Beef Matson Archive 2

From his vantage point, Randy could see both sides of the column and what was going on. Just as he got off the barstool to run off to help the woman, the woman managed a desperate kick to one of her seated male companions and her blissfully ignorant friends suddenly became aware of her predicament and jumped up to help her. A couple people grabbed the boa from her neck and others ran around the column to make the puzzled drag performer stop his show.

As Randy sat back down, an amazed Cocoa Puffs realized what was going on. The performer then led the woman he almost strangled to the foot of the stage and in the glare of the spotlights had the woman take a couple of bows. The very embarrassed woman returned to her friends and then it was Cocoa's turn to take his bows. The audience gave him a standing ovation. He climbed back onto the stage and waving and smiling, backed his way into the wings. Offstage, Cocoa Puffs approached the M.C. In a very deep, angry voice he growled, "Would it be too much to ask to have somebody keep an eye on our little tourist friends so they don't get underfoot?" and then stalked off to the dressing room.

The M.C. once again appeared on stage thanking Cocoa Puffs for his performance. "Wasn't that a nice touch by Ms. Puffs to add strangulation by feather boa to her act?" After waiting for a round of laughter from his sarcastic comment to die down, the M.C. said there would be a slight intermission before the next performer named Peppa Spray would make his appearance. He encouraged the audience to stay and get their drinks refreshed. Some of the tourists then began to leave though still others entered the room looking for empty tables. A man passed Randy calling back to a group of people behind him that he would go outside and hail a taxi. Of that group, there were three women and one of the women was hanging onto a man, probably her husband. Randy began to hear the women talking about him.

"Back in Virginia, we have laws that say you have to be a woman to marry a man!"

"I betcha he's one of them…I bet he's gay."
As the first two women, apparently slightly inebriated, wobbled past him, they gawked at Randy as if he were an exhibit in a display case, their mouths gaping. As the third woman walked past Randy clinging to the man she was with, she stopped and directed a comment to Randy.
"Back in Virginia, we have laws that say you have to be a woman to marry a man!"
Randy ignored the woman's comment and calmly turned his head away, suddenly noticing that Beef Matson was standing next to him; the detective had just walked into the lounge. Beef looked at the woman, put his arm around Randy's shoulders and said in a deep masculine voice, "Well baby doll, you ready to go home?"
Beef then bent over and tenderly kissed Randy on the forehead. The woman glared at Beef, then Randy and at then Beef again. She then pulled on her male companion and marched towards the lounge door, the couple wobbling out of the room.
"Baby doll…?" asked Randy.
"It was for effect," answered Beef matter of factly, "Let's go."

"I think we just witnessed the fall of royalty."

This time around Randy found that Beef had no papers, documents or contracts for his briefcase. Beef also did not have anywhere else to go and would escort Randy back to his apartment. On their way out, Randy and Beef exchanged greetings with Teddy the piano player and made their way back through the crowded lobby to the street entrance. Outside on the sidewalk, they saw three drag queens heading up the walk towards them. One of the drag queens was plumpish, the one in the middle average build and the third a very slender black drag queen. Randy noted that one of the Courts must be having a meeting at the bar. The three drag queens were trying to be impressive and smiling to everyone. The plumpish drag queen who was walking on the edge of the sidewalk spied Beef and Randy and raised his white gloved hand to them in a royal wave and then had one of his high heels hydroplane on the wet pavement. His leg went up and off to the side, as if doing an impromptu Can-Can. His entire body then tipped over to the side like a toppling statue, and he fell into the evergreen bushes though first grabbing onto the queen next to him. As the queen in the middle was being pulled into the bushes after the first drag queen, his maneuvering in high heels made him look like a tap dancer in an earthquake and he grabbed onto the third skinny drag queen next to him. As the bushes engulfed the second drag queen, the skinny guy was whip lashed into the bushes as if he were a skier suddenly yanked by a speedboat. A crowd of people ran over to retrieve the fallen drag queens from the bushes. Randy looked up at Beef and quipped. "I think we just witnessed the fall of royalty."
Beef grabbed Randy by the shoulders and hustled him off to get a cab.

*********

Arriving at Randy's building, Beef insisted on going up to the apartment with Randy and even checked out Randy's apartment. He then lectured Randy on keeping an eye out for suspicious activity and what Randy should do to protect himself. Beef repeated his desire to get Randy out of his current apartment as soon as possible and into a place that Beef would consider safer, at least until Randy could get a new place. The detective was concerned about the personal security of his assistant. Randy, as usual, didn't seem to think things were that serious and he felt he could try to take care of things himself, after all, he always had. Beef Matson then put his hand firmly on Randy's shoulders and looked directly at his assistant.
"O.k., eye contact time," said Beef.
The detective had Randy look him in the eyes and told his assistant what he, Beef Matson, had in mind, what he wanted Randy to do and that would be the game plan and that it was very important that Randy go along with the plan. Beef said he knew how important being independent was to Randy but this one time he would have to trust someone else and that someone else would have to be Beef Matson. Looking directly into Beef's eyes, Randy finally nodded his approval. After the detective left his apartment and hearing Beef's footsteps going down the wooden stairs, Randy paused for a second, listening to the fading footsteps, the foghorns and street noise from outside. Then he heard a whispered voice.
"That's really a nice guy."
Randy quickly turned around and saw nothing. The voice was so faint that he wasn't sure he had really heard it. After a few moments the young man dismissed the incident. Randy then fixed himself a cup of hot cocoa and smiled to himself as he remembered the incident at the Robes Roses with Cocoa Puffs. Randy then plugged in his small display of Christmas lights in his kitchen window. Going over to the box of Christmas decorations, the young blond man pulled out a trio of small figurines and placed them on his little kitchen table. He then went back to the box and closed it up.
"Sorry, but the rest of you decorations will have to stay in the box this year. Since I'm gonna have to move soon, it doesn't make sense to put the rest of you up. But I will keep Christmas this year, if only in a small way. I always keep Christmas."
Randy then went back to his kitchenette and retrieved his cup of cocoa. He sat at his little table and arranged the decorations he had put on it. There was a little Christmas tree, an angel and a Santa. Finishing the cocoa, Randy then decided to head to bed. He left the Christmas lights on.

Randy was in a deep sleep, snug in a valley of pillows and blankets. Back at his kitchen window, rain beat against the glass and the Christmas lights shone down on the little glittering figurines. Slowly and quietly, the little angel figure began to turn. Then it began to rotate and dance as if someone were playing with it. Then the other two figurines began dancing as well, like in some tabletop ballet, glittering and sparkling in the light. Then the movement stopped and the figurines were again motionless.

A distant door slam came from the building hallway. Randy was in deep sleep and oblivious to the noise. Faint noise began coming from the front door to Randy's apartment. Pressure was gradually being applied to the door from the inside of the apartment, so that it was being forced into the doorjamb, towards the hallway as if something were leaning on it. Anyone now trying to get into the apartment from the hallway would not be able to.

*********

The next morning Randy awoke from a very comforting and refreshing sleep, in his cocoon of blankets he felt warm and secure, almost as if someone had been sleeping with him. His little apartment was chilly and the view outside was dark and cold looking. The weather report on the radio said that some extreme cold had settled into the central and western parts of the nation and the northern Pacific was continuing to hatch a series of storm systems, which continued to target the west coast. Snow had blanketed the mountains around Los Angeles and even sent a dusting of snow as far south as the mountains of northern Baja California.

Randy had gotten up a little early and decided to use the extra time to stop at the Cozy Cup for breakfast before heading to work. The radio reported how unseasonably chilly it was outside so he threw on a hooded sweatshirt over his dress shirt before he put on his heavy jacket. On his way down to the Castro, Randy noted how people in San Francisco really were not used to very cold weather. It looked like people had just grabbed whatever they could to dress for the weather, trudging through the cold rain and wind like refugees.

The day at the office was mostly uneventful until the early afternoon when Beef asked Randy to accompany him to a meeting with an old client. The client owned a bar not far from the office and wanted an immediate meeting the detective to discuss a new development with an old issue. Randy grabbed his empty briefcase and they headed off to the bar. The tavern was a little neighborhood affair, small and narrow, walls decorated with posters for community events, photos and a number of teddy bears arranged behind the bar. The place was strung with Christmas decorations and lights. There was one bartender on duty with a small group of patrons at the bar near the entrance and a lone man sat at the other interior end of the bar. Beyond the interior end of the bar the owner stood near a door; he waved to Beef Matson and beckoned the detective and his assistant towards him. As Beef chatted with the animated owner, Randy stood a few feet away, examining the bar as he waited for his boss. The owner was pressed for time and wanted a quick meeting. Beef suggested that if might help to speed things along if Randy took notes during the meeting. The owner like that idea and then before starting the meeting decided to tell Beef about some new information he had acquired.

The lone man sitting at the interior end of the bar spied Randy and began to speak to him. The man was had balding gray hair and unshaven, with a day or two's growth of grayish beard. The unhappy looking man was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and a windbreaker.
"Hey," squawked the man, "I saw you on T.V., you're the guy who molested all those kids!"
The comment was loud and awkward enough to have everyone turn around and turn the bar chatter silent. The man was instantly aware of the attention he was getting and it seemed to spur him on.
"How many kids did you molest?" continued the man, "What was that number…ten or twenty?"
"I did not molest any…" Randy protested.
"Randy…" Beef Matson gently called. The detective motioned with a subtle shaking of his head that the man was not anyone Randy should bother with. The man continued to talk loudly at Randy.
"That's the way it is with you tight ass pretty boys, isn't it?" he continued. "Too stuck up on yourself so you go hunting for little boys."
Beef and the bar owner stopped their conversation with the detective glaring at the man, but the man continued to speak.
"You should just own up to it…that you're a molester, you're a pervert and get it over with." Clearly embarrassed, Randy bit his lip and turned and walked a few steps over to his boss.
"Charlie," the bartender addressed the man, "Why don't you just shut your mouth." The bartender's comment seemed to encourage the man and he continued, even more loudly.
"Hey," the man continued, "It doesn't bother me if you go after little boys, hell, I'd probably go after them too, if I had the chance. The problem I have is that you don't admit to it." Shaking his finger in the direction of Beef and Randy, the man ranted more. "You know what the problem is with guys like you…you think you're pretty good…but all you really are…are perverts. You'd be better off if you just admitted it."
"Hey, Charlie," spoke the bartender again, "You're way overboard here."
The man defiantly continued. "Hey, I'll admit it…I'm a pervert too. That's why I'm still here. I knew a lot of guys…they're all dead from AIDS now. You know why? Because they wouldn't admit to being perverts…they were all trying to be goodie, goodie. They wanted their rights and respect and they wanted to build a community. Well, they're all dead now and I'm not…and you know why? Because I knew I was just a pervert and I that's how I always behaved, so I didn't get no AIDS. You know who should be locked up? Those perverts who think they're normal and want their stupid gay marriage and their gay rights…"
"Charlie! Get your ass out of here, now!" This time the bartender was leaning over the bar with his thumb pointing to the door. Charlie turned and looked at the bartender and shook a finger at him.
"I'm a customer here and you don't talk to me like that! I can get your freakin' ass fired!" Charlie then wanted to speak with the owner who very promptly came to speak with the customer in quiet and stern tones.
"Charlie," said the owner, “I am in the midst of a very trying day and I have precious little patience for one of your little dramas. So what I want you to do is get your butt off my barstool and take your butt out of my bar. You are also blackballed from my bar. There are plenty of other establishments in the neighborhood so you can take your business there. Trust me, if you give me any kind of hassle about this I will be calling the police and I am positive you will probably then smart off to some cop, which will land your sorry ass in jail. So if I were you, I would leave right now."
Charlie arrogantly jerked his body and slid off the barstool and strolled quietly out of the tavern. The bar owner then walked back over to Beef and Randy. The bartender called over to them, "You'll have to excuse Charlie, he just lost a great love."
"Lost a love?" Beef asked of the owner, "His lover?"
The bar owner laughed, "A lover? Oh, right…that would be a laugh. Charlie's only love is himself. He's pretty outspoken about avoiding relationships. A long-term relationship to him is a night in a bathhouse. The great love he just lost…? His cigarettes. Charlie's always been a heavy chain smoker. He just got out of the hospital a few weeks ago, his smoking totally screwed up his lungs and the doctors told him he had to give up smoking his cigarettes…ha! His one true love."
Beef, Randy and the owner then had their meeting. The bar owner was very pleased with the meeting and more than thankful that Matson had agreed to break away from his day to meet with him. The bar owner insisted that the detective accept a gift box of brandy cordials just for making the visit. The bartender tried to comfort Randy as he and Beef left the bar. "Forget about that jerk. That's what happens when smoke from burning leaves becomes more important to somebody than people…that person turns into an idiot." On leaving the bar, it did not take very much of the detective's observational abilities to notice that the experience with the malicious bar patron had left his assistant much embarrassed and hurt.

*********

Gloria and her compatriots were combining a simple breakfast along with Gloria's team briefing. Gloria had allowed for a breakfast of fruit, bagels and some tea and coffee. She would allow the other two women to munch a bit on their food before she would get into her morning address to them. However, she did first want to reveal a new bit of information about the two rooms they were being permitted to use in a church office building. The two offices they were using were on the ground floor and a bit removed from the rest of the building proper, therefore their office suite was rather secluded and the entire building was practically deserted on the weekends. What Gloria had discovered was that a metal door in the outer office, instead being a closet, actually led down to a fallout shelter directly below them. The fallout shelter was probably built in the 1950s and she found it was now just an empty room and being used for nothing and Gloria was ecstatic about this discovery, they now had three rooms instead of two. Of course the room was a empty basement room with no windows and no ventilation except for a vent on the floor in her office…Gloria tapped on a vent near her desk with her foot…they could use the extra space as secure storage while they were using the office space. Much more secure than leaving things in the hotel rooms they had and since no one else hardly ventured down to this part of the building, very private and secure and there was no way to get into the room except the big metal door. Gloria became quiet again and the three woman quietly nibbled on their breakfast. Gloria sat back in the chair behind her desk. Everything seemed to be going so well.

GLORIA

Gloria felt that her life must certainly be blessed, that God must have meant for her to have this success and position of authority. Actually, any blessing from God had far less to do with Gloria's success than her own ambition and her talent in cloaking that ambition as religious fervor. Gloria so successfully identified herself with religious evangelism and church ideals that she would identify anyone opposing her personal ambition as being an obstacle to the goals of the church. Why, anyone who opposed a true servant of the Lord must be opposed the Lord himself. As Gloria grew older and her influence in her church grew, the other church members grew to understand the importance of staying out of the way of Gloria's ambitious juggernaut lest they have their conviction to their faith questioned.
Gloria herself knew the difference between her faith and ambition, in fact she was very much aware of the difference. She simply viewed everything else as less important than her personal ambition and felt no guilt whatsoever in using her faith or other people to get what she wanted.

Gloria

Marriages in Gloria's church tended to be somewhat arranged and in Gloria's case, she knew that if she were to acquire more authority, her husband would need to be someone who had stature in the church. And so it was with her first husband, her second and then her current, third husband. Though Gloria was a very vocal supporter of the sanctity of marriage and the family values, she did not apply those standards to her personal life in the same way she demanded those values to be applied to everyone else. When a marriage had outlived its usefulness and began to limit her personal ambition, she began to work at ending it and skillfully portrayed herself as a victim, if not of her husband, than of circumstances.

The second divorce resulted in some ruffled feathers among the church flock, but it was merely an issue of switching to a different congregation and Gloria's influence in her church continued to grow. Her reputation and influence had grown during her third marriage to the point where she no longer needed a church elder as a husband to help her career and ironically this fact helped make the third marriage the longest simply because Gloria was no longer looking for another, more important man for a career assist. However, while Gloria was very successful in career ambitions, her skill with personal relationships was not as good. Cracks were beginning to form in the foundation of her current marriage, and the one person who kept her family together, a son who Gloria had a closer relationship with than her husband and who she tried to keep very tight control over, had left home for college and was now showing some very troubling signs of independence.

While Gloria attempted to deceive others regarding her ambition, there was no self-deception. Gloria regarded the faith she had grown up with as just a tool, like everything and everyone else, to get what she wanted. She had much satisfaction over how much she could get away with and how deceptive she could be. She also gained much satisfaction in dealing with, and punishing those who had been an obstacle in the path of her personal blitzkrieg. Her method had been simple and successful, aggressively pursue what she wanted and then if anyone questioned her motives or goals, Gloria would run behind the robes of Jesus and play the role of innocent while thinking up ways of discrediting and ruining her critics. Secretly, Gloria viewed herself as some predatory sea creature using the shell of a more docile animal to disguise herself while she stalked and then attacked her prey.

If Gloria did have one peccadillo, it was her interest in men. Gloria was not very interested in the company of other women; she found them to be boring and irritating. However, she very much pursued men, especially the younger and milder mannered male members of the church, men who reminded her somewhat of her own son. Gloria, found nothing wrong with this pursuit; she explained it as her need to evangelize and mother these men…all in the context of the church, and she was a very strong believer in the sanctity of marriage, fidelity and so on. Sometimes though, Gloria would forget about spiritual issues and want some young man to address her very personal issues of desire and at these times, Gloria's more aggressive nature would come through and she would attempt to coerce a young man into a relationship. Sometimes these attempts involved threats or intimidation of how Gloria could make life difficult for the young man unless he was more receptive or how Gloria could even accuse the young man of an indiscretion, and being a woman, everyone would believe her and not him. None of these attempts on Gloria's part were fruitful, they just resulted in whispers among church members that young men should keep their distance from Gloria and Gloria's efforts to conduct religious discussions for young male church members were quietly discouraged by the church.

In spite of the what some church members considered minor eccentricities, Gloria's outspoken conservative religious views plus her hardnosed ways of getting things done and dealing with people got her referred to some conservative business owners who wanted to 'reengineer' their employees. Simply put, the business owners wanted to get rid of undesirable employees such as those who might be members of minority groups, too liberal or pro-union, higher paid older employees, homosexuals and so on and replace them with a much younger, cheaper and conservative group of employees. Gloria produced great results in this effort and she made her rounds of several companies and thoroughly enjoyed her work. The process was simple, Gloria would be introduced to the employees as a coordinator with no connection to management (though she was actually working closely with the personnel department), and it would soon be apparent be apparent to the other employees that going against any of Gloria's wishes would result in being written up for insubordination. Employees also found disagreeing with Gloria's conservative views on politics, religion and civil rights would have the same result. And the company of course would distant itself from Gloria, that she was merely another employee with her own viewpoint, yet it was clear that Gloria had more authority than just another employee. Gloria would also ingratiate with women employees, that she was their friend and champion. Gloria was very successful with this tactic. Often she would encourage an outspoken woman employee to stand her ground and aggressively demand satisfaction from the company. Then after the woman would leave her office, Gloria would get on the phone to the proper authorities know that the woman was about to make a stand and the microphones and witnesses should be on the ready. Shortly after her meeting with Gloria, the woman employee would be terminated, never suspecting Gloria had any part in it and even thinking of Gloria as a confidant afterward.

