been years since I’ve been to a meeting.”

“Well no one’s going to know the difference. You have to get closer to her in a way she won’t ever suspect.” Max took a drag off her cigarette and played with the cherry against the ashtray.

“Oh god.”

“Pretend you’re looking for a match or something. One of their sons to get it on with, catch up on the current politics, c’mon.”

“Can’t you or Ahmi do it?”

“Ha! Me. Yeah. Right. Involved in radical politics. Mm hmm. Think again. No one would buy that. But you..”

“What about Ahmi? She’s perfect! She can blend in to any environment anywhere and make everyone love her. Besides, I’d have to give up my pink jumpsuit and the lavender sweatpants. I can’t. I simply can’t.”

“No. You’re wrong. It has to be you.” Delilah fingered the folds of her leather couch.

“Shit. Shit. I need another gin and tonic damnit.” Delilah stood and brushed herself off. “Fuck”

Local Detective Staves off Attacker with Fountain Pen, Northampton, MA. AP

Delilah

No one could ever have guessed they were there. Looking into the dark a passerby would only see the outlines of two trees next to the high stone wall of the old mental hospital. The ancient and ghost riddled complex closed down nearly 40 years ago now. Should anyone happen to be traipsing through they’d be so concerned with getting caught themselves; probably two young lovers, escaped from their houses after hours, delirious with lust and praying their parents wouldn’t find out. He’d have a sly grin on his face, she would be starry eyed and gazing up at him. They would never even notice the two figures slowly making their way up the trees and over the wall into the old hospital.

They had reached the most difficult part. And the most exposed. They had to move from the trees to the top portion of the wall, scaling the rest carefully, so as not to drop any pieces of the loose stone to the ground below them. Ahmi was an expert climber. She’d learned rock climbing while visiting her fiance in Colorado two years ago. He was still her fiance. He still lived in Colorado. She anchored the rope above her and checked the knots on her belt. She found grips easily, and moved her body onto the wall. She led with her left hand, reaching for a finger ledge she couldn’t see, but trusted was there. She found it. Foot hold, right hand, foot hold…. she was well on her way. She passed a jumar to Max. Who moved silently onto the wall underneath her. Ahmi ran through the list of necessary items attached to her body. The infrared camera, and night vision units that Delilah had picked up at the last ISpy Convention in Las Vegas. Oh what a time they’d had. She shook the thoughts out of her head. Focus, focus and steady.  She looked down. Max was barn doored, looking for a left hand. Ahmi slid down alittle, and offered her foot. She directed Max’ hand to the invisible crevice she had found. An owl was awake and calling, the sole accompaniment to their stealth.

Ahmi reached the top and swung her legs over the side. “One with the tree. I am one with the branches. I am part of the bark and the wood.” Ahmi chanted to herself under her breath. Max rested her elbows over the top, her feet securely in footholds. She pulled her night vision unit over her head and secured the straps in the back. Checking her compass she noted they were on the south wall. She looked around at the spread before her and her mouth fell open.

“What is this? Shit Ahm’s. Get your unit on. You have to see this.” Max looked up at her partner, whose figure filled her glasses entirely. Suddenly a bright beam of red light flooded her right lens. “Shit ahmi! Laser! Get down!” Ahmi laughed and lifted the front of Max’ lenses on their hinge. A cigarette cherry burned before in front of the frame. “Shit Ahm’s. What if they saw you light that?” Her friend pulled a small metal box out of her vest pocket, and pressed the back with her finger. The front started to glow red.

“Glow lighters. Gotta love ’em.” Ahmi pulled and coiled their ropes from behind them, attaching Max’ to her belt for her., Max put her lenses back down and surveyed the yard below them. Spread out below and in front of them was 3 acres of yard, half wooded garden, half manicured lawn. The walls on the west and east sides were actually the sides of buildings. A watchtower was built on the far northwest corner. Max shuddered. There was no movement as she scanned down from the tower and across the gardens. They seemed to take up about half the compound yard, the end marked by a large old weeping willow. There under it’s branches she spotted a person. A woman, in a white cotton nightgown, asleep in a hammock. Max looked for more bodies in the garden. She saw none, but noted bushes and trees that may be concealing more sleepers.

“C’mon Ahmi. Take a look at this. Sleeping bod at 11 o’clock south under the willow.”

