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satchel, moving it from compartment to compartment.
"What did she say?"
"What did she say?"
"First, she asked why I was asking. She thought my
involvement with another woman should have precluded
curiosity."
"But it didn't?"
Clarissa took off the camera's lens cap. "Not at all. Then
she told me you were happily involved in a long-term
relationship."
"Mmm."
"Ecstatic by all accounts, that there was no chance. " She
snapped a shot, and I flinched. "I saw your partner come up
to you after the concert. She gave you yellow roses, and you
two kissed. Is she around?"
"She had to work tonight."
"She better have had a good excuse. "
"Stacey's a counselor who works in the coroner's office," I
said, my voice becoming higher and higher. "Tonight, a boy
jumped from a fifteenth-floor balcony."
Clarissa lowered the camera and shrugged. "That qualifies,
I suppose. You know what... a few months ago, someone
who looked like you came out of my apartment building."
I focused my full attention on the satchel, fumbling with the
clasp. "She did?"
"You've never been to the Promenade, on Pearl and
Alameda, have you?
I looked at her and forced a smile. "Never."
"I must have imagined you, "she said lightly.
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 12
After the visit with Alex and her mother, I returned to my car and
checked my voice mail.
No message from Fran, but there was a rambling one from
Roxanne Herbert explaining why she hadn't stopped by the
office to pick up the tape of my first meeting with her partner,
Linda. Her car was in the shop, and would I mind, she'd
requested, bringing the tape to her house.
I phoned Roxanne and told her no problem, I was on my way.
By the time I'd swung by the office to retrieve the tape and
crossed the city in rush-hour traffic, however, I did mind. The
seemingly innocuous errand already had consumed more than an
hour of nonbillable time, and I pledged to make it brief at
Roxanne's. No chitchat or lingering, get in and get out. Better
yet, stay out. Hand her the tape on the porch. An excellent idea,
except that it didn't work. We wasted ten minutes in the living
room talking about her job search, which could have been
summarized in two words. No progress.
Roxanne had circles under her eyes, tangled hair and an
outbreak of acne. "What's on the tape? Should I brace myself?"
"Not necessarily."
"How did Linda act around you?"
"She asked a lot of personal questions."
"That's because we've had problems with renters. She's looking
out for our best interests."
"When we went through the house, she always used the word I,
not we. For example, 'I've owned the property for eight years.'"
not we. For example, 'I've owned the property for eight years.'"
Roxanne picked at a thread on her tan jogging suit. "Why
wouldn't she? She does all the work."
"You haven't contributed?"
"No, and I won't. When we bought the house, I made it clear I
didn't want to fix it up or show it to tenants. I was putting in
enough hours at Qwest without taking on a part-time job."
"Out of curiosity, did Linda mention that we met?"
"Of course."
"What did she say?"
"That you'd be the ideal tenant."
"Hmm," I said, pleased.
"Don't flatter yourself. She meant that you don't have animals or
kids and that you do have a steady job. Did you tell her that
you're the principal horn player for the Mile High Orchestra?"
"She might have gotten that idea." I'd followed Fran Green's
advice. When constructing an imaginary life, make it an exciting
one.
Roxanne said unpleasantly, "My partner did get that idea."
"When you and I first met, you said Linda forms intense
attractions to women. Did you notice anything after our
meeting?"
Roxanne's answer came too fast. "Not at all."
I took a deep breath, stood and nodded. "That's probably the
end of it."
I m sure it is.
We walked to the entryway together. "After you listen to the
tape, let me know what you want to do. If you'd like, I could ask
tape, let me know what you want to do. If you'd like, I could ask
to see the house again."
"It's been rented," Roxanne replied, the blotches on her face
reddening, "and you've done enough already."
Now, what the hell did that mean? I fumed as I drove away, not
unaware that Roxanne's car was parked in the driveway.
Weren't she and I on the same side, and why had she lied?
Roxanne could deny Linda was attracted to me, but I knew
better. In accordance with the terms of the Test-A-Mate
contract, I'd produced an audiotape, but sound alone had
captured only a fraction of my interaction with Linda.
The other piece, Roxanne Herbert would never know but I
wouldn't soon forget.
As we'd parted on the sidewalk next to my car, Linda Palizzi and
I had shaken hands, and the look she'd given me when we
touched .. . this wasn't the end of it.
I zipped back to the office, impatient to resolve my dispute with
Fran, but she'd knocked off for the day, which disappointed but
didn't surprise me. Rarely did she stick around past five, much
less until seven.
I looked over a stack of invoices that needed paying and bank
statements that needed balancing and decided to avoid them all.
Instead, I turned on the computer and used a search engine to
direct me to the Colorado Lesbian Chorus's Web site, where I
found a wealth of useful information.
First, I identified the conductor of the chorus, Ellen Barry, and
sent her an e-mail explaining Alex Madigen's situation. Next, I
clicked through at least a hundred photographs, candid and
clicked through at least a hundred photographs, candid and
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