The process of eliminating homosexual employees was similar. Gloria would innocently inquire as to who were the gay employees in a feigned show of concern and diversity. Then she would inquire about how involved these employees were with gay issues. After that, harassment would be directed towards the gay employees and some would be terminated for being confrontational, or others might be terminated for using employee email to contact gay organizations. On lesbian was terminated for using company email for political purposes after she innocently told Gloria that she was on the email list of a gay organization. Gloria would take a special interest in the younger, attractive gay male employees to the point of shamelessly stalking the stalking the poor men and even feeling she had the right to grab a feel now and then. The men would complain to personnel and were not given any satisfaction or even allowed to file a complaint regarding Gloria's behavior. They were simply told that Gloria was only displaying her motherly instincts. The company even suggested that the men identify themselves as bisexual and learn to suppress their homosexual side. The gay men later either quit or were terminated.

A problem began to occur when Gloria's sexually predatory tendencies began to surface at one company where there weren't any gay men for her to prey upon. Instead, on she focused on her preferred prey of young, mild mannered Christian men. While the company would allow to stalk gay men, this type of behavior could obviously not be allowed towards straight, Christian men, particularly when one of the young men had made an audio tape of Gloria's advances. So Gloria was quietly relieved from her position at the company and quietly put to work at another company.

By the late 1990s, when the Internet bubble was bursting, the conservative companies that had made use of Gloria no longer had use of her talents. Companies were no longer interested in having the right kind of employees, they didn't want to have very many employees at all, so even the white bread, young and low paid employees were being laid off. However, corporate clients had given Gloria many satisfied referrals and she was given an offer of a job in the political arena.

Some right wing interests were very interested in setting up an organization, which would target the gay community, its organizations, businesses and individuals with the intention of devastating the gay community and rendering it politically inert. One part of this organization would be dedicated to tracking the gay presence on the Internet and attempting to disrupt it by using such tools as viruses, worms and denial of service attacks and through ordinary means such as finding and identifying gay sites and groups on the web and filing a lot of complaints about them. This tactic was used very effectively against gay merchants on eBay and against gay groups on Yahoo and MSN.
The second part of the anti-gay organization was directed against anything that wasn't on the Internet, usually against well-known figures in the gay community with the intent to cause as much scandal and embarrassment as possible. The organization acted as a clearing house for assembling information regarding gay people and decided who to direct a campaign against and in what way to wage it, be it dirty tricks, lawsuits, spreading misinformation, rumors or whatever. This was the part of the organization that Gloria became associated with and utilized her talents as 'coordinator'. Gloria truly embraced this new job not only for the travel and authority it involved but also for the thrill it gave the predatory part of her nature.

Gloria brushed a crumb from her lower lip and addressed her teammates. She gave them a brief report on how well she thought their efforts were going so far along and handed out some assignments. Gloria even allowed for some feedback from her compatriots. The other two women were concerned about having Bessie work with them, even if it were only to gather information from the lawyer Berry Starr. Bessie has a reputation of being a bit aggressive in terms of stalking women. Gloria reassured the other two women that she could keep Bessie under control plus the information she could provide them on Randy Hardwicke's legal team and the detective Beef Matson, would be invaluable. Gloria smiled a regal smile. "Bessie's previous handler made some mistakes. We won't repeat those mistakes." Gloria smiled again, crinkling her face. "Bessie is a woman with stunted emotional growth, she never past beyond the stage of needing mothering. As long as she gets her fix of mothering, she will be willing to spy on her friends and anything else we need her to do as long as we give her a little mothering. But that's all she will get from us." Gloria encouraged her team members to look upon Bessie with sympathy, after all, what man would want Bessie, perhaps if the woman lost some weight and dressed less masculine, she could be refocused on men. Then Gloria pulled out a folder from one of her desk drawers. The folder was marked with Bessie's name. Out of the folder Gloria pulled a sheet of paper. It was a poem titled 'Republican Woman' and it had been written and signed by Bessie for the woman she had once surprised in the shower. The poem spoke of Bessie's affection for the woman and her undying loyalty to her and her conservative principles. The other two women in Gloria's team read the poem. "This is disgusting," said one of the women, "Plus it's really horrible poetry."
"Of course it's horrible," replied Gloria, "but it's valuable just the same. If this little horrible piece of poetry were to be distributed…why dear Bessie's lap licking lady friends would disown her when they discover how tight she is with us and it would also identify Bessie as a sexual predator. So with this valuable piece of blackmail in my possession, I think it will be a simple matter to keep Bessie under control."

Gloria then reminded her coworkers that in their work against the homosexuals they would sometimes have to partner with people that might not have the same standards they had. She revealed how a man involved with their organization who was also connected with the military, a man she would only refer to as 'the general', had referred a woman to Gloria. This woman had many connections with various women’s groups and was willing to help Gloria in her harassment campaign against Randy Hardwicke and Beef Matson. Gloria related how the woman shared her views about gay men, that gay men should be forced to take wives and go straight. The woman related how this had been done in Sparta, in ancient Greece. Then the woman began to voice some strange opinions. How the customs of ancient Sparta should be applied to modern culture, particularly towards girls. How girls in ancient times exercised until they looked just like boys, how they exercised so much that sometime girls breasts failed to develop, how young girls would be forced to have sex with each other to turn men so that they would keep from going gay. Then the woman told Gloria how women in ancient Sparta would take young girls as lovers while being married to a man. Gloria told how she just nodded let the woman prattle on with her views. The woman did dislike homosexuals immensely but she seemed to have a disturbing desire to remold girls until they were just boys who were able to have children. Then the woman began to describe a species of monkey in which all individuals were constantly having sex with each other regardless of age, gender, or if it was a close family member. The other two women gave Gloria their expressions of displeasure. "People are not monkeys…does she actually encourage sex among family members…?" said one woman. "The general's lady friend seems to have one or two screws loose," said the other. Gloria made a motion with her hand to quiet the other two ladies. "Of course, this woman's a bit off. It's obvious she is attempting to hide her interest in young girls though these vague notions of sexuality. You know, if everybody's having sex with everybody else, no one will notice that she is molesting young girls. Now of course we cannot afford to alienate the general, with the amount of resources he is directing to our group…that would be foolish. Like the general says, the military keeps an eye on the homosexuals almost as much as they do terrorists…if the homosexuals knew how much the military security is keeping an eye on them, the homosexual community would just give up. So we don't want to do anything to disturb that. But at the same time we do not have to embrace this woman's silly views. She apparently wants to turn the country into a military boot camp and we'd all end up doing calisthenics every morning. Like Bessie, we will let her help us and then, when we are finished with this project, we will let the information we gather on this woman get passed on to the proper authorities. The general's lady friend has already told me how involved she is with a number of young girl's groups…and I can imagine what mischief she may be causing. So I have already passed her name on to the proper groups so she can be properly observed."

Finally, Gloria revealed that a man they knew Larry, would be working with them again as an operative, doing surveillance and helping to arrange dirty tricks. Gloria related that Larry's help would be very appreciated. "That is," she added sarcastically, "If he doesn't fall off the wagon." Gloria then ended the meeting by leading the women in a short prayer.

LARRY

Larry Doolan's involvement with the anti-homosexual group came after a couple decades of personal decline. Larry's teenaged hard drinking along with his fighting and vandalism was regarded by his parents as manly; they didn't want to have a sissy as a son. Larry's drinking became worse during his military service, though it was hardly noticed. After his term of service was up, it appeared that Larry would have a promising career in electronics and got a job at a research lab. He married and had a couple of kids. Then Larry began to add hard drugs to his personal list of abused substances. He had experimented in high school and in the military, now he began to use in earnest, primarily cocaine. In the years following, Larry lost jobs easily and had a hard time finding new ones. His friendships began to suffer; he stole from his friends, his elderly parents, his wife and his two children. Though he had chosen a long-suffering and devoted wife, his marriage began to strain and warp from the stress of his addictions. His wife became the primary source of income for their relationship and then there were the separations, and finally a divorce. Without his wife and having alienated his family, Larry's life plummeted to the very bottom. He was able to get enough money through temporary and day labor for the drugs, though sometimes he would steal and then get into trouble with the police. How high he would feel when he got stoned, and how belligerent and aggressive he would become and he would get into still more trouble with the police.

Finally, a judge gave him an ultimatum, get clean and stay clean for a very long period of time or face a serious jail term. So Larry got involved with a faith-based recovery program. The people involved with the program seem to be just as interested in Larry converting to their church as getting him off drugs, so Larry became involved with their church, if only because it added structure to his life. By that time Larry's life was such a soupy mess, it was very easy to let others make decisions for him. It was very strongly suggested that if Larry wanted the church's continuing assistance, he should become involved with and marry an older woman member of the church and he did. Though Larry was only in his forties, the years of substance abuse had left a physical mark, with graying hair and a lined, gaunt look to his face, so he looked older. Still, it was obvious to others that his wife was much older than he. This really didn't matter to Larry. His wife merely wanted a husband for show so theirs was a platonic relationship; in Larry's mind he referred to his wife as 'mother' or 'granma'. Plus if he maintained the relationship and stayed clean from drugs and booze the church would guarantee him employment.

And so it was that Larry became involved with the right wing anti-gay organization. This was an easy fit for Larry. Like his parents, Larry had a strong dislike for certain ethnic groups and homosexuals. When Larry was high, he felt even more studly and masculine then he knew he already was. However, as his life began to slide due to his drug use, those periods of feeling like he was the studly king of the world would be followed by long periods of being confined with the very ethnic groups he disliked. Suddenly he was locked in a room with drunks and dope heads of different ethnic groups; suddenly he was faced with the reality he was on the very same level as everyone else. During the later years of his addiction he would sometimes go to gay clubs to try and pick up on some drugs. Though Larry never got into prostitution, he thought his masculine looks would somehow encourage the gay guys to give him drugs or lead him to some cheap deals. Usually Larry ended up being thrown out of gay clubs and there were stinging memories of times when he would be sitting on the sidewalk outside a gay club, messed up and having the gay men he despised so, make disparaging comments about him as they passed by.

So Larry's hatred of homosexuals, and the church's and the organization's hatred of homosexuals made for a very good fit indeed. The only minor problem was with the new coordinator Gloria. When Larry first met Gloria, she deliberately rubbed her thigh against his. When Larry did not respond at all, Gloria decided she did not like Larry. Larry did not consider this a big loss since he decided that Gloria had the face of a horse. He did, however, find Gloria's teammates attractive and they also liked to rub against him.

The organization made use of Larry's knowledge of electronic devices and put him to work on their dirty tricks squad, which had him snooping on individuals and occasionally doing something, which would cause some disruption. For instance, one assignment had Larry releasing a cage of mice into the office of a liberal political candidate. Then Gloria, feigning concern, called a woman she knew in the candidate’s office just to 'see how things were going'. The woman reported to Gloria that the office had become overrun with mice and everyone was coming down with some respiratory ailment, probably brought in by the mice. Gloria, in an effort to sow the seeds of discontent would then express her further concern that the liberal candidate simply did not care about his workers enough to provide a healthy work environment. Even though Gloria and Larry were not fond of each other, they still could work well in tandem.

Whether it was the years of substance abuse or just an intrinsic part of his personality, Larry Doolan had a dark side. A very dark side. Larry had developed a very strong, unreasoning hatred of gay men. The church he belonged to and the organization he worked for openly encouraged hatred of homosexuals and were glib about it, embracing the hatred as if it were something exhilarating. So however Larry felt about gay men, his feelings were bolstered. Often, the organization had Larry observing gay clubs or keeping an eye on individuals at gay clubs. Gradually, Larry began to develop a resentment, first that he even had to keep an eye on people he considered beneath him, and then secondly, some envy began to creep in. How the gay men always seemed to be happy when they partied at the clubs, how they were associating and apparently sleeping with whoever they wanted to, and how the men at the clubs seemed to have a lot of money for drinks, nice clothes and for the nice cars they drove. He also knew some of the gay men were using drugs.

If he, Larry Doolan, had the money, the looks, the cars that these men had…he wouldn't be wasting it on other men. He would nail every woman he could, no woman would be safe…and he wouldn't be stuck with a woman who looked like she could be his mother. And the drinking and the drugs…these guys didn't know nothing about partying. If he just had the money these guys had, he would know how to use it…but Larry couldn't. Otherwise his job and everything…would be gone.

Often Larry's assignments would take him out of town and require that he work alone. On one such assignment, away from his home, Larry found he was not completely alone; the nagging companions of temptation and craving were with him. Again, the anger welled up inside him. If he had the looks, the body, the money that some of the fags had…
Much later that night, Larry found a small, neighborhood gay bar. He parked his rental car about a block away and walked to the alley behind the bar. He found a concrete block in the alley and some wood boards. There were some cars in the parking lot next to the bar but the neighborhood was quiet and deserted. Larry put a large wooden two by four he had found in the alley on the ground near the bar's entrance. He then grabbed a concrete block and waited in the shadows holding the block. He was patient. Finally, a young man came out of the bar alone. The young man was fairly good looking, his hair neatly coifed and he wore a nice looking leather jacket. The young man paused for a second, watching his breath make bright white clouds in the cold just after midnight air. Then the young man began to hum some song and turned to walk to his car, his back towards Larry.

Larry, quietly and quickly, walked up behind the young man with the concrete block and slammed it into the young man's upper back. The man fell forward onto the pavement with just breath, no sound, escaping from his mouth. The young man muttered a very quiet, "Oh," and attempted to turn himself over. Larry very quickly discarded the concrete block and retrieved the two by four. He returned to the young man and struck him with the board, again and again in the face. The blows were hard and sharp and the young man offered no resistance. Still Larry continued, the only changing his strikes to hit the young man's torso as well as his head. The entire incident was relatively silent and the neighborhood was unaware of it. Larry turned back to the alley and quickly left, throwing the board over a fence and returning to his rental car.

About twenty minutes later when another patron left the bar, the young man was discovered and then rushed to a hospital. Along with numerous broken ribs, a punctured lung and a fractured skull, the young man's face was pulverized. The young man would require much reconstructive surgery and he would never fully recover.

Larry would find other gay men, mostly young, outside other gay bars, in other cities where he happened to be on assignment. His attacks, both in operation and violence would be nearly the same. Yet no one had any clue that the very random attacks in different cities around the country were connected or perpetrated by the same assailant. As he had destroyed a large part of his own life, Larry was now destroying other lives, one at a time.

*********
"…you can be such a bitch sometimes!"

Berry and Bobbi were in the kitchen of their home in the early evening, the blue glow of dusk visible through the sliding glass doors, which led to a patio beyond. Their kitchen had a cozy country feel to it with rough cedar paneling and deep blue and green patterned curtains on the windows. Lights over the sink and the stove cast warm shadows through the room. Bobbi was tending to several pots on the stove like some ancient alchemist. Two kettles of simmering fruit preserves gave the air a sweet, spicy scent and a pot of chili lent the air it's own heavy, salty perfume. After a couple attempts to sample the preserves, and being chased away by Bobbi, Berry sat at the kitchen table with the day's mail which included a couple of anonymous hate letters which condemned her for representing Randy Hardwicke as well as for being a lesbian.

Bobbi and Berry

One of their cats, Mr. Jingles shared a shelf with some large knick-knacks and lay there observing Berry's activities from his vantage point near the ceiling. Bobbi began to make thin slices from a couple of celery stalks and place them into the steaming chili.
"Coffee's done," announced Bobbi.
Fetching a coffee mug from a kitchen cabinet and pouring some cream into it, Berry made a suggestion, "How 'bout a little bowl of that wonderful chili?"
"The chili's for the card party tonight, dear…why don't you have a pear, or maybe a bagel and some cream cheese?", responded Bobbi.

"Hmmm…uh, no," was Berry's disappointed reply as she sat down again at the kitchen table and began to go through the mail. "Where'd you get all the fruit for the preserves?", inquired Berry.
"From Mrs. Yamamoto, down the street," answered Bobbi. "Her son has a truck farm and he gave her boxes of strawberries that she could never use all by herself. So she came over and asked me if I would like to have some flats of strawberries…though she made me promise to make a couple of jars of preserves for her and her husband. Fair deal, I thought and then I would have even more fruit for the jelly jars we give out for Christmas. I'm also using the currents from our back yard to make current jelly."
"How can you make jelly from those sour things?", asked Berry.
"With sugar, silly…" replied Bobbi, "Currents make an excellent tart flavored jelly."
"Still, I don't see how anybody would want to eat those things."
"Mrs. Yamamoto told me that when she was a little girl, her family sold fruit at a roadside stand and lots of people would stop to buy little baskets of currents, red and golden. People would put them on cereal."
Berry looked up at Bobbi with an arched eyebrow and muttered, "More power to them…", and continued to shuffle through the mail.
Berry and Bobbi's other cat, the Lady Astrid, quietly made her way up to the shelf to join Mr. Jingles. She paused on the shelf momentarily, sitting upright, then began to spread herself over the shelf and pushing against Mr. Jingles. Suddenly Astrid began pawing at Jingles's behind and the other cat suddenly found the front part of his body over thin air. Flaying his front legs in the air, Mr. Jingles decided to save himself by doing an unceremonious leap. The dark colored cat leaped down onto a kitchen chair hitting the back of the chair which then slammed against the wall. Mr. Jingles then fell into the seat of the chair and the chair's legs banged down against the floor. Jingles scampered onto the floor and sat down next to Bobbi. Berry and Bobbi turned to the direction of the commotion.
"The kids are at it again," Bobbi commented.
Berry looked up at the cream colored Astrid, now sitting upright and looking around innocently as if nothing had happened.
"She just did that just to get Jingles off the shelf. Watch…I bet she won't stay there now that she's knocked him off."
"The Lady Astrid was just doing a gravity test with Mr. Jingles. Wasn't she, Mr. Jingles," Bobbi smiled down at the cat. "The Lady Astrid pushes Mr. Jingles off the shelf and down goes Mr. Jingles…yes, everything's o.k. gravity is still working."
"Like Astrid likes to test gravity with the books in my office," observed Berry.
The Lady Astrid paused for a few seconds longer and then lost interest in the shelf. She scampered down daintily and sat in the middle of the kitchen floor.
"See…see! announced Berry, "I knew she wouldn't stay there. She just wanted to knock Mr. Jingles off the shelf. Honestly Astrid, you can be such a bitch sometimes!"
Astrid lingered, ignoring Berry's comments and flickering her tail in the air. Then confident that she had made her royal presence known in the kitchen, the Lady Astrid strolled off to the living room, brushing against Mr. Jingles on her way out. Astrid would go to her favorite napping chair and rest, saving her energy for her middle of the night game of chase the imaginary mouse.