“Hold on. You know I’m committed to the honorary puff when i finish an upward climb.” Max growled at her friend. “Ok. ok. fine.” Ahmi butted her smoke against the bricks and stuffed it into one of her many pockets.

“I’d rather survey the layout as quickly as possible and get out of here, if you don’t mind. This is ridiculous. Can you believe it? We’re spying on some of the most powerful figures on the planet today. I can’t believe we’ve even gotten this far. Shit.”

“I bet they’ve seen us already.”

“I have to give us more credit than that.” Max’ eyes moved beyond the garden on the left half of the compound and looked below them to the wide empty lawn. She noted a craggy apple tree growing at the middle of the eastern wall; the only piece of foliage on that side of the garden.

“Delilah said there was a gathering tonight. Where do you suppose they are?”

“I don’t know. I thought we’d be able to keep an eye on her. Now I’m even more uncomfortable with this arrangement.” Max flipped up her lens and thought for a minute.

“Well now what. Wait for a fox to lead us to the den?”

“Only option we have at this point. I expected to see something alittle more obvious.”

“Women chanting in a circle at the new moon?” Ahmi joked.

“Something to that affect.”

“You know that doesn’t go on anymore. What is that pile down below us? Can you focus in on it?”

“Oh please. Of course it still goes on. This is a big country, there’s got to be some of the old dinosaurs left. What pile are you looking at?”

“Straight below us. Big pile of small shiny somethings.” Max hit the zoom button two, three times and her lenses focused in.

“Shell casings.”

“Really? What gun?”

“Can’t tell from here. Though my guess would be some kind of sniper rifle.” If the pile of casings was below them, what were they shooting at? Max lifted her head across the expansive lawn, expecting to see targets set up in the middle. Then, on the far wall she saw the outlines of the male figure on paper.

“Wow. Ahmi, check out their targets.”

“Where?”

“All the way over there on the wall across from us.”

“Shit Max, sharpshooters. How many’d they bullseye?”

“How many didn’t they?”

“I wonder when they do it? You’d think people would hear them.”

“I have no idea.” Max’ voice dropped suddenly. “Hey. Warm body 12 o’clock.” Ahmi dropped down next to her friend in a catlike response. The figure seemed to be patrolling the perimeter of the garden grounds. Max focused in as the figure checked around bushes and trees, walking south toward the willow.

“Alright, I’m all serious and shit. All clear in the woods behind you.” Ahmi flipped open her steno bracelet to take notes. “Got visual? Is she carrying a weapon?”

“Ok, first of all it’s male.”

“Its male? Check again. You know how some people can be deceiving.” Ahmi entered the suspect siting into the steno, and looked back out to the woods.

“Nope. Definitely guy. Umm, small gun. Little something. Wait, it’s a glock.”

“Ok what else?”

“Nothing that i can see. No glasses or visor. Wait, climbing rope, caribiner. No laser that I can see.”

“Could be wearing it underneath the trou.”

“Um… not a possibility.”

“No? Wait, shh.” Ahmi heard something moving among the trees behind her.

“What is it?” Max kept her focus on the figure coming toward them.

“Safe. just deer. So, no laser under the trou?”

“They’ve got him dressed in a catsuit.”

“Oh man,” Ahmi’s voice was sympathetic, but she refused to avert her gaze. “How demeaning.” She pulled her own night vision unit up from its holster and held it up to her face.

“He’s stopping at the willow to bow. She’s not even awake. Wow. How positively arthurian. Long, low and from the waist. Left arm out and to the back. Shit, they’ve got this one trained.”

“Imagine having some spandex suit exposing the contours of your penis.”

“He’s moving toward us again.”

“If I had a penis that size I’m sure it would be perfectly embarassing to have to show it all the time.”

“Oh please. Tell me you don’t look. And I know i’ve heard you whistle.” Ahmi’s giggle was barely audible over the foot of distance between them.

“I do appreciate that I can check the produce before putting it in the cart.”

“See? Find the silver lining. Do you think you can concentrate now?”

“Fine.” The night vision unit dropped back into its holster and Ahmi picked up the steno pen. “Is he looking around? Checking the grounds? Is he supposed to be here?”

“He looks pretty comfortable. Like he knows the place. Anything on your side?”

“Nada. Just the woods and such.”

“He’s stopping again, tapping a tree trunk. Looks like he’s checking a locked door or something. I can’t see what he’s checking though.”

“Trapline maybe?”

“Good possibility.”

“So any other sign of life?”

“Not a soul. Sleeping Guinevere and King Arthur.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Well, I’d like to wait long enough to let this guy reach our wall, see if anyone else appears. There’s really no way to tell where the women are gathered otherwise.”

“How much time before he gets here?”

“We’ve probably got about 2 minutes. How’s everything look on your side?”

“Coast is still clear.” Max surveyed the trees in the garden to the north one more time, but she saw nothing.

“Max, what do you think of all this? Do we really expect we’re going to undercover some masterminded plot to kill off the last of the male congressmen?”

“I don’t know. Right now we don’t have any evidence. Until we do i’m reluctant to draw any conclusions.” Was that a tree or another target in there? Max squinted.

“We have the photos.”

“Yeah, so someone’s having sex with someone… that’s always been true no matter who made up the ruling class. We don’t technically know more than that.”

“True. So what’s he doing now? I’m having trouble making him out.” Max turned back toward the south to find the man in the catsuit was nowhere in sight. Max scanned the place near the wall where she last laid eyes on him and caught some movement.

“Shit he’s not there”

“Wha..”

“Hush! If I’m not mistaken, the wall over there is moving. Or part of it.” Max watched as the hole in the wall disappeared. She wasn’t really sure she’d seen it at all. But where else had the man gone?

“Well, what do you think, love? Isn’t this the lovliest nest you’ve ever seen?”

“To tell you the truth,” Delilah replied demurely, “I really haven’t ever been in one before. I mean my own mother was no one important. I never thought I’d be allowed to see all this.” The room in which Delilah was standing was far beneath the grand entry hall where she’d met the butler who took her coat. She peered through the rich burgandy brocade which hung in the doorway between the main hall and the vestibule where they stood. Delilah was finding herself pleasantly surprised at the beauty of the decor. Somehow she had been expecting some sort of fortress boot camp. Certainly not all this exquisite luxury. Jacquelyn was taking off her shoes, and placing them neatly along the wall. She motioned for Delilah to do the same. The stone floor looked cold, but not wanting to be rude, Delilah undid the laces of her boots. She’d always affectionately called them her witchy boots, and she was glad she’d kept them. They felt so appropriate to the evening.

Delilah lay on the massage table face up, eyes covered in slice of cucumber. She lay on the table which stood in the middle of the back wall of  her white tiled bathroom. The bathroom was a bower of flowers and plants. Vases full of all variety of flora stood next to the wash basin, on the vanity, and her dressing table. The plants lined the walls and the adorned the drain in the floor. There was no curtain, the shower head simply hung down from the middle of the ceiling. In the far right corner was the bathtub, a spa really, with plate glass windows behind it. The tub also had greenery and candles spread around it on the tiled ledging.

She could feel the wet mud hardening and sinking into her pores. She relaxed under the touch of skilled fingers. She had read about this massage therapist in the paper. Highly acclaimed as one of the best. She was listening to the Enya she had picked up in the bookstore, paying or it upstairs. She hadn’t wanted Pele to get the wrong impression from her purchase. The masseuse took the hose and washed off the mud, letting it run to the drain in a stream of natural brown. Delilah felt the warm water slide over her body, and the masseuse hands brushing the mud away. She was, as of this moment, thinking about the case. Supposing it had been intentional. Supposing Ms Sebastion had known Senator Sanders was in the parking lot.  Would they be trying to set him up?  No, she wouldn’t risk her own reputation that way. What if he had known?  Why would the Senator want to set up Jack’s mother?  That seemed too far fetched. Reknowned author or no, Jacquelyn Sebastion was hardly worth a US Senator’s time. No, she must have known. Must have. There is simply no way she would be that careless.

Her buzzer rang.

“Hey Dale?  It’s Max. There’s a delivery for you.”

“I’m still in my undies. Can’t they leave it down there?”

“Says it’s gotta be face to face.”

“Name?  Who’s it from?”

“He says he can’t say. But Dale?”

“What?”

“It’s alive.”

Alive?  What the hell?

“O.k.”