Calm returned to the kitchen with Bobbi tending to her kettles, Berry once again going through the mail and Mr. Jingles silently returning to his former position on the shelf. Bobbi resumed the couple's casual conversation.
"Bessie called today…she wanted come over and visit with us," reported Bobbi. Berry put a letter back on the table and looked over to Bobbi.
"You told her no…right?” queried Berry.
"Of course," reassured Bobbi.
"That woman called at the office a couple of times today…” related Berry "She's determined to pay us a social visit."
"So she can pump us for information about the Randy case?” asked Bobbi.
"What other reason could there be? answered Berry, "She'll lose interest in us as soon this business with Randy is over. Unless of course, I get involved with some other case her sweet right wing lady friends are interested in. Then Bessie will decide she needs to visit with us and ask all kinds of little questions about the case I am working on."
"How did you come to meet Bessie?" asked Bobbi.
"I know Bessie from way back, when I first came out…the granola days," recalled Berry. "You know, back in the days of earth shoes, sandals, flowing dresses, incense and long hair."
"And flowers in your hair…?"
"Hmmm…sometimes. There were a group of women I used to hang out with when I first came out. There were some women I knew from some groups I belonged to and some women I met from a bar I used to be a regular at. I don't remember exactly how, but Bessie drifted in somewhere along the line and used to hang out with us. Since then, gosh…some women moved to other parts of the country, everybody else is around the Bay area somewhere, I think you know most of them. Of course, there's Bessie and one woman in our group died."
"Died…?", asked Bobbi, "Who was she?"
"Ohh…", recalling Berry, "She was a heavy set woman. Back then some women regarded being overweight as a political statement…that by purposely disregarding the popular image of what a woman should look like, for instance, being kind of on the heavyset side, was liberating and…political."
"Obesity is a medical problem, not a political statement," commented Bobbi.
"Gosh, that's funny… I can't think of her name now…" continued Berry. "I think it was Sherry or something like that. Anyway, you're right. Her weight had nothing to do with a political statement. She just continued to put on more weight. She lived in a third floor walk up apartment and it was such a struggle for her to climb the stairs to her place that a group of us found her a first floor apartment and moved her in there. Still, she continued to gain weight like crazy, to the point she couldn't work anymore and went on disability."
"Becoming disabled because of your weight is not a political statement," added Bobbi.
"Anyway, Sherry…I think that was her name…even had a couple of minor heart attacks but she refused to take her problem seriously and continued to put on weight. And she began to become more demanding of everyone around her, wanting us to get things for her, regardless of our own obligations. Like Sherry called one of our group up and wanted her to run to the store for her to get some cookies and cigarettes…instead of going to pick her kids up from school. She was really insistent about it…forget about your kids, I want my cookies and cigarettes."
"Some people become morbidly obese out of narcissism and a desire to manipulate others," lectured Bobbi. "They feel they have the right to do anything they want, regardless of the consequences…like a chronic reckless driver. If something bad does happen because of their actions, they feel other people have an obligation to fix things for them. Making yourself disabled through obesity may be a way to manipulate others. The truly narcissist and manipulative person would get a rush just from getting someone to ignore their own more important issues to deal with the person's minor issues, like this woman wanting one of her friends to forget about her children and get her cookies and cigarettes instead."
"Sherry would call me a couple or more times a week just to complain about her aches and pains…" Berry continued, “Gosh…especially her legs and feet. I would try to tell her that what her body was telling her is that she should get herself to a doctor and find a way to get rid of some weight. Some of our little group even talked with her parents…and they told us how much they tried to get Sherry to get serious about losing weight, but had no luck. Whenever our group of friends would talk to Sherry about her weight issues, she would accuse us of accepting some male agenda of what a woman should look like. She thought that if she could just get some medicine and pain pills from a doctor, her weight shouldn't be a problem. The last time I saw her, she could barely get out of a chair, she had sores on her legs and you could see dark outlines of veins all over her legs. Her legs had even bowed out so she was just about walking on her ankles. She ended up being rushed to the hospital by rescue squad sometime after that. I think she was in the hospital for about a week and she passed away. I think her kidneys and liver failed. I guess she was only about 38."
"Very sad…but you did all you could do," commented Bobbi. "Now getting back to Bessie," continued Bobbi as she fussed with her pots of preserves, "When did she start to waltz with the religious right wing?"
"Oh…" said Berry, "Well, I guess she was always waltzing with the right wing. Back in the good old days when I was so much younger…"
"Please, you're no doddering grandma."
"Anyway, when I was younger…and had just come out, our group of friends including Bessie, used to go to whatever gay festivals there were. It was so unbelievably nice to go out with a group of women who weren't guy crazy and constantly pointing out just about every man and going, 'Omigawd, look at that guy, look at that guy!'" Berry made exaggerated gestures with her hands. "It was so wonderful to be able to, just for once, point out a woman to one of my friends and say 'Isn't she beautiful?"
"I must have been walking by," smiled Bobbi as she ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head.
Berry smiled back. "Thinking back, I guess I should have noticed that Bessie had issues about being gay, not for herself but with other people. The first time she came along to a gay festival it was like she had an issue with the pride aspect of the event, like everybody being happy about being gay made her uneasy. Same sex couples holding hands in public did not go down with her very well either. Then the first time she saw some guys dressed in leather…that really blew her mind. She didn't like that at all…very angry. Then another time she saw a woman dressed in leather…ooh, I thought she was going to pop a cork. Then there were other occasions, I don't remember exactly when or where, but she problems with dykes on bikes, she didn't care for women dressing in leather and riding motorcycles. Then she had a problem with lipstick lesbians, she felt that if a lesbian wanted to dress up in a nice dress and use makeup, a she should make every effort to go straight."
"Were there any gay people she did like?" asked Bobbi.
"Good question…I got the impression that what Bessie thought was a good lesbian was a woman who would dress sort of butch or country, keep very quiet about her sexuality and stay out of sight. Plus I seemed to get the impression that she felt that only a very small number of woman should be allowed to be a lesbian."
"Doesn't she have a lover…?"
"There is a woman who lives with her that she refers to as her 'friend'. Bessie would occasionally bring her along to our outings years ago. A little mousy woman that never really talked much, but then again, Bessie liked to do all the talking."
"None of her behavior ever made you suspicious that she was chummy with the right wing?"
"Well, lots of people take a long time to deal with their issues of self-hatred and guilt when they go through the process of coming out. I thought that was the case with Bessie, but gradually I did start thinking something was not right."
"Okay, how so?"
"Bessie had been hanging out with our group for years, so I would think that's ample time to get your stuff together. We took Bessie along to a gay country dance…in fact, I think it was about a year before the two of us met…well, people two-step and slow dance at a country dance. Well, I thought slow dancing was a marvelous concept, especially when it involved two women and everybody in our group was really getting into it and dancing…except for Bessie. It was a thing like she just sat at our table and she was getting really, really pissed. We finally found out that she didn't like the idea of two women slow dancing…that if we wanted to slow dance, we should do it with a man."
"Talk about being a wet blanket."
"Tell me about it…Bessie did develop an incredible talent to be offended by just about everything…it was like trying to party with a grade school hall monitor. She didn't like gay men at all…so when Bessie tagged along with our group, we couldn't go to any place there might be a lot of gay men at or Bessie would be kind of grumpy. Actually, there were lesbians at the time who thought it was fashionable to hate gay men…they felt that it made them more butch and studly to say they hated fags…so I thought Bessie wasn't acting any different from some other dykes. Bessie really got into hating gay men; you know…that gay men deserved AIDS and the whole nine yards. She got into hating gay men way too much…I thought like why…what's the point…they're homosexual, we're homosexual. Then one day she calls me up and wants to enlist me in trying to cause problems for some gay guy. Some church lady Bessie knew was trying to convert the guy to some fundamentalist church and the guy didn't want to. So Bessie was trying to drum up support among lesbians to punish him by making all kinds of trouble for this poor guy. I thought then…why would she even think I would want to do this…why should she want to do this…especially for some right wing fundamentalist?"
"I guess we finally knew about her when we found out she was passing on information about your cases to the other side," commented Bobbi.
"Yes, we finally found out…" confirmed Berry, "You know, your chili doesn't smell right."
"What…?" replied Bobbi indignantly.
“You might want to give me a bowl of it so I could tell you if it's alright."
"Oh, is that it…" smirked Bobbi, "You'll get a bowl during the card party."
Then the lawyer began to relate anecdotes of her bad experiences during the days she worked as a contract worker. Grumpily she continued relating how she had been mistreated during those years, working long hours and being more productive than the permanent workers only to have her contract ended immediately once the company found out she was gay. Other women workers who were demanding Berry should find herself a boyfriend, still other women who would treat her as second class once they found out that she was a lesbian and still others would seemed to think lesbians should be regarded as slaves to straight women. And yet other straight women who felt Berry should somehow find them a gay boyfriend since they thought having a gay boyfriend would be the most ideal thing of all. Bobbi kept tending to her pots and making short comments to her partner. Finally Bobbi had enough. Berry was still rattling on, looking down at the last letter in the pile on the table, a bill. Bobbi placed a steaming and aromatic bowl of her chili in front of Berry. It was on a plate lined with crackers and Bobbi placed a dollop of sour cream on top of the mahogany colored brew. Berry stopped chatting.
"Oh, bless your heart, sweetums," said Berry and gave Bobbi a short tender kiss.
"By the way," added Bobbi, "I went shopping today and picked up a pair of pajamas for our Christmas party."
"What do they look like?"
"Silly, but still sexy…I'll give you a show later."
Berry smiled up at Bobbi and sampled the soup. "I lied about the chili…it smells incredible and I think this is the best yet. Oh…I will give these two charming hate letters to our detective friend Mr. Matson. Let me know if we get any more. Beef also said to keep a lookout for anyone snooping around our house. Bobbi walked behind Berry and put her arms around her and nuzzled the back of her head.
obscured. The man put the binoculars; a camera and a note pad into vinyl case beside him and drove away.

Chapter Six - Someone To Watch Over Me

"If there's a will missing and it's your dead rich Uncle Fred's, don't look for it yourself, call me instead."

Beef Matson was making a point in taking an active role in his employee's emotional health. It was obvious that Randy Hardwicke must be under a lot of pressure due to the accusations made against him, getting an eviction notice right at the start of the Christmas season along with the hate mail and the bits of harassment that Randy had encountered. Beef was convinced that all these things were connected. So when Randy appeared to be more introspective than usual, the detective decided to provide some stimulation for his assistant. He sent Randy down to the Just Desserts bakery to buy a box of donuts and then offer the donuts to the other businesses in the building as a morning treat, as a good will gesture from Beef Matson Private Investigations. Randy gave Beef a kind of awkward look but complied. Beef thought it would be good to get Randy out of the office and that the stimulation of talking with the other tenants in the building would snap him out of his funk.

When Randy returned, he could Beef shuffling around in his office, moving boxes. He called and asked if his boss needed any help. Beef replied in a simple negative. After hearing more noise for a few minutes more, Randy became more curious and stood in the doorway of Beef's office.
"Mr. Matson," he asked, "You need any help?"
Beef looked up and slid a box towards the doorway.
"Mr. Matson is my father…I answer to Beef. Okay, now I need your help. We're going to decorate the office."
"Decorate the office…for what?"
"For Christmas!"
"Christmas…?"
"Christmas. It's a big holiday this time of year, people decorate evergreen trees, string lights, and it’ll be all over T.V. and the newspapers. You'll even hear songs about it on the radio. Trust me, you'll really like it."
Randy pursed his lips. "I mean why should we decorate the office…who comes up here anyway?"
"My clients come up here," answered Beef, "And we're up here, we'll decorate it for ourselves…you know, to get into the spirit."
"Well…I don't know if I really feel like having decorations…"
"You're the one who always gets the decorations out every year," countered Beef.
"Maybe I was being stupid…" said Randy quietly.
Matson bit his lower lip and frowned slightly. "Well, I want the office decorated." Beef looked at Randy briefly and then walked over to him. "Look at it this way." He pointed his finger at Randy. "Employee." The detective then pointed his finger at himself. "Boss." He then pointed his finger back at Randy. "Employee." Then his finger back at himself. "Boss." Beef Matson then repeated the lesson. "Employee, boss, employee, boss." Randy began to smile a bit.
"See…boss wants to decorate office…so office gets decorated."
Randy relented and dragged the box of decorations into the outer office and began to unpack it while his boss went to get a small stepladder from his office. The phone rang and Randy answered it. It was the lawyer, Berry Starr. Berry wanted to talk to Beef Matson but first she wanted to make sure everything was alright with Randy. She wanted him to get out of his apartment as soon as possible into someplace that was much more secure. She was also very concerned that he watch out for himself, that he should always be mindful of his personal security. Randy was somewhat puzzled by Berry's sudden preoccupation with his safety while he put her on hold and alerted his boss to the call.
"It's Berry," he told Beef, "She seems to be a little agitated about something…and she's giving me a mother hen routine about my personal safety. I think something's up." Beef picked up on his extension.
"Beef Matson Private Investigations," he answered, "If there's a will missing and it's your dead rich Uncle Fred's, don't look for it yourself, call me instead."
"Yes Beef…" Berry answered dryly, "I guess I need some humor this morning."
"What's going on…?"

"Well…it's like this," started Berry and then she paused, "Astrid, will you please get down…Astrid please…that's mommy's jugular. Just a minute, let me persuade Lady Astrid to move to my lap."
"Your cat's gotten overly affectionate this morning?"
"What happened is…" Berry took a deep breath. "The Lady Astrid apparently had a big fright last night…she's been really spooked all morning and doesn't want to leave my side. Late last night we heard Astrid running around…like she does sometimes, she decides to play some game in the middle of the night. Some cats do that. Jingles will stay with us in our bedroom and usually just sleep. Astrid will come and join us after she's finished doing her thing. Well, very early this morning around 2:30, Bobbi and I heard this low moaning sound that cats make when they are very unhappy with something.

The Lady Astrid gets upset.

Then we heard this really nasty hissing and then some banging and the sound of like something falling. We thought maybe Astrid and Jingles got into some nasty argument, though they never had before. Plus there was Jingles sitting right on the bed with us. Then we thought maybe Astrid got herself caught on something, so we ran to the kitchen, where we thought the sound came from, and there was Astrid just sitting in the kitchen doorway, like she wanted us to see something."

"Well, we turned on all the lights and Astrid took off for our bedroom and that's where she stayed till this morning. We then found that the sliding glass door in the kitchen was open about a couple of feet…and the screen on the outside screen door had been cut along the bottom of the door. We looked outside and found some drops of blood on the patio, just outside the door. What we think happened is that someone tried to break in and Astrid was watching. When they slid open the patio door and were going to crawl in through the slit they cut in bottom of the screen door, Astrid let them have it, clawing the hell out of them. We looked Astrid over carefully, and she's perfectly alright, so the blood outside must have been the intruder's."

Berry told Beef that they had called the police and a couple officers came to the house, looked around and took a report. All Beef could do was to offer Berry some pointers on securing her household. Berry told Beef she had a gut feeling that this incident was connected with the needle in the mailbox and both were connected with her representation of Randy.

*********

Larry Doolan walked back to his rental car from a hospital emergency room. Big fiery red scratches lined the left side of his face and his left eye was nearly swollen shut. He had told the emergency room doctor that he had tried to pet a stray cat and it turned on him. The burning and itching scratches made Larry very angry and he slammed the car door.

*********

The executives of a conservative corporation that were frequent and important contributors to right wing causes had asked a favor of Gloria. Gloria was very much aware of the importance of doing favors and not ruffling any feathers, so she was always open to doing the occasional favor. In this instance, she was asked to put on her payroll a woman that the corporation had terminated. The woman had been employed in the corporation's personnel department and the woman, named Nancy, was being a being somewhat of an irritation and in addition, had knowledge of some things, which might be embarrassing to the company. Gloria was being asked to employ the woman for a while until she could find a permanent job. In this way it was hoped occupying her with some tasks and some temporary income would make the woman less agitated. As extra, Gloria was told that the woman had even met Randy Hardwicke when Beef Matson's assistant had helped a terminated employee move his personal belongings out of an office area this Nancy's company. This alone was reason enough for Gloria to put Nancy on her staff.

However, whatever optimism Gloria may have had about this new team member soon evaporated when their personalities collided. Gloria tended to be both territorial and dictatorial regarding her team and whatever projects it might be working on. Disturbingly, this new woman Nancy, began to learn and pick up on things much too quickly for Gloria's comfort level. The woman was also very efficient and was beginning to organize things and make suggestions to the point where her mere presence was beginning to alarm Gloria and she began to perceive Nancy as a threat to her authority and began to wonder if this woman was after her position. On top of it all, when Gloria would deliver her morning monologue to the team, this woman had the audacity to interrupt and make observations. When Gloria would speak of a "new emerging paradigm", this other woman would began to talk about "multilateral channeled synergies”; Gloria found this woman's one-upmanship infuriating. Gloria then began, skillfully and methodically, to make each day Nancy spent on her team a nightmare. Gloria would assign busy work; work, which really had no purpose other than to keep Nancy involved with some activity while Gloria and her other team member, would conduct the real business of their mission. Then Gloria would mercilessly criticize Nancy's work, hoping devilishly that the woman would quit. But Nancy did not quit and instead began to demand more involvement in their project. Gloria did want this woman off the project but she did allow Nancy to become involved, so Gloria did involve Nancy, much like drowning someone in a bathtub would involve him or her with water. Gloria took Nancy on a field trip into San Francisco, particularly the Castro district, pointing out businesses at random that she wanted Nancy to get information on. It was a very brisk walking trip, up and down streets with the shorter, plumpish Nancy huffing and puffing and struggling to keep up with the stork like legs of Gloria.

*********
"It might just be better if you did off yourself."

Back at Beef Matson's office, the detective was perched on a stepladder, tacking up a string of Christmas lights, which he pulled from a jumbled coil Randy held in his arms. Randy still lacked the enthusiasm for decorating so his boss was taking charge with the detective hoping he could lure his assistant into a holiday spirit and a more positive attitude. There was a knock on the door and two young men, Lars and Jovan, who were acquaintances of Randy, came in. The man had been a fixture in the gay community for years, someone who Beef Matson ignored and his assistant Randy tolerated. Lars was not one of Matson's favorite people. Lars was a self-absorbed subtle sort of bully, who enjoyed pointing out the shortcomings or misfortunes of others while faking concern at the same time. What irritated the detective most was the particular delight Lars found in revealing that some unfortunate soul had AIDS or just found out he had been diagnosed with AIDS. Except that Lars would never use the word, AIDS, he would substitute the word, sick, as if that would somehow sanitize the vicious gossip.

Matson paid only a casual acknowledgement to the arrivals and continued tacking the lights on the doorjamb. Lars pranced around the small outer office almost seeming to sneer at the surroundings while he chatted with Randy. Jovan stood aside, politely and quietly and just observed. Looking down as Lars smugly inspected the office, Beef decided that Lars needed a large bow on the top of his head, a large pink bow, along with a pink party dress, the kind that a spoiled, bratty little girl might wear.

Randy was polite and respectful towards Lars, as Randy was towards nearly everyone. The detective was aware of and beginning to understand a quirk in Randy's personality, the reason that his assistant would tolerate obnoxious people like Lars. His investigation of the molestation charges against Randy revealed his assistant had been exposed to abusive people in the home he grew up in and being tolerant of abusive, obnoxious was probably part of a survival tactic. Now Randy's tolerance of abusive people was probably just a case of his assistant not realizing that he did not have to put up with that sort of behavior. Matson was aware how people who were into substance abuse would zero in on his Randy. His clean-cut, polite and well mannered assistant seemed to be the ideal kind of person an addict wanted to wanted to latch onto, someone who would take care of things while the addict slid further into addiction. This was one of the reasons Beef Matson would have Randy accompany him when he met with clients, watching how people reacted towards Randy told Beef volumes about the people he was dealing with. While Randy would tolerant someone being obnoxious, Randy would not tolerate substance abuse. Randy had told Beef once that he had observed too many drunks when he was younger and that sort of behavior no longer had any place in his life.

True to form, Lars was handing out uncomplimentary zingers. First off, Lars stated that it was good that Randy had made such an effort to make Beef Matson's office look nice, though it was still obvious that everything was second hand. Beef contemplated asking Lars to leave, but having a confrontation might interfere with his plan to get Randy into a holiday mood. Then Lars began to zero in on Randy, lampooning the blond with criticisms, while the time flashing little smiles at Beef on the stepladder. The detective displayed total disinterest in Lars, though Lars's comments were beginning to fuel a slow burn inside of Beef. Lars told Randy how dreadful the news articles about the molestation charges against Randy were and inquired about the current happenings in his life. Randy told Lars about the eviction notice, about getting hate mail and so on. Lars continued to speak in a way that seemed to imply that he felt the charges against Randy were true.

Randy

At the same time Lars expressed deep sympathy for Beef's assistant and then added that he didn't know how Randy could possibly emerge from all of his problems. Beef began noticed that Randy was rapidly sliding into a deep melancholy, thanks in large part to Lars's assistance. Suddenly, Randy made a disturbing comment.

"Maybe you're right…” said Randy, a worried, distant expression on his face, "Maybe there is no good way out of this…maybe if I just went to sleep and never woke up again…"
A sudden shock of alarm raced through Beef, however Lars continued to rattle on with depraved indifference.
"Considering the way things are," observed Lars, "It might just be better if you did off yourself."
Beef had an immediate impulse of shock and anger. The detective quickly got off the stepladder and walked up behind Lars, gripping the slender young man by the collar and back of his pants. Without much effort the muscular Matson lifted Lars up off the floor and escorted him to the door.
"I think you need to leave now," said Beef, "We have so much to do here and I'm sure your schedule is just chuck full of important things to do."
Lars found that the tips of his shoes were barely touching the floor until Beef dropped him out in the hallway.
"Good-bye," said Beef cheerily and turned around and walked back into the office. Both Randy and Jovan had surprised looks on their faces as Beef walked back through the door. Somewhat embarrassed, Jovan politely excused himself to join Lars in the hallway and unlike Lars, Beef and Randy gave him a warm goodbye.
Stomping down the hallway, an irritated Lars complained to Jovan. "I should sue his ass off for manhandling me like that."
"Telling Randy that he should off himself…" observed Jovan, "That's pretty low…even for you."
"I wouldn't worry about that blond pretty boy…" stated Lars, "I bet that fag gets anything he wants."
"It's obvious what you want…Beef Matson."
"Oh please…" replied Lars.
"Besides, I don't see why you should be complaining…" continued Jovan, "That's probably the closest you've been to a man you've been in a long time."
"I have plenty of dates…" protested Lars.
"Your middle-aged straight lady friend doesn't count…" responded Jovan, "especially when you're just helping her find cocaine."
"Humph…" Was all Lars would mutter at he stalked down the hallway towards the stairwell.

*********
"I just saved a bundle on my car insurance!"

Later in the day Berry Starr arrived at the private investigator's office to have little chat with Beef. Her trip into the city had a double purpose; she had gone to shop at Tic and Tac's vintage clothing to for an outfit she could wear at the Christmas party she and Bobbi were planning. Her shopping foray had been successful and she carried a large bag from Tic and Tac's. Beef and Berry's meeting was short and they decided to treat Randy for a lunch at the Cozy Cup restaurant. Randy asked if he could ask Minerva of the aromas and potions shop along.

When he had chatted with the other tenants of the building earlier in the morning, Minerva had told him that business in her shop was terrible, sales were way down. Randy felt that she needed cheering up and he wanted to buy her lunch. Berry and Beef thought that would be a good idea and the trio arrived at Minerva's shop, convinced her to put up an out to lunch sign and the foursome headed off to the Cozy Cup. The weather had improved slightly, with the clouds breaking up somewhat and sunbeams breaking through like roaming searchlights over the city.

The group found an empty booth at the back of the restaurant and Beef and Randy slid into one side of the booth and the women on the other. Minerva had brought along a big fabric bag from her store so she could show Berry samples of scents and lotions she had. Minerva began to protest about ordering anything for herself and Beef stepped in and insisted that she order something substantial; he was buying. As usual, music was pouring from speakers in the eatery, Linda Ronstadt belting out "Someone To Watch Over Me", and there was random chatter throughout the place. As Berry was sampling some lotion and applying it to her wrist, Minerva happened to be staring out the window. A beam of sunlight swept down the block, spotlighting everything in a bright light. Suddenly, something caught Minerva's eye. "That woman out there…look on the street. She's the one who came into my shop asking about Beef and Randy."
Everyone in the booth immediately looked out through the window.
"See…" said Minerva, "Those two women across the street. The one woman who's kind short and plump and the woman who's older and on the slender side."
"Those two…?" blurted out Randy, "I know that woman. She was the woman who gave us a lot of trouble when I helped my cousin Justin get stuff from his office…when he was laid off. She's a personnel manager or something. I recognize her walk, she walks like a little tank with those short, chubby legs of hers."
"No," corrected Minerva, "I mean the older woman. She's the one who came into my shop, with two other women. The short woman was not with them."
Berry made a sudden observation. "I know the chubby woman, too. Not very well. She was at a networking meeting I attended once…we talked a little bit and I do remember her. In fact…she called me the other day. About Randy's case, too." Berry looked over at Randy. "She wanted to let me know what a really bad boy you are."
Randy directed his eyes up at the ceiling and shrugged his shoulders. The group kept their eyes on the two women as they quickly walked down the block and disappeared from view.
"Well…" Beef Matson added with a sudden exuberance, "Isn't this a kick in the head. Our lunch has just become part of my investigation. You know what that means?"
"Serendipity?" replied Minerva.
"Well, that too…" replied the detective, "but it also means this lunch has just become a bona fid a business deduction, so I'm buying you folks lunch…order whatever you want. Then while we are eating we can have a little chitchat and share what you know about those two women. I also have some good news…"
The group looked towards Beef in a pregnant pause.
"I just saved a bundle on my car insurance!" announced the detective.

When Beef states "I just saved a bundle on my car insurance!", he is making a reference to the catch phrase of a series of humorous radio and television insurance commercials in the United States.

The other occupants of the booth immediately groaned in disapproval. Blanche, the waitress strolled over to the booth with her order pad, looking at the group with a tin eye. "Usually people don't groan until after they've eaten here," she joked. "How's the detective and his office person today?" Then Blanche observed noticed Minerva's fabric bag and the samples that Berry was investigating. Minerva explained that the samples were from her shop and Blanche commented that her co-worker, Dorothy would probably be interested in looking at the samples as well. Blanche yelled out to Dorothy in a high-pitched voice, trying to imitate actress Frances Bavier, "Oh Dorothy, come over here and look. Sheriff Taylor and Opie have brought in a city woman and she's got some real nice samples for us to look at." The entire restaurant turned around to look towards Minerva who had a surprised and slightly embarrassed look on her face. Beef Matson smiled and assumed a laid back position in the booth. "Now Aunt Bee…don't you go getting all excited." Blanche looked at the detective with an amazed look on her face. "Just how do you do that, Beef?" then the waitress addressed the detective's companions, "Don't you think that was a convincing Andy Griffith? This man is one terrific impressionist." The others nodded. Blanche took the group's orders and left the booth. Other people began to approach the booth and ask to look over Minerva's samples, and still others came to ask about Minerva's shop, if she carried certain items or did fortune telling and the like, some apologizing for not coming in more often. The sudden attention was very obviously lifting Minerva's spirits. "And you didn't want to come with us to lunch…" reminded Randy, "Look at all the business it's getting you. You should get out more often."
"I guess I should…" replied Minerva, a gentle smile on her face.

During their lunch Beef discussed with Minerva and Berry how they may be able to get some information about the woman who came into Minerva's shop asking questions. Beef then asked Minerva if she would like to go on the payroll for a few hours as part of the investigation. Minerva agreed to the adventure. The sunlight disappeared from the street outside, the clouds became thicker and darker and rain began to pelt the windows. A clap of rare California thunder rattled the windows. The weather drove more customers into the restaurant and the Cozy Cup was alive with chatter and music spilled from the jukebox. Thunder announced itself a couple of times more but the restaurant seemed oblivious to the storm outside. "I'll Always Love You" by Taylor Dane faded out on the jukebox to be replaced by another song. "Listen…" alerted Randy, "It's 'The Christmas Song' by Nat King Cole. Whenever you hear that song, you know it's officially Christmas." The warmly lit restaurant with its music, twinkling holiday lights and the smell of coffee and food was a glowing fortress in the gathering storm.

"The Christmas Song" by Nat King Cole

*********
"…Just be Katherine Hepburn."

Back at her office, Berry Starr was checking her voice mail. She found she had a return call from the district attorney's office back in Illinois. The message confirmed that her would be no charges against Randy Hardwicke, the district attorney's office felt there was no evidence that would mandate a case against Randy. However, the attorney for Rocky Ledbauer was resolute. His message stated that he felt he was being ignored by Berry and that if the case was not resolved out of court soon, he would go ahead with the civil suit against Randy.

Next Berry called Nancy, the woman she, Minerva, Beef and Randy had seen walking outside of the Cozy Cup. Berry told Nancy that she was returning a call because of a voice mail Nancy had left, advising her to not represent Randy. Nancy seemed not to be interested in Berry's call, telling the lawyer she merely made the call on behalf of a group that she was no longer part of. Nancy would give Berry no information about the group. The lawyer was doodling on a pad of paper in front of her and printed out the words "anal-retentive". Berry tried to engage Nancy in some idle conversation in an attempt to obtain some information. Nancy was tight lipped and made some veiled, disapproving comments about Berry living with another woman but finally did relate that she had lost her job and was looking for another position. Berry suggested that maybe she could help Nancy out by referring her to an agency for contract and temporary work.
"I had many satisfying and enjoyable contract assignments myself," Berry lied.
Nancy jumped at the offer of a referral and Berry gave her a number and the name of a woman she should talk to. After Nancy hung up, Berry called her friend at the employment agency and asked her to call her back if and when Nancy made an appointment with her. Berry's friend called back a short time later, apparently this Nancy was anxious to make an appointment. Then Berry called Beef and gave him the date and time of Nancy's appointment.

Beef Matson brought Minerva into Tic and Tac's vintage clothing shop. Beef's plan was to have Minerva 'accidentally' meet Nancy and invite her to have a coffee and see if Minerva could pry any information out of Nancy about the woman who had been in Minerva's shop. All Minerva had to do was have coffee with the woman, engage her in conversation, which the detective would be recording via a bug in Minerva's purse. Minerva was beginning to get the jitters about the plan. She suggested that Bobbi or Berry would be better choice for the encounter, however Beef told Minerva that the woman, Nancy, knew Bobbi and Berry both and would probably not be candid with either of them…but perhaps she would open up to another upwardly mobile professional woman…and that's where Minerva came into the picture and that's why Beef had brought her to Tic and Tac's shop.

A View inside Tic and Tac's Vintage Clothing

Besides, Beef reminded her, it would be just a few hours of her time and it would mean a little extra money for her during this lean business year. Using their substantial collection of clothing, Tic and Tac would turn Minerva into the very model of a professional woman. As Beef left their shop Tic and Tac went to work and several minutes later, a redressed Minerva was standing in front of a mirror, looking none too pleased with her reflection.

Tic and Tac, however, were beside themselves with joy. To the two young women, outfitting Minerva was like preparing an actress for a performance. They told Minerva how their dream jobs would to have been wardrobe mistresses for a major movie studio back in the golden age of Hollywood.
"I'm glad you're enjoying this…" complained Minerva, "but I just feel very strange."
Minerva turned around and Tic and Tic strolled around her, inspecting her. Gone was the free spirit Minerva of potions and scents and in her place was a sensible looking business women in a gray suit, white blouse, a black tie and shoes. She held a square, shiny black purse in her hand.
"Perfection!" remarked Tac.
"Perfection!" confirmed Tic.
"Oh gosh…" whined Minerva, "I just don't feel really good about this…what are you doing back there?"
"Just padding out the caboose so there aren't any lumps back here," replied Tac, "Back in the days of the major Hollywood studios, dressers would put clumps of tissue under dresses so everything would look totally smooth and perfect."
"Oh please don't do that," pleaded Minerva, "I'd hate to be walking down a downtown street with clumps of tissue falling out of my dress."
Tic smiled at Tac and winked.
"You look just totally perfect, dear," encouraged Tac, "You're just perfect for the part."
"That's just it…" complained Minerva, "I just don't feel the part."
"Can you think of some movie about a business woman that you've seen?" asked Tic.
"I remember some movie I saw on T.V., it was from the 1950's I think. With Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy," replied Minerva.
"Oh…" added Tic energetically, "That would be the movie 'Desk Set'. That's absolutely perfect. Just be Katherine Hepburn."
"Think Hepburn," corrected Tac, "Don't try doing Hepburn's voice."
Tic and Tac looked at each other and shook their heads negatively.
"Just use your own voice," added Tac, "But be Hepburn!"
"Just remember, you're playing a role…" instructed Tic, "and all of San Francisco is your stage!"
"Oh dear." replied Minerva quietly, "I feel so out of my element."

Moments later Beef Matson reappeared in the shop and whisked Minerva off to play her role on the streets of San Francisco. The detective gave Minerva some thorough but simple instructions. When Nancy would be leaving a temporary employment agency that Berry Starr had sent her, the woman would be catching a bus not far from the agency's office. All Minerva would need to do would be to wait at the bus stop and strike up a conversation with Nancy and try to get her to come with her for a coffee. Then Minerva would need to try to get Nancy to talk about her most recent employment and hopefully the woman would reveal something useful. Matson reassured Minerva. A number of things could go wrong…Nancy could simply refuse to have a coffee. In any case, nothing would be lost; some other arrangement could be made in the future. Minerva just needed to stay calm and let things happen as they may. Beef Matson would stay in contact with Minerva by cell phone and would be only a short distance away if there were any problems.

Beef let Minerva off about a block away from the bus stop and he drove to where he could watch the employment agency. A short time later Minerva got a call from the detective while she waited at the bus stop. Nancy had left the agency and was walking towards the bus stop. The agency was only a block and a half away from the bus stop and soon Nancy was standing at the stop, right in front of Minerva. Minerva summoned her courage and began to talk with the woman. Nancy looked Minerva over and decided she identified with this very prim businesswoman. Minerva began talking about business contacts and networking and Nancy was immediately interested, that she was looking for a new position. Then Minerva suggested that if Nancy had the time, they could walk to a nearby coffee shop and chat for a while. Nancy took the bait.

Once in the coffee shop, Nancy gratefully accepted Minerva's offer to pay for her coffee and pastry. The two women sat in a booth and Minerva carefully placed her purse so that the microphone inside would point towards the woman. It wasn't difficult to get Nancy to talk. Apparently she had very few friends and the woman began to gush all kinds of personal information about her life. Soon, whatever nervousness Minerva had about the encounter was replaced with boredom, to the point she felt her eyes were beginning to glaze over. As Nancy prattled on about her last few years working in the personnel department at some large corporation, Minerva decided that this person she was sharing coffee with was not someone she liked. In fact, the more Nancy spoke, the more irritating Minerva found her.

The conversation became more of a lecture by Nancy, the woman heaped a pile of steaming vitriol upon Minerva regarding Nancy's anger towards the company that had employed and just terminated her along with her views about the world in general. Nancy felt betrayed by the company. She had identified with the corporation's conservative views and helped to apply its conservative agenda to its staff. The board of directors wanted its employees to be mostly conservative, white, heterosexual, married, under 30 years old and mostly female and through Nancy's efforts that's exactly what the company staff ended up being. At the same time, Nancy even cleverly portrayed the company as embracing diversity. When company management got into social engineering and decided more female employees needed to be mothers, Nancy was at the helm, encouraging women employees to become pregnant and putting up posters congratulating those employees who were to become mothers. Then of course, those women's names would be put to the top of the to be laid off list since their pregnancy and resulting dependants cause them to use more benefits and be more costly to the company. How Nancy relished her position. Hers was the last word on everything, how employees should dress, if and what kind of music they could listen to, what they could have in their cubicles…everything. How she skillfully and efficiently terminated people; when Nancy terminated someone, the person did not know what had hit them…they were out the door in minutes. She had made sizable contributions to conservative politicians and causes, even when not requested to do so by the company. The company knew how loyal she was and how successful and efficient she had been in applying every corporate desire. Nancy could not understand how they could betray her so. Minerva managed sympathetic smiles and quietly wished she were back at her shop, her tummy beginning to rumble.

Nancy continued with a machine gun rant, this time focusing on her personal views and frustrations. How a new employment position would require a good salary so she could maintain her standard of living. How Nancy had very strict standards in how her house looked and what kind of furniture, clothing, personal items and food she bought. How much money she was putting out each month just for the loan payment on her SUV, car insurance and gas. How incensed she had gotten when the car wash people sprayed an spice fragrance inside her SUV instead of the lemon scent she preferred. All of the effort to keep her life just so resulted in a fair amount of stress which Nancy dealt with by using prescription drugs, which she used to quietly purchase from one of her employees, the very last woman she laid off. The woman further commented on what a nuisance her sudden loss of income was, she had been planning on getting some cosmetic surgery which would now have to be postponed indefinitely.

Nancy had a number of frustrations with men, mostly that they were too hairy, muscular, and masculine and not disciplined enough. Nancy's demands of a partner were simple. A boyfriend had damn well better anticipate her every mood, comfort her accordingly and be prepared to perform a lot of chores. The only reason Nancy seemed to have for getting involved with someone was to have a man to show off and other than that, her only other interest in a man was that of a laborer. And Nancy was a demanding boss; she felt that men could barely notice pain and did not get as tired as women did. Her last two relationships ended when she simply lost interest in them.

Nancy wasn't too thrilled with women either. She complained that every single woman who came to work for her as a temporary employee was stupid and lazy. Her general opinion of women employees was that they were equally stupid cows that were easily herded and manipulated. She related how the company wanted to redirect its women employees' attention away from salary and benefit concerns. So Nancy conducted in company seminars for women advising them not to make financial demands of the downtrodden company and instead redirect their energies to finding a nice man who would not only fix their financial situation for them but all of their emotional issues as well. The company even allowed some women to share cubicles with their favorite male employee. Nancy cynically remarked how well the ploy worked, how the silly women were too busy chasing after men to observe that their benefits were being hacked to pieces. And then of course, some of the women's preoccupation with men could later be used as a reason for termination. In general, Nancy concluded that there were very few people in the world who could work fast or hard enough to please her.