I throw on my bathrobe and pull at my three inch hair, amazed how long it’s grown since I last shaved it. I have one more day until I’m forcing myself to go back to work. My face has taken on this lovely shade of yellowish green, but my eyes are open. Shit, I havn’t even showered yet and some strange man is coming to my door. I must be out of my mind. Oh well.

A wiggly blur comes running in below me as I open the door. Nate is standing there, in cut off shorts and a tee shirt, leaning against the door frame. He’s waiting for my reaction. I don’t know what to deal with first, puppy or Nate. I choose the puppy.

“What is that?”  He’s casing the joint. He sticks his little head under the couch and gets stuck for a moment, then lopes toward the kitchen stopping in the doorway, inspecting.

“A puppy. A nice, big, healthy mutt. Some guy wanted me to deliver him. Said you’d always wanted a dog.”

“He didn’t give you a name?”

“Nope. I think he had a huge crush on you or something.”

“It could be anyone.”  The puppy swings his grey/brown body around to face the living room again. He spots the open door to my closet. I will have to puppy proof the place.

“Lots of people want you huh?”  I look away from the dog toward the sarcasm in his voice. I made the decision in my head. Hell, I want him. And I havn’t been, well, we’ve been over this. I look at him again.

“C’mon in.”

“Did I ask to come in?”

“I heard you quite clearly.”

He pulls me to him and pushes me into the apartment with his body, closing the door behind him. He opens my bathrobe and drops to the floor in front of me. I open my eyes only once, to see the puppy wrestling with my slipper.

We sat around my living room floor drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. I had managed to quit for awhile, but one more exception seemed warrented. My bathrobe was back on. I had given Nate a pair of my flannel boxers. I didn’t bother being modest, and I didn’t bother asking if I was one of many. I told myself I must be. But he was good, we’d been safe, and I did feel a lot less uptight. Christ. I took another drag and leaned my head against the couch. I felt him open the top of my bathrobe. I kept my eyes closed.

“You do have a delectable body.”

“Ten points for using a vocab word.”

The puppy was sleeping on the braided rug in the dining area. He was snoring alittle.

“What am I going to call him?”

“Beast.”

“Couldn’t. It doesn’t fit him.”

“It will. He’s going to be big.”

“True. I guess it will hit me. Are you hungry?  I need a burrito.”

“Nope. I’ve gotta go. Just wanted to drop off the dog.”

“Oh.”  I was mildly put off.

“Yeah. I’ll be back another time.”  He got dressed and gathered his helmet. “See ya.”  I watched the tatoo on the back of his neck until it disappeared down my stairs. I started mentally beating myself for having had random sex, and then squelched it. ‘Your choice babe,’ I told myself. I smiled ‘it was even fun.’  The infamous dog licked at my toes.

“Who gave you to me huh?  Who are you from?”  He looked up at me, grinning in the way dogs can. “C’mon. We’d better get to know each other. Let’s have a chat.”  With some effort, I scooped him off the floor. I spotted the slipper under my stereo and picked it up. I put it in front of his nose. “You can have this. And the other one too. But,”  I put him down and walked to the closet. “No, No.”  I tried to sound stern. He looked at me seriously for a moment and ran back to the half mauled slipper. He brought it back to me. “You’re not interested in my lectures are you?”  He shook the slipper and it flopped about his head. I didn’t have any dog food. He’d have to have the leftover meat loaf until I got some.

I fed the new acquiree and turned on the whirpool in the bathroom. I poured a gin and tonic and picked up Tales of the City. I red a few chapters and was interupted by the dog, who jumped up on the side of the bathtub. He wobbled a few moments before falling in. I threw down the book and pushed him out from underneath, setting him on the side behind the tub, where there was a ledge. He stood there shaking for a moment before the inevitable doggie shake. He looked pathetic. “Oh sweetie. Its o.k. It’s only a little water. Take a seat and relax, this is supposed to be fun. He jumped down, and I went back to my book. When I looked up he was sound asleep, sprawled across the basic blue tiles under the heat lamp. What a day. I closed my eyes and put down the book. What a day.