Nancy totally embraced homophobia, though she prefaced her bias with a "I'm not prejudiced, but…" The former personnel specialist expressed the view that if a man was not heterosexual, she had no use for him at all. As far as Nancy was concerned, gay men should be socially engineered into becoming perfect companions for straight women and that being gay was a nuisance, a dirty behavior that needed to be snuffed out. She was proud of the fact she systematically rooted out all the homosexuals in her company…and she was surprised just how many there were. Nancy had no more tolerance for lesbians. She felt homosexual behavior among women was immature and showed an arrested emotional state…that if lesbians had any use at all they were subservient creatures whose only purpose was to serve straight women. She felt all women had an obligation to be involved in a heterosexual marriage and produce children…though somehow she excepted herself. Nancy admitted that there were those who felt homosexuality was natural, but whether a behavior was natural or not, every person had an obligation to conform and be exactly what society demanded of them. Nancy revealed that she personally felt that some part of the brain was responsible for homosexual behavior and if that part of the brain was removed, homosexuality could be cured. Minerva decided now would not be a good time to come out to Nancy, in fact, she was resisting a temptation to reach across the table and slap this woman.

Then Nancy began to express her views about corporations and the world in general. In Nancy's mind, she had placed corporations on a pedestal. Everything was secondary to the needs of corporations; after all, all money flowed from the omnipotent corporation. A person's politics, religious beliefs, sexual orientation, marital status, tastes in music, everything…should be determined by the corporation. She believed the purpose of the women’s' movement was merely to make sure that everyone was straight, married and conformed to the standards of society and the corporate world. Nancy had been sent to many seminars to teach her the corporate viewpoint of things. Loyalty to things like family and church were corny relics, loyalty should be instead invested in the corporation, since it was from the corporation that all money flowed. Even loyalty to country was also a relic…Nancy had been taught in one of the company sponsored seminars she attended that the United States one day may have to be broken up into smaller countries to better serve the needs of large corporations. Nancy was also a firm believer in class distinctions. She believe that a small number people like herself were meant to be privileged and everyone one else was meant to serve and struggle.

Then Nancy paused and looked at the dazed look on Minerva's face, it seemed she suddenly realized that only she was doing all the talking. She gazed at Minerva's purse and grabbed it, looking it over. Minerva's heart leaped. If Nancy opened the purse and found the microphone and transmitter inside…
"What an interesting bag," exclaimed Nancy, "Very unique, love the basic black…sort of an art deco design. Where'd you get it?"
"Oh…it is very unique," responded Minerva calmly, "I picked it up at a vintage clothing…"
"Vintage clothing…" interrupted Nancy sharply, "It was used?"
"Well…yes."
"I would never buy anything that has been used. I only acquire new." Nancy promptly lost interest in the purse and placed it back down on the table. Minerva smiled and patted the purse, carefully pointing the microphone side back towards Nancy. "So…" continued Minerva, attempting to get the conversation back on track, "Have you had any success in finding a new position yet?" Nancy began to tell her table companion all about her experiences with Gloria. Bingo.

Nancy related how she had gotten a call just a couple days after she had been terminated offering her an assignment, that she had been referred by someone at her old company. Nancy leaned across the table and quietly asked Minerva if she had heard about the child molestation charges leveled against the assistant of gay detective Beef Matson.
"Of course…" replied Minerva, "Who hasn't?"
"Well…" Nancy smiled with a delicious smile, "They probably wouldn't want me to talk about this…but they did not treat me very well at all, so I really don't care." The woman revealed that the group she went to work for was part off a shadowy organization funded by various right wing religious and political groups with money perhaps even being funneled in from the military. The purpose of the group was to spy on and deliberately harass groups and individuals within the gay community with the intention of neutralizing the gay community politically. The group was determined to have Randy Hardwicke convicted or labeled as a child molester primarily to as a way to tarnish Beef Matson's reputation. Apparently the famous gay detective had interfered with past efforts to ruin other gay individuals and as a result there were people connected with the right wing that wanted trash Matson big time and make an example of him. The detective was deemed to be an uppity faggot who was too smart for his own good. On top of everything else Beef Matson was becoming a positive gay role model and that could not be permitted. The group Nancy had worked with was aggressively trying to get information on Matson, his assistant Randy and the lawyer Berry Starr. The group was also working behind the scenes with the intention of making Randy Hardwicke's life miserable, they had gotten the management company that owned Randy's building to serve him with an eviction notice, they arranged for people to have unpleasant confrontations with Randy, and were conducting a general hate campaign along with various other mischievous nuances. Nancy told Minerva that the team was comprised of three woman, with the head of the group named Gloria. For some strange reason a little girl accompanied them, though none of the women in the group was the girl's mother. All Gloria would tell Nancy about the girl was that she was their 'secret weapon'. On one occasion there was a plumpish, middle-aged masculine looking woman who came into the office to report to Gloria. There was also a man associated with the group that Nancy never met. This man was their special projects person, he would do things like plant listening devices, conduct surveillance and arrange dirty tricks. Nancy told Minerva about the church offices the group was using, how dismal and cold the offices were compare to what Nancy had been used to and where they were located.

Nancy began to rant about the Gloria woman. Nancy looked forward to working with the team and the idea of working behind the scenes to ruin a homosexual…she could really get into that. However, the team leader, Gloria, was another matter. No matter how hard Nancy worked, no matter what she suggested or whatever Nancy accomplished…Gloria would find fault with it. On top of it all, Nancy considered Gloria to be a queen bee witch. Everything had to be specifically the way Gloria wanted it to be. When Nancy observed that she wasn't being included in the out of office activities, Gloria took Nancy on a horrible trek through a gay neighborhood giving Nancy a near impossible task of compiling information on just about the entire neighborhood. Then when Nancy was in the chilly church office working on the project, Gloria suddenly terminated her position.
"You know why that witch fired me?" asked Nancy.
Minerva shook her head no.
"I kept putting my coat on the back of my chair for warmth in that stupid mausoleum they called an office," related Nancy. "That Gloria can't stand to have coats on the back of chairs…with her they have to be hanging in a closet. She caught me twice with my coat hanging on the back of my chair. The third time the silly witch fired me! And on top of it all…she had the nerve to tell me I wasn't a team player!"

*********

On his way home, Randy decided to stop in at one of the bars near the office and have a drink before he headed home. He hadn't really done any bar hopping since his trip to Illinois and if felt good just to have a drink and chat with some of the guys he knew, it helped get his mind off some of his problems. He didn't stay long and headed home to his apartment. The evening was still early but it was cold night and damp as well. It was cloudy with the lights of the city giving a pale light to the low ceiling of clouds. A light, mist like rain was falling. Like so many other nights, Randy decided he would walk home. As he pushed up his jacket collar around his neck his thoughts turned to packing up his belongings and where he might ultimately end up moving to. About halfway home Randy noticed how deserted the streets were, especially now that the rain began to pick up. He wondered if he should have taken a cab instead of walking. The point now was probably a moot one since he was nearly home and the young man put his hands in his jacket pockets and held his head down low to keep the rain out of his eyes. He thought how good something hot to drink would be when he got home. Anything. It just had to be hot.

With his head down and trudging along into the wet wind, Randy had no idea that he was being followed. He had no idea that a car that had driven past had already driven past him twice before. He had no knowledge that the car was then parked on a side street and its driver was now following him on foot. Randy did get a sudden feeling of being alone and vulnerable on the deserted streets. He lifted his eyes up to gaze at the deserted wet street stretched out ahead of him. There were no other pedestrians or even any cars driving down the street. Randy suddenly felt a warning, an immediate need to be walking faster. A picture kept flashing in his mind of being in his apartment and shutting and locking his apartment door. He shook the momentary feeling of dread out of his mind; he would be home soon.

The man following Randy was now not far behind him. He walked quietly but quickly so that the young man was not aware of his approach. The approaching figure kept to the shadows and discreetly carried a large wood board close to his side. Randy's thoughts once again drifted to what he needed to pack and how much time he had to get everything packed. He wondered how he would balance all his tasks and how he might work in some shopping to get his friends some gifts for Christmas…

Randy's thoughts were abruptly interrupted. He felt a sudden hard blow to his upper back. It threw him off balance and he fell forward, onto his hands and knees. In addition to the harsh impact, he also felt a burning, stinging sensation in his upper back. The man now standing over him had slammed the wooden board into Randy's upper back. He now intended to bring the board down hard on the young, blond head. Randy was on all fours, trying to catch his breath so he could stand upright. The man lifted up the board slightly and brought it down again swiftly. However, one of the man's legs slid out in front of him and the blow was off target, landing a glancing blow to the side of Randy's head. The strike was still hard enough to send Randy rolling on his side. As Randy struggled to lift himself from the sidewalk, his attacker lifted the board to land a more direct hit on the top of Randy's head. Once again, one of the man's feet skidded on the sidewalk, this time almost as if something yanked the attacker's leg forward.

This caused the man to thrust the board above his head where the light colored board was caught in the gleam of a streetlight. Just then the sound of screeching of car tires split the night silence. There was the sound of an opening car door and a man's voice yelling.
"Hey! What in the hell are you doing?"
Randy's attacker quickly turned his head away from the street, throwing the board off to one side and began to run down the street. The assailant made a sharp turn into an alley losing his balance, as if something lifted him up and thrown him and then he fell against a building wall in the process. He recovered from the fall, flailing his arms and legs and bouncing off the alley walls and running like an escaping rat.
The man from the car ran over to Randy who had now slowly settled into a motionless pile on the sidewalk. The man knelt down next to Randy and put in a call to 911 on his cell phone.

Randy sunk into a deep, dark pit of unconsciousness, emerging from it for only short periods. The bright light inside of the rescue squad brought him around for a few seconds during which Randy thought he saw his old boyfriend from his days in Illinois sitting beside him inside the cab. Then Randy faded out again until he found he was lying on a gurney. The people around him told him he was in a hospital emergency room and began asking him questions. There were two policemen in the room and they asked Randy questions about his attacker. Randy could tell them nothing. The hospital staff began asking Randy about his next of kin and someone to call. Randy gave them Beef's name and his office number before he passed out again.

The next time Randy woke up he was in a bed in a darkened hospital room; a nurse had awakened him. Randy looked out the window while the nurse poured some water into a glass and put a couple of pills into a paper cup. Through the window he could see a starry night sky and the lights of the city. The other three beds in the room were empty.
"Mr. Hardwicke…" asked the nurse, "Do you know where you are?"
"In a hospital…I guess," answered Randy.
"I need to give you some medication," informed the nurse, "the doctor prescribed some pain pills for you as needed…these will help you sleep."
"I thought that's what I was doing," replied Randy.
"I believe someone tried to mug you," said the nurse gently. "They checked you out pretty thoroughly in the emergency room and you don't have any serious injuries, just a bad concussion so we need to keep you here for observation for awhile. And you ended up with a nasty cut on your upper right shoulder; apparently the board the attacker used had a nail or something sticking out of it. Your shoulder required a couple of stitches and it's bandaged up. It may bleed a little so the dressings will have to be changed tomorrow."
Randy clearly remembered the sudden impact and the stinging sensation. He reached up and felt the padding of bandages on his upper back. The nurse took Randy's temperature and blood pressure, gave Randy take a couple of pills to take and then the young man eased back into the bed. The nurse turned off the light and told Randy to press a buzzer if he wanted anything.
"Don't worry dear," she said softly and reassuringly, "Everything's alright…you're safe now."

The next time Randy awoke it was daylight and the room was quite different. A noisy patient who was afflicted with a sort of palsy occupied a bed on the other side of the room from him. There was also a lot of noise from the hallway, primary the chatter of hospital staff, gossiping and complaining about doctors and other staff members. A woman came into the room and sat in a chair on the other side of the room near the bed of the other patient. From the conversation the woman had with the hospital staff, she was a "sitter", meaning she was supposed keep a constant watch on the other patient who had a tendency to wonder away from his bed and out into the halls. It soon became clear that this woman did not have any interest in watching the man with palsy, she click on a TV nearest to her and began watching music videos. She also liked to stare at Randy and from her loud conversations with other staff members out in the hallway she also had an interest in the young man that was something other than medical. The staff members apparently had no idea how their loud voices carried clearly into the room and that Randy was well aware that they considered him a hot item and the sitter was doing her best to find out all kinds of information about Randy. Randy had also awoken with a throbbing headache and he found his dressings were drenched in blood, which had also gotten onto his sheets and pillow.

When a nurse came to check his temperature and blood pressure, Randy asked her if he could get his dressings changed and get a couple of pills for his headache. Immediately the patient in the other bed began to yell.
"If he's getting some pills…I want to get mine!"
"Norman," replied the nurse, "You just got your medication, you'll have to wait for your next dose."
The nurse began to walk away from Randy's bed and he repeated his request about the dressings and his medication. The nurse looked back at Randy with a frown and said tersely, "If and when I have time…I'm very busy." The young, blond nurse then strolled over to where the sitter was and had a conversation with her, asking the sitter her opinion on the nurse's plans for continuing education, discussing her plans for buying a new condo and a number of other things. Part of the conversation involved Randy; the sitter was very, very interested in Randy. Finally the nurse left and other hospital staff members came in to converse with sitter. The sitter loved to preach about her religion and talk about her church. One of the cleaning women came in to talk with the sitter. The cleaning woman looked over Randy from across the room and asked the sitter, "Is he the one?" The sitter nodded to the other woman and the woman muttered back to her, "My, my…hmmm, hmmm," as if the woman were looking at delicious plate of ribs. The social activity in the room along with the blaring music videos was agitating the other patient who was already clearly agitated and, in fact, seemed to be totally wired. Mostly the patient wanted more medication and he would talk incessantly like he was delivering a lecture. Several times, while the sitter was wrapped up in conversations, the patient would steal out into the hallway, only to be escorted back by hospital staff or security personnel. Unlike the night shift, the hospital day shift was a circus.

Randy was doing his best to deal with the cacophony in spite of his roaring headache. The nurse appeared in the room a few more times to talk with other patient and the sitter but she ignored Randy. When Randy asked if he could have some medication for his pain and have his dressings changed, her response was the same, when she found time, she was busy. In addition, Randy found the sitter's constant stare irritating so he got up from his bed and pulled the privacy curtain around his bed. "Why you pull you curtain…I likes to look at you," was the sitter's response. As if things could not get any worse, after awhile the sitter turned on the TV over the empty patient bed next to Randy and began to watch that one in addition to her music videos. The sitter clicked awhile through the channels until she found what she wanted. She then turned up the volume on that TV and then walked over and turned the TV to face Randy. "You should watch this…" she advised, "This be what goin' to happen to you if don't change your ways." The movie "Philadelphia" was showing on the TV. The woman then returned to her chair and turned up the volume on her music videos. The other patient responded by being even more agitated and engaged in several more confrontations with the staff. Randy tried calling Beef to let him know where he was but only got Matson's voice mail, so he just left a message. All Randy could do was to feel angry and frustrated and wish that he were home…at least he could take off the soaked bandages there and take a shower.

"Well Skipper, I must've hit my head when the Minnow ran aground."

A few minutes later, as Randy lie in the bed trying to ignore the all the noise and his headache, he heard some more commotion at the doorway to his hospital room. Mostly it was voices and some of the voices sounded familiar. Suddenly a group of familiar faces burst into the room. It was his boss, Beef Matson, along with Tony from Just Desserts and Berry Starr and Bobbi. From across the room Beef peered around Randy's curtain and spotted him.
"There he is!" said Beef.
The group rushed over to Randy's bedside while the sitter flashed a disapproving expression. Randy smiled a sheepish, embarrassed smile; it was so good to see some familiar faces. His friends had brought a couple of boxes of candy and a vase of flowers that were placed on the nightstand next to the bed. The sitter, who was munching on a bag of potato chips, put the bag down, got up from her chair, flashed an unhappy glare in the direction of Randy's bed and trotted out of the room.
"The hospital called me about you this morning…" explained Beef, "Would have been down here sooner but since visitor's hours first start at eleven anyway, we decided to make it a group effort. Kind of a shock to get a call like that."
"You really put a scare into your detective boss," laughed Tony, "He was ready to call out the troops this morning."
"Tony…let's not be telling tales," discouraged Beef.
Tony pointed his finger at Beef, "Like a distraught mother hen," he a sided to Randy.
"I understand it was a sneak attack," said Beef, "What do you remember about it?"
"Not much at all," replied Randy, "Just a big, stinging slam against my upper back, then somebody trying to whack my head and just a lot of darkness after that. I'd like to say that I went to a Technicolor place with a lot of munchkins and you and you and you were there, but it was just darkness. Not even a tunnel with a bright light at the end."
"Well, little buddy…" said Matson patting his assistant on the leg, "We'll get you out of here in no time."
"Little buddy…?" puzzled Randy. "Well Skipper, I must've hit my head when the Minnow ran aground. It would be nice to get something for my headache."
"Hasn't the doctor prescribed something for your pain?" asked Beef.
"Yeah," replied Randy, "but I haven't been able to get the nurse on this shift to give me my meds. She says she's too busy."
Beef frowned.
"I would have brought in some of my fantastic home made chili for you," announced Bobbi, "But someone I know ate the last of it." Bobbi pointed her finger at Berry while pretending to look elsewhere. Randy smiled.
"I brought some donuts for you…fresh from my shop," added Tony and he placed the small box on the bedside table.
"Thanks Tony…really," replied Randy, "My appetite's not the best right now, but I will have some later. What I would like the is to just go home, change these bandages and take a shower."
"Oh my gosh, Randy," said Berry in a disturbed tone of voice, " Your back and pillow are just full of blood. Haven't they been changing your bandages?"
"No," answered Randy, "That's another thing they haven't had time to do."
"I think someone needs to have a little chit-chat with the nurse," commented Berry. With the sound of music videos coming from one TV in the background, the TV at the bed next to Randy, which was showing the movie "Philadelphia" was now screaming out an operatic aria which was part of the movie.
"What is with these TVs?" asked an irritated Berry. "There's no one in that bed…who's watching that TV?"
Randy explained about the sitter and that she wanted him to watch "Philadelphia" as a lesson as to what will happen to him if he did not change his ways. His four visitors looked at each other in amazement. Shortly after, the sitter returned to her chair and sat watching Randy and his visitors with a look of disapproval and munching on snack chips. The operatic aria continued to wail from the one TV.
"Good God almighty…" said Berry reaching the end of her patience, "This is totally ridiculous, this place is as noisy as a sports bar…I'm turning that set off." Berry got up and walked over to the empty bed and reached up and turned off the TV. The sitter immediately spoke to her.
"Why you turn that TV off? Turn that back on."
"Excuse me?" responded the lawyer.
"That TV…it supposed to be on," squawked the sitter again.
"Why…there’s no one in this bed. Who's watching it?"
"I want him to be watching it…" the sitter pointed toward Randy, "He need to watch that movie so he know what going to happen to him if he keeps living the way he is."
Berry responded with an incredulous glare aimed at the sitter. "He will decide for himself what he wants to watch," said Berry matter of fact.
"Who you…" retorted the sitter, "his lawyer?"
"Yes…” said Berry glaring at the sitter, "That's exactly who I am…his lawyer."
As Berry turned to sit down with the rest of the group the nurse came into the room and the sitter motioned for the nurse to chat with her. The two women buzzed with each other for a while. The nurse then approached the group.
"Are you all related to this patient?" she inquired sternly. Beef replied that he was Randy's boss and the rest of the group was close friends. Berry added that their group was very much like family. Then the nurse began to get insistent that unless they were related to Randy that they would have to cut their visit short…that she did not want Randy to have a lot of stimulation. After which Berry brought up the topic of the opera music blaring from one TV and the music videos blearing on the TV that the sitter was watching. The nurse stated that was not the same thing. Then Berry Starr mentioned the issue of Randy not getting his medication or having his dressings changed. The nurse replied that she did not have enough time.
"That's funny," observed Berry, "You have enough time to chat with your friend over there and enough time to harass us. I would think you should be able to work at getting this patient's pills and a cup of water into your schedule without any problem at all."
"I asked him if he wanted me to give him a sponge bath, but he said no," added the sitter, "I likes giving men a sponge bath." Berry gritted her teeth and shook her head in disbelief.
The nurse then gave Berry a deadly look and turned in a huff to walk out the door without saying a word. Shortly afterward, the attending physician innocently walked into the room and approached Randy's bed. The doctor introduced herself to Randy's visitors and began to attempt to show how well Randy was being taken care of when she began to find out her patient was not being given his prescribed medications or even had his bandages or bedding changed. Berry brought up the issue with the loud TV and the sitter. The doctor replied that the sitter was there merely to watch the other patient and had nothing at all to do with Randy. Finally, the doctor said she would go and talk with nurse and negotiate some better care for Randy. Berry revealed that she was Randy's lawyer and she would like to go with the doctor and talk with both her and the nurse. As Berry and the doctor left the room, the sitter piped up, "She agitated," said the sitter, pointing at Berry.
"Dear…" said the lawyer calmly, "I am not agitated. You never want to see me agitated."

Berry and the doctor found the young nurse sitting at the nurses station, sipping on a diet soft drink and writing notes in a patient's chart. When the doctor inquired as to why Randy was not getting any attention other than periodic blood pressure and temperature checks, the nurse responded she was applying behavior modification towards Randy. The nurse was trying to show him that he needed to show a lot more attention towards the nurses’ aide who was the sitter, or he would not get any medication or attention from the nurse. The nurse, very much sounding like she was still in high school, further stated how nice it would be for the sitter to show off someone like blond, blue-eyed Randy to her church as her new boyfriend. The doctor's jaw slowly dropped open in astonishment and Berry noticed an expression of fear come over the physician's face, much like the fear of an impending malpractice suit. The doctor shot a quick glance over towards Berry's face to try to catch her response, but the lawyer's face assumed a stoic, poker expression. After the nurse had finished speaking, Berry announced that she was Randy's lawyer, which further jolted the doctor and Berry the lawyer quietly informed the nurse and the doctor that her client was in the hospital as a patient, not as an escort. The nurse and the doctor now also found that trying to speak with Berry was like trying to have a conversation with an artillery barrage. Berry informed the two that her client's medical treatment was non-negotiable and that his treatment was not dependant on how much he responded to the fantasies of the staff. She further demanded an immediate improvement in Randy's treatment and an increase in the level professional behavior on the part of the staff…meaning no blaring TVs and a respect for Randy's privacy.

The nurse was unimpressed and the doctor was now biting her lower lip. The doctor led Berry away from the nurse’s station and quietly assured Berry that she would make a few phone calls and everything would be straightened out right away. Back in Randy's room, while Beef, Tony and Bobbi were trying to chat with Randy, the other patient in the room began to talk louder and louder, mostly to himself, since he was being ignored by the sitter who munched on her chips and watched music videos. The sitter and the patient she was supposed to be watching were having a conversation with each other, though neither was listening to what the other was saying. The sitter was jabbering on about what she thought was wrong with the other members of her church. The patient with the palsy condition was doing a wandering monologue about how tragic and sad his life was, how a terrible football injury led to his palsy, if it weren't for some wealthy relatives paying his rent and giving him money his life would be even worse and how nobody cared what happened to him. His dialogue would be interspersed with his desire to walk around outside for awhile and his need for another dosage of drugs.
"Good everlovin' grief," complained Beef Matson, "Is it always like this?"
"Sometimes it's worse," noted Randy, "When that sitter woman has her friends come in to visit with her, it's like some sort of party."
"I guess you have to feel sorry for that disabled guy," observed Tony, "Getting hurt like that in some football accident."
"That's not really the case…" corrected Randy, "I heard the nurses talking. It's more like the guy was really into drugs and overdosing. His brain injury has something to do with him getting really stoned and driving into a utility post or something. The nurses think the reason he keeps wanting to go outside for a walk is so he can get his hands on some street drugs. He'll even start slapping and punching the staff when they try to prevent him from leaving."
"You know, that guy's voice sounds familiar," said Beef with a puzzled look on his face. "You didn't happened to hear what his name is…did you?"
"The nurses call him Norman," replied Randy.
"Ahhh…” said Beef rising from his chair, "My memory has just been jogged."
The detective strolled around the curtain towards the bed of the other patient.
"Norman…Norman Treptoe…" announced Beef, "I thought it sounded like you."
The patient who was sitting on the side of his bed immediately became silent and flashed a startled look at Beef Matson. "Beef Matson!" he said quietly with alarm.
Matson put his hands on his hips. "Well, well…" said the detective shaking his head in a negative way, "So this is what you've done with your life."
The patient slid back into his bed, muttering a little sound. "Erp!"
"You used to be quite a nuisance for some of my clients, when you would try to peddle drugs in their bars," related Beef.
"Erp!" muttered the patient again.
"And then when you were stoned you could be a really unpleasant character and you'd like to pick fights with people. I seem to remember once to avoid being arrested you ran out of a bar and ended up on the hood of someone's car."
"Erp!" said the patient again as he push up against the pillow on his bed.
"Football…" said Beef, "I bet there wasn't a football injury. In fact, I bet you've never played football in your life."
Norman smiled a silly smile and shook his head in agreement with the detective.
"Norman," said Beef folding his arms in front of him in an authoritative pose, "My employee happens to be in the next bed, so my simple request is that you lighten up and allow him some peace and quiet so he can rest. My tolerance for your behavior got worn out years ago. With everything I know about you I don't think you would want me to go and complain about you so why don't you just ease up a bit and relax. I think that would do you a world of good, too. You o.k. with that?"
Norman shook his in a quick nod of agreement.

Beef returned to Randy's bedside looking pleased with himself. The noisy patient remained subdued for a while. Berry Starr returned from her visit with the doctor also with a pleased look on her face. The young blond nurse returned to the room to chat with the sitter while flashing dagger like glances towards Berry and the others around Randy's bed. Then a woman who turned out to be a nursing supervisor poked her head into the room to quietly watch the nurse and the sitter engaged in conversation. Then she interrupted the conversation and asked to speak with the nurse and the two left the room. Shortly afterward, another supervisor showed up in the room, surprising the sitter who was still watching her music videos with her feet propped up on a bed. The supervisor had brought another nurses aide with her and the sitter was sent to another duty. Next, Norman the noisy patient asked the new sitter if she could find him a Bible to read, that reading the Bible would make him so much more comfortable. As soon as the sitter left on her quest to find a Bible, Norman took advantage of his trickery to sneak out of the room. A few minutes later, Norman returned with an escort of security guards, one of who had a bloody nose. Norman had made his way to the ground floor and promptly picked a fight with the guards. The guard with the bloody nose insisted that either Norman be restrained or given some medication to calm him down. A call was put in to Norman's attending physician who prescribed a sedative for him. Soon the sedative, along of the effects of not sleeping for a couple of days because Norman had been overmedicated on a number of substances, caused Norman to rapidly fall into a deep sleep, becoming the quietest person in the hospital. Finally, another nurse showed up in the room, saying that she was taking over nursing responsibilities for the room. She gave Randy his medication and soon housekeeping showed up to change Randy's bedding. Assured that Randy would be getting the proper care, Beef and company left when the nurse arrived to change Randy's bandages.

Randy was in the hospital for another day. His boss arrived to take him home. Beef Matson even offered to give Randy a couple of days off, but his assistant told him he would feel a lot better by being back at the office. His adventure at the hospital had left Randy tired and he was very happy to be back in his little apartment. After Beef had dropped him off the first thing Randy did was to crawl into his bed for a nap. Randy had found it difficult to get much sleep in the noisy hospital and the lack of sleep was catching up with him. He managed to kick off his shoes and get undressed but fell into a sleep even before he pulled the blanket over him. Randy lay sprawled on the bed in his cool bedroom; sound asleep with the blanket only covering his legs below his knees. Slowly, by itself, the blanket moved up over Randy, until it covered him, from his shoulders on down.

Click on image to see animated version, courtesy of Josh, in the United Kingdom.

*********

Gloria was giving her morning briefing to her team. She informed them that while the district attorney's office back in Illinois had decided not to file charges against Randy Hardwicke, her boss had decided that their project would still go on. There was still a civil suit against Randy and the boss felt that if they kept applying pressure, the young man might just yet snap and do something which might be embarrassing and incriminate him. There would be a further campaign in the media against Randy Hardwicke and it was even arranged to have anti Beef Matson-Randy Hardwicke jokes in Jay Leno's monologues. Gloria revealed that she still had more unpleasantness planned for Beef Matson's assistant. She felt that the process would be similar to when an animal is subjected to prolonged stress it begins to exhibit self destructive behavior, like a parrot plucking its own feathers out or a bear continually pacing back and forth when placed in a cage that's too small, eventually a human would also become self destructive when subjected to similar stress. "Believe me," advised Gloria, "If you place a person under enough pressure for a long enough period of time, they will become very self destructive." Then fingers could be pointed at Randy Hardwicke and charges could be filed.

One of the other women asked if their project had anything to do with Randy's attack. Gloria denied that anyone connected with their project had anything to do with the attack, though she felt that since Randy was a homosexual and a child molester, that it would only be natural for people to want to hurt him. She cautioned her two team members about feeling any sympathy for Randy. "A person's physical body means nothing to our Lord, so what ever violent thing that happens to person for the purpose of advancing our Lord's cause can be excused," she preached. "Since we are doing the Lord's work, if anyone were to meet with violence or harm, even because of our work, we should not be upset with it, we should regard it as a thing of beauty. Much like AIDS is beautiful because it gets rid of those who are undesirable. If someone becomes so enraged by Mr. Hardwicke's behavior and take it upon themselves to make an example of him, even through violence, I think we should actually thank God for letting us be a part of that process."

*********
"Didn't your mother ever warn you about playing with sharp objects?"

After taking Randy home from the hospital, Beef went straight to his office intending to spend the afternoon there. Beef turned on the Christmas lights in the outer office the he and Randy had strung. Leaving the door to his office open and with just the light from a brass lamp on his desk on, the lights from the holiday decorations added a warm glow to his office. Matson sat at his desk going over documents and making notes to himself. Suddenly there was a short staccato knock on the outer office door and the jiggling of the doorknob. Beef leaned to one side to catch a view of the visitor as the door opened. The short, dark haired man who peered around the door was Tony, from Just Desserts. Tony had problem that he wanted Beef to help him with. Not the usual kind of problem the detective normally handled, but an urgent problem just the same. Tony needed a birthday cake delivered. The baker explained that his deliveryman was out sick and he was short handed as it was and his staff was busy with other projects. The cake had to be delivered to a bar for a surprise birthday party. The cake needed to be delivered soon, before the birthday boy arrived.

Matson laughed at the predicament and agreed to deliver the cake for Tony. He joked that compared to some of this other assignments, the delivery would be a "piece of cake". The detective locked up his office and headed down to Just Desserts with Tony. The large, flat cake was carefully boxed for the trip. The cake had lots of butter cream frosting and someone had artistically rendered the image of a bodybuilder with the words, Happy Birthday Brad, on top. Tony was as nervous as ever and placing the box in Matson's arms and escorting him out of the bakery through the lobby and to the street. Tony promised the detective that he could have a nice cream filled coffee cake when he got back from the delivery. Beef smiled at the flustered baker as Tony ran back into the building. The tavern the cake needed to be delivered to was just a few blocks away and Beef could make it there in no time with just a brisk walk. The clouds had cleared away and the afternoon winter sun was casting long shadows.

A young man and woman sat in a car a short ways away, watching the entrance to the Harvey Milk professional building. The young woman had short-cropped hair and was dressed in a khaki colored t-shirt and jeans and the young man was also dressed in jeans with a long sleeve black shirt with shiny buttons on the front. The car alarm of the vehicle they were in began sound with intermittent honks of the car horn. "Will you stop playing with the alarm," complained the young woman, "We shouldn't be drawing attention to ourselves."
"Whatever…" said the young man, "I'm bored."
The woman gave her male companion an irritated look and turned her gaze towards the front of the Harvey Milk professional building. She turned back again to look at her companion. He was holding a hand up in a particular gesture.
"What in the hell are you doing?" she asked.
"Giving faggots the finger," he explained.
"Just chill out and try being just a little mature," she instructed.
"Thought we were here to give the fags a hard time."
"Sitting there giving passers by the finger is not…you just look stupid."
The young woman looked back towards the building. Suddenly she jerked up in her seat. "Look, look…" she exclaimed, "There he is…that's that Matson detective guy."
"Where…?” asked her companion.
“Over…there!" the woman responded angrily, deliberately pointing towards Beef Matson. "The dark haired guy carrying a big box."
"Oh…yeah."
"You remember what we're supposed to do…don't you?"
"Yeah, I know…don't worry."
"Come on, let's go," said the woman, "We'll keep a distance behind him. I'll let you know when we should have our little confrontation."
The couple got out of their car and began to walk behind Beef, following him and keeping a discreet distance.

Beef turned a corner and was a half block away from his destination. He saw an employee of the bar apparently waiting for him outside the bar. The employee spotted him and started a fast trot towards the detective. Beef recognized the employee but it took him a few seconds to recall the man's name. "You're the man," said the employee walking up to Matson and then walking with him to the bar. "Tony called to say that you were bringing the cake…" the man continued, "You're really saving the day, our guest of honor is about to arrive any minute."
"No problem…Stuart," Beef remembered the man's name, "Just your friendly neighborhood hero at your service." Stuart chuckled and the two continued walking towards the bar. The couple that was following Beef quickened their pace and closed in the unsuspecting detective, they caught up with him as Beef and Stuart neared the entrance of the bar. The young woman walked quickly ahead of Beef and then turned around and walked back towards Matson. She walked towards Beef and staring directly into his eyes, deliberately walked into him, sideswiping him as she clipped by. The detective grasped firmly onto the boxed cake, protecting it.
"Whoa…careful there," said Beef.
The woman turned and shot an arrogant look towards Beef and Stuart. "Obviously, you don't like to watch where you're going."
Matson and Stuart flashed puzzled looks at each other. "She seems to have some sort of issue," mumbled Stuart. The detective and Stuart continued to walk towards the bar entrance. The young couple then quickly walked ahead to the bar entrance where they stopped instead of going in.
"I don't know if we should go in here…" said the woman loudly, "looks kind of faggy to me." Beef Matson turned and gave a cautioning expression to Stuart. The couple turned away from the bar entrance and walked back to the detective. This time the couple was holding hands and the young woman was attempting a seductive walk, not too successfully in her khaki t-shirt and jeans. Matson had an impassive expression on his face as the woman approached him; clearly she was determined to have a confrontation. Again, the woman body slammed into Beef as he guarded the cake he was carrying and kept it out of harm's way.
"You bumped into me again," accused the woman, "You must have some sort of issue about women." Beef Matson did not respond to the woman and she spoke again. "Let's go back and look at this bar they're going into." She grabbed her male companion's hand and walked back towards Beef. "Yeah, I guess it is a fag bar…that's where these two fruity toots are going," she announced loudly. The woman began to passionately embrace her male partner blocking Beef's path into the bar. Matson attempted to ignore the couple and make his way around them into the bar. "What's the matter, don't you like women," she taunted, "Must be a fag…but if he really knew how to act like one, he'd prance around for us like that Jack on 'Will and Grace'. That's the way a fag should act, like a prancing and screaming Jack. Scream for us, gay boy." The couple kept blocking the detective's path.
"Would you do me a favor," asked Beef, turning towards Stuart, "and take this cake in for me? It would be a shame to bring it all this way and have something happen to it." Stuart grabbed the box from Beef and safely took it into the bar, ignored by the couple. The detective attempted to sidestep the couple, engaged in a contrived groping of each other. "Excuse me," said Beef, "I didn't realize this was national silliness week."
"It's obvious you hate women, gay boy," said the young women.
"On the contrary," responded Beef, "I'm quite fond of my mother and grandmother. My grandmother Candi, was quite the remarkable woman."
By this time, patrons and employees of the tavern, alerted by Stuart, were coming out of the front door of the establishment, standing by the entrance and watching.
"You know what would turn me on…" said the young woman, fondling her male companion while directing her speech to Beef, "forcing you to have sex with a woman, while I watch."
The private detective glanced over the young woman, her short hair and khaki t-shirt. "You weren't part of military security at some Iraqi prison, were you?" he quipped and pushed his way past the woman.
"He hurt me…" screamed the woman, "he hates women and he hurt me!"
"Gawd, what is this…" asked one of the observing bar patrons, "Jerry Springer street theater?"
The woman continued to scream. "He hurt me!"
"Get a life," muttered Beef with distain.
"Trash the bastard!" the young woman commanded her male companion who quickly stepped in front of the detective.
"Well gay boy…" said the dark haired young male, "So you like to rough up women. Let's see how you like being roughed up."
Matson shook his head and gave the young man a dismissing look. "Looks like this puppy has not been properly socialized," he commented. The young man removed a small leather pouch from a shirt pocket. Quickly, the pouch revealed a knife, which the young man pointed threateningly at Matson. "Oh wonderful…” said Beef, "The puppy has fangs."
"Listen pretty boy…" snarled the young man, moving closer to Beef and pointing the shiny blade towards him, "you're not going to look very pretty after I do a little surgery on your face." The small audience at the tavern entrance gasped. The young man moved closer to Beef, swinging the blade menacingly.
"Didn't your mother ever warn you about playing with sharp objects?" asked Beef. The young man merely grinned and swung the blade at Beef a couple of times, who calmly but diligently moved out of its way. Still grinning, the man moved in closer, the knife blade inches from Beef's body. Suddenly, striking like a rattlesnake, Matson greeted the young man with a short, quick punch to the face, his other hand chopping on the man's forearm, which held the knife. The young man muttered a grunt and the knife fell to the sidewalk with Matson quickly retrieving it. His assailant was attempting to shake off the effects of the punch and moved forward towards Beef. The detective stood before the young man and gave him another lightning fast punch to the face. The man moved backwards a few clumsy baby steps and attempted to say something but his words were unintelligible. Beef then quickly grabbed the young man and swung him around. Suddenly the young man found that he was now effectively under Beef's control, Matson had his arms pinned behind him, his face was hurting and worse, the detective was sliding his own knife across his chest. "Here's an example of why it's dangerous to be carrying around sharp objects, young man," said Beef Matson. The detective then slid the blade down the young man's black shirt, and the shiny silver buttons on the front of the shirt fell off and bounced on the sidewalk like so many marbles.
"This is my best shirt," protested the young man.
"Tear him up!" yelled his female companion, "Rip him up!"
"I can't," replied the young man with a whining frustration in his voice.
"You wuss…" complained the young woman who then turned to the small crowd by the door, "You know what…he can't get off on sex unless there's another man involved."
"My gawd," repeated one of the bar patrons, "This is Jerry Springer street theater."
Beef politely asked for someone in the crowd to put in a call to the police. A woman walking down the street with a soft drink in her hand was attracted by the commotion and stopped and asked the young woman what the trouble was. The young woman replied that she had been attacked by the woman hating Beef Matson. A groan of disapproval went up from the crowd. The woman with the soft drink seemed to be on the verge of agreeing with the young woman then she started to study the young woman's face. Suddenly she threw the contents of the cup at the young woman.
"What in the hell was that for?" screamed the young woman, cola dripping down her face.
"You may not remember me, but I sure remember you," replied the woman.
"Remember the club the other night? I was there with my girlfriends and I had a nice while silk blouse on and just paid fifty dollars to have my hair done up. Then you came along and you decided you needed to have fun by pouring a drink over my head. You didn't give a reason except I think you called me a lezzie."
The young woman paused a second and then called the other woman a bitch and hit the bottom of soft drink cup sending the remaining ice cubes and liquid jumping out at the woman.
"Maybe I poured the drink on you to show you that you and your friends are just pathetic jokes," retorted the young woman, "I have sex with men. That means I'm normal and if freaks like you have any purpose…it's to serve normal women like me…bitch!"
"What a great high school mentality you have there, girl," replied the other woman.
"This is just so like Jerry Springer…" quipped the bar patron.
Soft drink dripping from her hair, the young woman angrily continued, directing her rant at the crowd. "I'm on the winning side…I'm not into this gay crap, anyone who is…is a loser." The young woman attempted to engage the crowd in a chant, "George Bush…USA!…USA!" and was met with a resounding silence. The woman then paused for a few seconds and abruptly decided to leave, abandoning her companion and quickly trotting down the street.
Meanwhile, the young man seemed to be having a change of heart. He kept apologizing to Beef Matson, almost in tears. "I'm sorry, man. I'm really sorry," he pleaded, "I'm a idiot. I'm just an idiot." As Matson waited for the police to arrive, he noticed that the young man was not resisting and in fact now seemed to be nuzzling against him, as if he were enjoying the detective's restraint.