Delilah lay on the massage table face up, eyes covered in slice of cucumber. She lay on the table which stood in the middle of the back wall of  her white tiled bathroom. The bathroom was a bower of flowers and plants. Vases full of all variety of flora stood next to the wash basin, on the vanity, and her dressing table. The plants lined the walls and the adorned the drain in the floor. There was no curtain, the shower head simply hung down from the middle of the ceiling. In the far right corner was the bathtub, a spa really, with the plate glass windows behind it. The tub, also had greenery and candles. She could feel the wet mud hardening and sinking into her pores. She relaxed under the touch of skilled fingers. She had read about this massage therapist in the paper. Highly acclaimed as one of the best. She was listening to the Enya she had picked up in the bookstore, paying or it upstairs. She hadn’t wanted Pele to get the wrong impression from her purchase. The masseuse took the hoseHer buzzer rang.

“Hey Dale?  It’s Max. There’s a delivery for you.”

“I’m still in my undies. Can’t they leave it down there?”

“Says it’s gotta be face to face.”

“Name?  Who’s it from?”

“He says he can’t say. But Dale?”

“What?”

“It’s alive.”

Alive?  What the hell?

“O.k.”

I throw on my bathrobe and pull at my three inch hair, amazed how long it’s grown since I last shaved it. I have one more day until I’m forcing myself to go back to work. My face has taken on this lovely shade of yellowish green, but my eyes are open. Shit, I havn’t even showered yet and some strange man is coming to my door. I must be out of my mind. Oh well.

A wiggly blur comes running in below me as I open the door. Nate is standing there, in cut off shorts and a tee shirt, leaning against the door frame. He’s waiting for my reaction. I don’t know what to deal with first, puppy or Nate. I choose the puppy.

“What is that?”  He’s casing the joint. He sticks his little head under the couch and gets stuck for a moment, then lopes toward the kitchen stopping in the doorway, inspecting.

“A puppy. A nice, big, healthy mutt. Some guy wanted me to deliver him. Said you’d always wanted a dog.”

“He didn’t give you a name?”

“Nope. I think he had a huge crush on you or something.”

“It could be anyone.”  The puppy swings his grey/brown body around to face the living room again. He spots the open door to my closet. I will have to puppy proof the place.

“Lots of people want you huh?”  I look away from the dog toward the sarcasm in his voice. I made the decision in my head. Hell, I want him. And I havn’t been, well, we’ve been over this. I look at him again.

“C’mon in.”

“Did I ask to come in?”

“I heard you quite clearly.”

He pulls me to him and pushes me into the apartment with his body, closing the door behind him. He opens my bathrobe and drops to the floor in front of me. I open my eyes only once, to see the puppy wrestling with my slipper.

We sat around my living room floor drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. I had managed to quit for awhile, but one more exception seemed warrented. My bathrobe was back on. I had given Nate a pair of my flannel boxers. I didn’t bother being modest, and I didn’t bother asking if I was one of many. I told myself I must be. But he was good, we’d been safe, and I did feel a lot less uptight. Christ. I took another drag and leaned my head against the couch. I felt him open the top of my bathrobe. I kept my eyes closed.

“You do have a delectable body.”

“Ten points for using a vocab word.”

The puppy was sleeping on the braided rug in the dining area. He was snoring alittle.

“What am I going to call him?”

“Beast.”

“Couldn’t. It doesn’t fit him.”

“It will. He’s going to be big.”

“True. I guess it will hit me. Are you hungry?  I need a burrito.”

“Nope. I’ve gotta go. Just wanted to drop off the dog.”

“Oh.”  I was mildly put off.

“Yeah. I’ll be back another time.”  He got dressed and gathered his helmet. “See ya.”  I watched the tatoo on the back of his neck until it disappeared down my stairs. I started mentally beating myself for having had random sex, and then squelched it. ‘Your choice babe,’ I told myself. I smiled ‘it was even fun.’  The infamous dog licked at my toes.

“Who gave you to me huh?  Who are you from?”  He looked up at me, grinning in the way dogs can. “C’mon. We’d better get to know each other. Let’s have a chat.”  With some effort, I scooped him off the floor. I spotted the slipper under my stereo and picked it up. I put it in front of his nose. “You can have this. And the other one too. But,”  I put him down and walked to the closet. “No, No.”  I tried to sound stern. He looked at me seriously for a moment and ran back to the half mauled slipper. He brought it back to me. “You’re not interested in my lectures are you?”  He shook the slipper and it flopped about his head. I didn’t have any dog food. He’d have to have the leftover meat loaf until I got some.