A short distance away the young woman met with a man holding a video camera. "Did you get it on tape?" she asked.
"Yeah…got the whole thing," replied the man, "I was just on the other side of the street, nobody even noticed me. Sorry about your boyfriend…looks like he's going to be hauled away by the police."
"He's not my boyfriend," countered the woman, "he's just an idiot…no big loss there. Did you get a good shot of everything?"
"Oh, perfect," responded the photographer, "Just couldn't be better…perfect quality for a TV tabloid show. I'm afraid that Matson guy didn't react the way you thought he would…he actually comes across as being kind of heroic."
"You didn't pick up any conversation…did you?" asked the woman cautiously.
"No…" replied the paparazzi, "too far away. Just some yelling and too much street noise on top of it…but the video quality is excellent."
"Well, ah…" paused the woman, "Since Matson didn't react in the way I thought…maybe we should just trash the tape and try for another shoot."
"Sorry babe," said the photographer, "This is too much of a great tape. All you did was let me know about the set up, I didn't get any money from you…so the tape's mine. Matson's in the news right now. The tabloid shows will pay good money for this shoot, regardless if that homo private snooper comes across in a good or bad light. They'll just want footage of the confrontation."
"Wait a minute," interrupted the woman, "I…”
"You…nothing," snapped the photographer, "Your little street drama occurred in public, on the street and I was there with my camera. All I care is how much money this shoot will put in my pocket. If you're going to try something else sweetie, let me know. I'll be there again with my camera. But this tape is gold and it is good as sold…just get used to the idea that you'll be seeing it on the television. My suggestion is that you get back to your people and see if they can't put the spin they want on the tape once it's aired."
The photographer spun around on his heels and quickly walked away. "Whatever…" muttered the young woman and walked away in the other direction.

*********
"…I may be able to help you out with that problem too."

Sharon Ledbauer sat in a bar in the town in Illinois where Randy grew up. She was sitting alone, nursing a drink and staring off into nothingness while a jukebox gently wailed some country western music in the background. The bar was mostly deserted except for one table of chattering people and a clump of patrons at one end of the bar that were engaging the bartender in conversation. Sharon did not at first notice the woman who came in the bar and sat near her. The woman tried to engage Sharon in conversation.
"I'm just checking things out in the neighborhood. I'm thinking I might just like to move up here. Might be a better place to live…being so close to Chicago and all," said the woman.
Sharon cheerily welcomed the conversation. She looked over the woman. The woman was a bit on the husky side, homely, seemed to be a little naive and had a bit of a farm girl nature about her.
"You from downstate?" asked Sharon.
"Yes…" replied the woman, "How'd ya know?"
"Oh, just a lucky guess," replied Sharon, "You mentioned you were checking out Chicago…looking for a place to live."
The two women engaged in conversation for a while. The woman introduced herself as C.D., Sharon thought this was typical; so many people from rural areas further south like to be called by initials. The woman explained how she was tired of living in a small town and wanted to move to the Chicago metropolitan area because there was so much more going on. Since the woman's father had died a few months earlier, she had been making trips up north to check out places to live and job prospects. Further questioning by Sharon revealed that C.D. had been left a house by her father.
"Oh, it's a nice house," remarked C.D. "Daddy didn't pay very much for it at all when he bought it years ago. Now it's worth a whole lot more money."
"Why don't you just sell the house and move up here?" inquired Sharon.
C.D. explained that her elderly stepmother lived in the house and according to the will; she couldn't sell the house until her step mom died. C.D. further explained that she and her stepmother did not get along very well. This was another reason C.D. was looking to move to Chicago, to get away from her step mother.
"At least I can go to work and live somewhere else until my step mom passes on," said C.D. innocently. "Then maybe someday I can sell the house." C.D. also revealed that there was other property involved as well that couldn't be sold until her stepmother died. "Someday I might be living very comfortably," giggled C.D. "but not now. That's why I need to find a job."
"Well, since your step mother's kind of old, maybe she doesn't have that much time left," observed Sharon.
"Oh…step mom’s got the constitution of an ox." C.D. shook her head and giggled, "I think 'cause she's so mean she scares sickness away. She'll be around for a long time."
"That's not always the case," said Sharon, developing a sudden interest in the simple, naive woman. Sharon chatted a bit more with C.D., advising her that the local area would be a good one for C.D. to relocate to. She bought C.D. a drink and told her that since her husband had recently passed away, she would had the time to help C.D. out with relocating. The woman from down state was genuinely pleased with Sharon's offer of help and agreed to prolong her stay for a while longer instead of returning home to her stepmother. "You know," said Sharon, tapping her chin with one of her fingers, "thinking about your stepmother…I may be able to help you out with that problem too."

*********

What would normally be a festive time of year for Randy was now just devoted to the task of packing his belongings getting them ready to be moved either to a new apartment or into storage. One wall of his living room was lined with cardboard boxes, which he was gradually using to box his possessions. Randy was recovering very quickly from his attack. His headaches suddenly disappearing and the cut on his shoulder was rapidly healing. However, the young man's emotional state was in an insidious decline. Every time he walked on the street, he wondered if people were talking about him or even, perhaps if he would be attacked again. Randy began to totally neglect his social life, politely refusing invitations to parties or even to go clubbing with friends. Randy's mind moved into a defensive mode, just concentrating on his job and the project of moving out of his apartment. Randy felt very strongly that the only person he could rely upon was himself, something imprinted upon him during the days he lived with Sharon. Sharon and her family let Randy know in no uncertain terms that he should not ask anything of them and they would never do anything for him, that Randy was not deserving of anyone's help. Randy concentrated strongly on self-reliance, feeling that he could never expect help from anyone else.

Dismantling his apartment, however humble it was, filled Randy with great sadness yet the more he packed, the more relief he felt in that he would be ready for a move. The conflicting emotions left him with a background feeling of depression. Sometimes, in the midst of packing, the young man would stop and sit, staring blankly in the silence of his apartment. Randy was also having strange vivid dreams, which made rips in his depression. In the dreams, he would find himself in a crowded gay bar or a crowded party. His dreams were normally bland and uninteresting, but in these dreams cute young men would focus their interest on him, they would kiss and hug him and warn him about spending so much time alone. "You shouldn't be alone. You're too cute to be alone," the men would preach to him. In another dream, some guy crawled on top of Randy as he lay in his bed. As he woke up, he was convinced that somebody was lying on top of him; he could feel the weight. When he opened his eyes, no one of course, was there. Randy attributed these dreams to putting his social life on hold since he got back from Illinois. When his personal problems were out of the way, he could devote more time to socializing. What do dreams know about real life, he thought, dreams don't have to worry about being homeless.

In addition to the dreams more and more odd things were beginning to happen in Randy's apartment. Whenever Randy began to have quiet panics and slide into depression, something would happen to distract him. On one occasion, Randy heard a noise from his bathroom. Upon investigating, Randy found that the toilet paper roll was spinning wildly; a pile of paper lay on the floor. Another time as Randy sat on a kitchen chair fretting about his situation, the refrigerator door kept popping open. Once, depression sent Randy to his bed, where he sat for a while and decided to take a nap. In that nether world between sleep and being awake, Randy felt someone tickling him and he woke up laughing. Objects kept getting misplaced. Randy thought he must have forgotten he moved things while he packed boxes. The framed photos he had of himself and his old boyfriend back in Illinois kept moving. They would disappear from the shelf in the bedroom closet and reappear on the stand next to Randy's bed. Once, one of the photos made its way to the kitchen table. Randy could not remember moving the items. He attributed the dreams and the memory lapses to being hit on the head. He wondered if maybe he should make another visit to see a doctor.

Chapter 7 - Selective Moral Indignation

"What cha mean…jellybean?"

The phone was answered by a female voice mumbling and apparently chewing on something so Beef Matson could not make out what was being said. “You’re wearing levis?” asked the detective. The voice on the other end of the phone line gulped and replied, “No…no, I said this was Levy, I’m Sheila Levy…you know, like drove my Chevy to the levee and the levee was dry…”
“Ah…yeah,” responded Matson, “I’m trying to get in touch with Berry.”
“Oh…o.k. Just who should I say is calling?”
“You can tell her this is Beef, Beef Matson.”
“Beef Matson, the detective? Oh cool…I’ve heard all about you, man! This is great…I get to talk to a real live celebrity. I’m a houseguest of Berry and Bobbi’s. My girlfriend and I just got here from New York and we’re gonna spend the holidays here…you know, celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah and then head down to some friends in Pasadena for New Year’s and the Rose Parade.”
“Sounds great…”
“I think I might just take Bobbi back to New York with me. Man, that woman is a genius of the kitchen…she is just the all around Martha Stewart, ya know. Every time you turn around that woman is cooking up something fantastic in that kitchen of hers. And Bobbi and Berry have this great little custom for their houseguests. At bedtime, Bobbi fixes up this little plate for you…like fruit and cheese, or a sweet roll, or a sandwich…you know something to nosh on to hold you over till morning. A real cozy custom, man…like makes you feel part of the family.”
Matson heard Berry’s familiar voice in the background. “Who you trying to corrupt on the phone,” she said mockingly.
“It’s Beef Matson, that famous detective guy…”
Beef heard some rustling noise in the background and what sounded like someone getting swatted with a newspaper. He then heard Berry say, “Out of here you reprobate!” along with some giggling, then Berry’s voice came clearly over the phone.
“Hey Beef…” said Berry, clearly in a good mood, “What’s up?”
“Just wanted to touch bases with you regarding Randy’s case…sounds like you’ve got company.”
“Yeah,” replied Berry, “Shelia’s in from New York City with her girlfriend, they’ll be staying with us through Christmas. My mother’s back with us too. After our little attempted break-in…it’s probably a good thing to have a lot of people in the house, maybe the crowds will scare away those pesky burglars. It’s good to have our Ms. Levy around…she is a refreshing change from a lot of the…ah, er…anal-retentive dykes I know. It seems a lot of the lesbians I know…my gawd…are such slaves to conformity…militant conformists…it’s like all they want to do is sit at home and make sure their shirts are perfectly ironed and wrinkle free. They’re so worried that somebody’s gonna say a naughty word or look at a sexy picture, yet they could care less about protecting their rights. You know, they just want to sit at home in their houses way out in the ‘burbs, collect beanie babies and make like they’re cutesy-wutsey non-sexual beings. Like they want to be so politically correct, say the right thing, do the right thing. Like they’re gonna get their right wing Republican friends to just love them so.
“Like your friend Bessie,” suggested Beef,
“Oh no…” replied Berry, “they’re no way as near as bad as little miss co-dependant Bessie. Bessie took the advanced co-dependency classes. What makes Shelia nice is that she’s totally in the other direction. If there is a list out there of what is politically correct, Shelia ignores it. Plus mother and her really get along…of course mother isn’t quite sure who Shelia is…we have to keep reminding her who Shelia is.”
“How’s your mother doing?”
“Oh…about the same. Mother is on some medication, but the problem was not so much with her as it was with me. I had a chat with the doctor and he told me with Alzheimer’s, it was important not to demand an improvement from mother. It’s just a case of accepting her as she is for any given moment. I guess that was the thing that was distressing me the most…I wanted to fix mother, make her better and there’s no way I can do that. Maybe I wanted to make her into the mother that she never was…you know, all those years when she was bouncing off the walls. When I let go of all that and just accepted that this is mother the way she is now and that I can’t fix her, I can just help her and that there’s even a limit to how much I can help her…well…accepting things for what they are was a weight off my shoulders. I have little control of what may happen to mother in the future, but at least I can keep her safe now…and that’s probably all that really matters.”
“Well, the reason I’m calling…” continued the detective, “Is to make a request regarding Randy’s case.”
“What cha mean…jellybean?” asked Berry.
“You sound way too good for a late weekday afternoon,” commented Beef.
“Oh…well…” Berry paused, “Bobbi fixed up one of her exotic, hot holiday drinks for Sheila and her girlfriend. All I know is that it’s made with hot water, a lot of different spices and a whole lot of brandy. It smells pretty good, but I’m a coffee gal from way back. Bobbi always says I’m exactly like my father, I’m way too much the Ms. Sensible type, and she’s right, some days I get way too wound up. Anyway, Bobbi said that this was one of those days and I didn’t need another cup of coffee and she and Sheila got me to join them for a cup of hot whatever it was. You know…they were right. A cup of that hot holiday spirit gave me a completely different outlook on things. You know, it’s not bad being mellow. So what is it you would like me to do?”
“The thing is…” queried the detective, “I was wondering if you think you could try to delay the other side for awhile, that Rocky Ledbauer’s lawyer…you know, stonewall him. I’m having some research done back in Illinois and may be very close to a breakthrough that might just make the charges against Randy just go away.”
“Hmmm…” responded Berry thoughtfully, “I think I could do that for a little while, though not indefinitely, of course. You know, whenever I talk to that Rocky’s lawyer, I get the mental picture of some greasy haired reptilian little geek that still lives with his mother. I bet if I tell him that I’m negotiating with some wealthy gay people for money for an out of court settlement regarding Randy…I think I could string him along for awhile…like a crocodile following around a hunk of meat hanging from a string.”

*********
"You won’t need any money for this trip…money really won’t matter."

Much to his relief, things had calmed down in Randy’s apartment. Kitchen cabinet doors were no longer flying open by themselves, the closet door near the front entrance stayed closed and toilet paper rolls were no longer unraveling themselves. In addition, the framed photos of Randy and his old boyfriend stayed on the shelves in the bedroom closet, they were no longer suddenly appearing on the kitchen table or his nightstand. Randy decided to leave the photos on shelves. It gave him comfort to have them out where he could look at them. The photos would be the last things he would pack. Randy concluded that the opening of the doors were probably due to the settling of the old building or maybe due to micro earthquakes that were never reported in the news and possibly even due to his own activity as he hustled around the apartment packing things. He decided that he probably forgotten that he had moved the photo frames himself, and just kept forgetting…after all he had gotten a pretty nasty bump on the head. It also could be due to his emotional state, getting distracted by worrying about finding another place to live, and forgetting about having moved something. His boss, Beef Matson, had told him not to worry about another place to live. Some of Matson’s friends were lining up a place for Randy to move to. Yet, his boss could not give him any news if a new apartment had been obtained for him yet. The civil suit against Randy also seemed to be in limbo. Berry Starr told Randy that the case was at a temporary halt, some things needed to be worked out and she would let him know when the case was going to proceed. All Randy could do was keep packing boxes and hope for the best.

However, not everything in Randy’s apartment had quieted down. There was this thumping noise. It was like the sound of someone hitting a drum with their hand or sometimes quieter, like someone thumping plastic wrap tightly stretched over a bowl. At times the noise was louder, reminding Randy of the footsteps of monster in the movie Godzilla when Beef dragged Randy along to see the original Japanese version of the film at the Castro Theater. There was no rhythm to the thumping, it occurred randomly and didn’t seem to come from any direction. The thumping would start up for awhile, stop and then begin again. Randy again decided that it was possible that it was some building noise he just had never noticed before or perhaps some sort of micro earthquake and that moving from this building would be the end to all of these issues. Still, Randy found he some concern about these poltergeist like events and he felt he needed to ask someone about his concerns before he ran off to a doctor to get a post attack evaluation.

Upon arriving at the office in the morning, Randy found a note from Beef letting him know that his boss would be gone for most of the day. Matson had been disappearing a lot lately; Randy surmised he was out doing some snooping though his boss was being somewhat secretive about his activities. Randy went through a small batch of mail. Thankfully there was nothing addressed to him and no hate mail. The letters address to the agency were bills, other letters addressed to Lynn Gordon Matson, Beef’s formal name, were also bills and, outside of that, there were just a couple of letters addressed to Beef and the rest was advertising including the ubiquitous flyer-menus for several Chinese restaurants. There wasn’t much more to do so Randy decided to make a quick visit to Minerva’s Lotions and Potions. He’d ask Minerva about some of the strange goings on in his apartment, she if anyone, would probably be able to shed some light as to what was going on.