I fed the new acquiree and turned on the whirpool in the bathroom. I poured a gin and tonic and picked up Tales of the City. I red a few chapters and was interupted by the dog, who jumped up on the side of the bathtub. He wobbled a few moments before falling in. I threw down the book and pushed him out from underneath, setting him on the side behind the tub, where there was a ledge. He stood there shaking for a moment before the inevitable doggie shake. He looked pathetic. “Oh sweetie. Its o.k. It’s only a little water. Take a seat and relax, this is supposed to be fun. He jumped down, and I went back to my book. When I looked up he was sound asleep, sprawled across the basic blue tiles under the heat lamp. What a day. I closed my eyes and put down the book. What a day.

“My shoes. You want me to look at my shoes?”  Pele looked at Dale in disbelief. “I ask if you still love me and you want me to look at my shoes. What the hell kind of lame ass illusion are you about to make?  Now this I really can’t wait to hear. PLease. This outta be even better than the ‘but I’m straight’ excuse.”

“No. Pele… I mean… wipe them on the grass or something.”  It was a classic late summer day. Hot sweaty, the gnats collecting around everyone’s wide open pores. Dirt stuck in those little holes, you almost wish you could lounge in the tub all day.  “Oh, Pele. We should have never left the house. We should have stayed in the shower.”

“See now, that’s just it isn’t it?  That’s precisely it. You don’t want anyone on the street to know you’re fucking a woman do you?  No matter that it’s Northampton. Lesbianville USA. Get it through your thick skull girlfriend, no one gives a rat’s ass about your sexuality here. There’s nothing to declare. No heads will turn. NO ONE CARES. You think people actually bother to notice whether there’s a guy or a girl gave you the hickies on your neck?  Get over yourself.”  Pele lifted her skirt and pulled her pack of cigarettes from her fruit of the loom boxer waistband. Delilah examined her creamy white thigh. She looked away exhaling loudly. Pele guffawed. “Oh my God. You’re just not straight. Deal with it. Jesus. It’s not that hard. At least not here.”

“What about JA..”

“Oh no. Not that shit sweetie.”  Pele made her nice-nice face. “That is not going to fly at all. um um. Not with me. Jack caould never make you come like that.”  A passerby joined into the conversation.

“Come like what?”  He grinned and walked on, chuckling to himself.

“See?  Even he knows. Delilah there’s the difference right there. Men are toys. You play with them. You fuck them because it’s something you’re supposed to do. But it hasn’t ever satisfied you face it. Sex is not a relationship, and that’s all you’ve got with them. But I do. I satisfy you.”  Pele leaned closer. “Don’t I?”  She breathed into the nape of Dee’s neck. “I satisfy you baby. Laying around the living room in our underwear and bras.”  She kissed Dee’s neck gently, tripping her tongue over her collarbone. “Lolling all over each other on the couch,”  Pele’s fingers appeared on her left nipple, pinching it through the victoria’s secret she had bought the day before. Her lips touched Dee’s gently, and she pulled away. Delilah grabbed her dress and pulled her back for another. Dee felt the sun burning into her hair, a bead of sweat rolled down her back over her spine. “We’ve been together for months now. It’s time. O.k? “

“Time to do what?  What is it you want me to do, Pele?”

“Delilah, my god!”  Pele shoved her away and stood up. “You can’t keep being ashamed of me. I can’t handle it  anymore. You have to stop these little patterns of yours. You freak out, you run to some man, you have sex, he gets off and you get cum all over your stomach. That’s about all you get.”

“Pele, I have not been having sex with random men, I…”

“Fuck you Dee. Fuck you. I’m not an idiot. I see you the days after, when you decide you need me again. You’re upset and sullen and you’re silent. As silent with me as you are with men in general. I’ve had it Delilah. i don’t mind being some first woman for a budding dyke. But this is going on too long. I understand your addictions better than you know. You think I never had sex with a guy before?  get over yourself child. I’m gone. Chalk me up to that freak accident that made love to you for seven months. Chalk me up to nothing. I don’t care what you do any more. because I’m done.”  Pele stood up and tucked her pack back into her waistband. She straightened herself and looked down at Delilah. She shook her head and turned around. Dee watcheds her skirt swing from side to side over her ass. She started shaking and pulled a cigarette from her purse.