Arriving carrying a paper tray with two coffees and a bag of pastry Randy found Minerva quietly sitting in her shop and reading a book. Her two cats lazily looked up from independent slumbers and noticing it was Randy, settled back into their catnaps. Business was slow again and Minerva was appreciative of Randy’s company and his gift of coffee and a sweet roll. Randy told Minerva of the unexplained activity in his apartment. Was something going on, was it the effects of being hit over the head or was it simply nothing at all? Minerva told Matson’s assistant that she really wasn’t a person to answer his questions.
“Oh gosh…” replied Minerva, “I just wouldn’t be a person who could give you any advice about that. What you need is maybe a psychic or a sensitive. Or maybe one of those paranormal investigators. I’ve got the business cards of a few people who are in that area…but then again, since you’re moving…that might just take care of the whole situation.”
One of Minerva’s cats had climbed onto the counter and daintily sniffed at Minerva’s paper cup of coffee. It seemed to give a look of distain and then wandered away.
“Well, I thought because you deal in all of this…” the young, blond Randy motioned his arm around at the shop, “that you would, I guess, have an extra insight in the…ah…paranormal? And you tell fortunes with your board, too!”
“Oh…well,” Minerva laughed gently, “I guess you could say I’m just a purveyor of some of the tools used by some of those who know about that stuff. I’m pretty much on fringe of all that. Most of my merchandise is just fine gifts. A woman makes those elaborate dolls down in Simi Valley. Her husband was laid off and she started making those dolls to bring in some money. That business took off for her and now her and husband make their living by marketing those dolls. A lot of what I sell is unique; custom items like that, candles, lotions, wind chimes, charms, and whatever. As far as my board goes, I guess I’m just a good student. Some years ago I got to know some women who were sensitives and considered themselves to be genuine fortunetellers. They felt that if you could be in tune with the subtle forces of the universe, that you could tell what the direction of these forces were and be able to foretell events as a result. That people may influence or be affected by these forces and that some people may even cause eddys in the flow of the subtle forces. I was taught how to interpret these forces and what sort of materials are affected by these forces and in what way so that you may be able to come up with some physical object to interpret the flow. All I am is a good student and in that way, and after much trial and error, I came up with my board. The thing is, only the future can tell how accurate one of my board readings is.” Minerva laughed. “I should include a disclaimer with my readings…for entertainment purposes only.”

Since the events in Randy’s apartment seemed to be subsiding and since he would be moving soon, Minerva advised Randy that it would not be worth his while to investigate, that after all, the door openings and the like sounded pretty minor. In return for the coffee and sweet roll, Minerva offered to give Randy a reading with her board. Randy agreed and Minerva brought out the large board with the cup of little stone pieces. Randy shook the cup and gently let the pieces fall on the board. The stone pieces fell onto the board and moved about in jerky motions like being pulled about by a large magnet. Then the pieces stopped, having arranged themselves in a formation across the board. Minerva stared at the board without saying a word.
“You were right with the last reading you know…” said Randy, breaking the silence, “You said that someone might try to hurt me and…that’s exactly what happened…ouch!” Randy rubbed his head, smiling.
“Yes…well…ahh…” muttered Minerva, not smiling.
“Well, does it tell you anything?” inquired Randy.
“Well, it…the board suggests that you are going on a trip.” a sense of dread came over Minerva as she carefully interpreted the board. The pieces were pointed toward the part of the board that symbolized shadows, the other side…death.
”That’s the same as last time, a trip…” reminded Randy, “How ‘bout some money for this trip?”
“You won’t need any money for this trip…money really won’t matter.”
“That’s awesome,” added Randy, “So far so good…what else does it say?”
”Uhhh…well,” added Minerva hesitantly and then continued in monotone, “the board indicates a move, a change in your life…I guess that would be part of the trip. Oddly, this time, see where the pieces are arranged on the center symbols…that would indicate you are the focus of something…the matrix…of things that are…” Minerva tapped her finger on three shapes on the board, “in the past, the present and the future. I really don’t understand that…your readings always seem to be so complicated, Randy. The board also shows forces trying to protect you, that you will be put in a place where nothing can harm you. And this piece here…standing where it is, shows you being reunited with someone who was very close to you.”
“You know,” observed Randy, “That’s pretty much what my last reading was like… guess nothing has changed.”
“Can you think of anyone that you were close to that you might be meeting again soon…like for Christmas?”
“Hmmm…” pondered Randy, “The only person I was really close during the past few years was Brett…and it’s unlikely that I would ever run into him.”
“Well, never say never,” smiled Minerva, “you might just happen to run into him.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” said Randy vigorously shaking his head in the negative, “Brett died a couple of years ago.”
Minerva stiffened in her chair as if ice water were being poured down her back.

*********
"I guess it shows how people can have selective moral indignation about things."

Returning to the office, Randy found the place deserted, Beef had not returned so the assistant proceeded with his regular duties. It was a quiet day in the office and there were no calls on the voice mail and Randy then checked his email. There were a few spam related emails offering mortgage refinancing, prescription drugs, pyramid schemes and a link to a web site offering “bodacious grandmas with large breasts”. Randy selected the junk email and did a group delete without opening any of them. The two remaining emails had the same return address. Randy opened the two and read them. Supposedly the emails were written by a thirteen year old boy who claimed to admire Randy. In the next email, email stated how much the boy was turned on by Randy and how much he wanted to meet with Randy and wanted to set up a meeting with him where there was a possibility of intimacy. Randy shook his head negatively at the computer screen, smiled and forwarded the two emails to Beef.

When Beef arrived at the office a short time later, Randy told him about getting the emails. Beef seemed unimpressed and promptly went to look at the suspect emails on his computer. Beef called out from his office.
“These emails are total bullshit…” the detective exclaimed and called for Randy to come into his office. “The return addresses of these emails are phony…look at the source code here…the real sender is obviously trying to shield his real email address.” Beef revealed that he had also gotten similar emails, except that the sender pretended to be fourteen years old. “I guess whoever sent this thinks I like ‘em a bit older,” the detective laughed. “Just somebody trying to do a little fishing…and they think we’re the fish.”

Beef and Randy chatted for a while about the emails and who might be behind them and the detective recalled one of his earliest cases. “I just want you to know that other gay guys have had similar accusations thrown at them. That you’re not alone in facing stuff like this,” advised the private investigator. Beef told Randy the case involved a man that the detective knew personally. “Didn’t charge him very much because I was still building a reputation and he was a friend of mine plus I thought he had an intriguing mystery on his hands. He lived out around Concord or Walnut Creek at the time.”

Beef related how his client found himself to be under nearly constant surveillance by his neighbors, even to the point that some women in the neighborhood had taken to setting up lawn chairs on a lawn across the street from his house and would sit and observe his house. No one in the neighborhood would tell the man what was going on or if they had a problem with him. Finally the man asked Matson if he could try to find out what was going on. The investigator’s probing revealed that an elderly man in the neighborhood with the reputation as an eccentric and religious zealot was behind the neighborhood effort to keep an eye on his client. The elderly zealot had found out Beef’s client was gay and was stirring up the neighborhood women into a frenzy with rumors of orgies and drug use at the client’s house. In turn, the detective began to quietly observe the zealot’s activities and found the elderly man had a fondness for the teenaged boys of the neighborhood, following them down the street and often trying to preach to them. When Beef talked to a few of the boys, they described the old man as a creep who liked to stand too close and made their skin crawl. Matson then discovered that his client’s problems began when the old man began to show up at the client’s yard and wanting to chat. The client began to avoid the old man’s company and preaching and soon after that, the surveillance by the neighbors began. When Matson decided to stake out his client’s house, Beef found that the old man had a fascination with the house and the client as well. The elderly man would be sneaking up to the house sometimes an hour or so after dawn and attempt to sneak peeks through the windows. The man also seemed to have the schedule of Beef’s client’s comings and goings down pat. The old man would wait behind a dumpster in an alley and suddenly appear whenever the client would arrive or leave his house, determined to strike up a conversation. Amusingly, Beef observed some of the middle-aged women of the neighborhood balancing themselves on rocks and bushes outside the client’s windows secretly attempting to catch a glimpse of the fabled orgies. “It was like that old fart had caught up the entire neighborhood in mass silliness. Then I realized that my friend, my client…even though he was in his early thirties…looked a lot younger than he was. Plus he had this mild mannered demeanor. Then it dawned on me. If this guy had a thing for teenaged boys…he probably be attracted to the next best thing…my client. My client probably pissed the old man off by rejecting his attentions and the old guy probably decided to start the harassment as retribution.”
Matson then told how he did some digging and found that the old religious zealot had a record of accusations of molesting teenaged boys including a conviction. Matson passed this information onto the local police and suggested that they convince the neighborhood ladies to redirect they surveillance away from his client and perhaps towards the old man.

“Now here’s the strange part,” noted Beef, “I guess it shows how people can have selective moral indignation about things.” The detective related that after he had passed on his findings to the police, surveillance of his client stopped with the police informing the local ladies that their surveillance had passed into the realm of stalking. However, the ladies in the neighborhood, while they were very interested in protecting the neighborhood from Beef’s client, they lost interest when it appeared a threat might come instead from the old man. “The cop I talked to was pretty blunt,” recalled Matson, “The good ladies of the neighborhood were all gung ho about keeping an eye on things when they thought they might catch a glimpse of a bunch of good looking gay guys having an orgy. But when it came to the old guy, seems they already kind of knew about him and they just didn’t care that much about what he might be doing. The cop was convinced it was because the guy was old, ugly, bald with bad teeth and had a permanent sore on his forehead.”

*********
"things will have unfortunate results"

Gloria spent the morning in her office fielding phone calls from contributors and allies complaining about a video, which had shown up on TV news shows showing the gay private investigator Beef Matson subduing a young assailant. The complaints were that the video made Matson look heroic and the callers wanted to know if Gloria had anything to do with setting up the confrontation that the video showed. She assured the callers that the incident occurred outside of her coordination and without her approval. She reminded one caller that “things will have unfortunate results” if she was not given control and approval over them.

The phone rang again and Gloria began to advise the caller. “What are you worried about?” she asked the caller, “the police arrested your friend, not you. That was a most silly thing to do…having your boyfriend pull a knife on that Matson fellow…that’s certainly not what I would have advised. So he’s not your boyfriend, I don’t really care what he is. Just who came up with the idea for this confrontation and the idea to have it filmed? Oh…well, the general does seem to favor things with an action movie flair to it. I would personally do things differently, with more subtlety. Maybe causing someone to become sick…no one looks heroic when they are sick. What…? Well, if the police question you about it, just deny anything your companion might have told them. It is his word against yours, after all. There are witnesses? Well then, just say it’s a misunderstanding. Jail time? Well, I suppose it could always come to that. You could always get pregnant…mothers to be always get a lot of sympathy. With who? I don’t care whom, doesn’t matter to me…just get pregnant. Well…ok then. Goodbye.”

"One should always consider the possibility that the cat he referred to had two legs…and perhaps the cat is not the one who did the jumping."

Gloria looked up. One of her teammates, Amber, was standing in the doorway of her office with a cup of tea Gloria had requested. The other woman had an expression of disapproval. Gloria was only slightly embarrassed by her phone conversation. “What a silly woman that was,” she explained, “Gets herself into such embarrassing situations and then wants my advice how to get out of them. Actually, having a child would do wonders to help calm her down a bit.” Gloria smiled sweetly at the other woman who placed the cup of tea on Gloria’s desk. The two women began to chat.
”That was terrible about Mr. Doolan. Did you see him when he stopped by the office this morning?”
“Yes, I did…” said Gloria with disdain.
“Those scratches on his face and I guess he hurt his leg because he’s walking with kind of a limp.”
“Yes, I saw,” replied Gloria with total disinterest.
“He said he tried petting some stray cat and the thing just jumped all over him.”
“Of course, in Mr. Doolan’s case, “ stated Gloria dryly and cynically, “One should always consider the possibility that the cat he referred to had two legs…and perhaps the cat is not the one who did the jumping.”
Gloria’s teammate disliked the remark but avoided making any comment in support of Larry Doolan. Amber found Larry to be dashing and fun to be around; it was a mystery to her why Gloria disliked her so. Gloria redirected their conversation to some of her current accomplishments in the Beef Matson project. She reported that she had made arrangements so that a pop group would soon make satirical music video critical of the gay private detective. “Have you ever heard of Eminem?” Gloria asked, “I believe it’s some woman singer…I think European…French, maybe. Yes, yes, that’s it…a blond French woman. Oh yes, she’s a very good singer.” Her office companion smiled a knowing smile and their conversation continued for a short while and the other woman then left Gloria’s office.

"Now Mr. Matson, I need to have you obey me."

Later, Gloria’s other teammate approached her office door and stopped. She could her Gloria’s voice from inside the office. “Now Mr. Matson, I need to have you obey me. You must do as I say. Why won’t you let me hurt you? I will be pleased when you are in pain.”
Suddenly, the teammate flung open Gloria’s office door. Gloria looked up from her desk, wide eyed.
“Heidi! Would you please have the courtesy to knock first…you startled me!”
“Oh, I’m sorry…” apologized the woman, smiling sweetly, “I just needed to ask you a question.”
Gloria had her file of Beef Matson on her desk; open wide. Plainly visible was a large color enlargement of the private detective, a photo taken at a beach with Beef Matson wearing only a speedo swim suit. Heidi excused herself, saying she could come back later and immediately left Gloria’s office, smiling a devilish smile as she closed the door behind her.

Gloria herded her two teammates, Heidi and Amber, into her office for one of her final lectures of the day. Chantay was left in the outer office, where the little girl sat on the floor using crayons to precociously draw pictures of elegant rooms in a fantasy castle on pad of drawing paper. Heidi and Amber both hoped that the lecture would be short. They were tired, hungry for supper and the end of the day found their boss in a crabby mood. The two women could only guess why Gloria was crabby, it could have been the critical phone calls Gloria received at the beginning of the day or it could have been Larry Doolan’s visit to the office that put her off. Gloria, for some reason, had a strong dislike of Larry. At times it appeared that there was something about one of her two office mates that Gloria disliked, though she would never say who or why. Sometimes Gloria’s disposition would sour after she had a conversation with her son. Her son, away at college, would no longer put up with his mother’s demanding calls and would often hang up on Gloria, infuriating her. Then at other times, Gloria would become very crabby for no apparent reason.

Sitting in Gloria’s office, Amber and Heidi would steal views out one of the windows in her office which offered bleak views of the brick wall of a commercial building across the street and the street itself, a lightly traveled side street. The occasional passing vehicle or blowing leaves seemed at times to be more interesting than Gloria’s diatribes. Regardless of whatever internal anger was irritating Gloria, she decided to redirect it in a scalding lecture critical of gay men and Randy Hardwicke in particular. Gloria reminded her teammates of the importance of their mission, and it would be because of her expertise that the project would succeed. It was only when people did not take her advice or put her in charge that there were problems. “The two of you think my job is so easy…”If either of you think you want my job, I want you to know…” Gloria accused, “it’s not easy…it’s a lot of work…a lot of hard work! And now that strange Bessie woman keeps calling me to go out and have coffee with her…and I have to keep thinking of ways to refuse her invitation without offending her…at least until this project is over. It’s phenomenal; I get the impression that she thinks I would find a fat, middle-aged lezzy attractive. Good Lord, that woman makes my skin crawl.”

Gloria confided in her teammates that when she, Gloria, strolled down a street in the gay Castro district she could feel the anger that all gay men had towards women. She felt these men did not give her the acknowledgement she deserved. She revealed how fearful she was that one of these gay men might suddenly attack her or expose himself to her. “Being gay is misogyny, just like being liberal is misogyny and not conforming to what society wants you to be is misogyny,” Gloria ranted. She revealed that back in Colorado Springs that men were constantly exposing themselves to her. With that comment, Amber discreetly bumped her shoe against Heidi’s and Heidi discreetly bumped back. Gloria continued, worrying how much worse this problem must be in San Francisco. The gay men here must be obsessed with terrorizing women. Homosexuals, Gloria stated, should be declared and registered as sexual offenders. “Besides,” said Gloria, bluntly and cynically, “Having a lot of gay men around just means another liberal voting block…and we certainly don’t want that.” Still Gloria continued. She expressed her concern that gay men needed to be converted to heterosexuality so that women would have the male companions they needed to succeed in life. Gloria felt that a woman trying to succeed or go through life on her own without a man’s support was unnatural. A normal woman knew she needed a man to fix her life and make everything perfect for her; there was absolutely no other way. She professed that all the success in her life was due to having a strong man at her side. This time, Heidi discreetly bumped Amber’s shoe and Amber bumped back.

She reminded her companions that God meant for women to be passive companions, and some women were much more passive than others. “It’s just a simple fact that some women,” she preached, “are merely passive vaginas and that’s really all they can be. They’re not going to be happy with a career…they can only obtain happiness through a man, romance…fashion and nice clothes. Labor unions are mysogynistic because they want women to make demands from companies for their well-being and support when they should really get that from men.” For that reason, it was so important to remind men that they are needed as strong, guiding companions for women. If men were allowed to be homosexuals, they would just go off and become successful and leaving so many women behind, alone, helpless and struggling.

Next, she tore into Randy Hardwicke. She was convinced that the homosexuality of Beef Matson’s assistant was based somehow in a hatred of his mother. She knew that the quiet, bookish types that this Randy reminded her of…all hated their mothers. Just like the men she had worked with who wouldn’t let her get close to them. Like her son when he sometimes became rebellious. Though she told Amber and Heidi that her son’s recently acquired independence was not a sign of anything serious; she had raised him too well for that. Plus, she had filled him with a healthy hatred of homosexuals. She had always told her son that if he even thought any man was looking at him the wrong way, it would be perfectly alright with her if he dealt with that individual in the most violent way. Gloria felt that if enough pressure was place on Randy, or if he could be put into therapy to cure his homosexuality, the young man would eventually be screaming how much he hated his mother. Finally, Gloria finished. Dumping the pile of steaming vitriol seemed to have appeased her internal demon and she arose from behind her desk pleased, relieved and in a much better mood. Heidi and Amber arose from their chairs, feeling somewhat stiff and even more tired.

"…ain't nobody gonna want to do no par-tay with you no more."

The group of women left the office and headed for their SUV, with Gloria at the lead walking down the sidewalk, Heidi and Amber behind her with little Chantay in tow. A shabby looking old man was standing in the parking lot next to a shopping cart filled with black plastic bags stuffed with belongings. He spied the procession of women. “Very pretty,” he said in a raspy voice, smiling weakly and nodding approval.
Gloria tried not to look at the man and shook her head. “Thank you,” she said matter of fact.
“Not you,” said the man loudly. Gloria stopped and looked at the old man with indignation. “The little girl…” corrected the man, “she’s the one I meant. The little sweet heart looks like a pretty little doll.” Chantay, dressed in her elegant blue velvet dress with a gold and lace trim smiled and treated the old man like one of her appreciative subjects and graced him with a princess-like curtsey. Gloria just shook her head in irritation and continued to walk towards the SUV. The old man caught Gloria’s disapproval and responded. “I just mean that even though your best days are behind you, you should have comfort in knowing that you got yourself a beautiful little granddaughter and two fine looking daughters.
“Excuse me…” replied Gloria shrilly, ”Excuse me…that’s not my granddaughter…these are not my daughters.”
“Well…I didn’t mean to ruffle no hen’s feathers…I just meant to compliment you on your pretty great granddaughter and granddaughters then.” Gloria flinched and her jaw dropped open. “This is not my great granddaughter and these women work for me…they are not my granddaughters. I am not even a grandmother. We’re just taking care of this girl.” Gloria gave the old man a homicidal look and gruffly turned back towards the SUV. “Ohh…why am I even talking to that…”
A bewildered, slightly angry look came over the derelict’s face. “You should know you done run your course…ain’t nobody gonna want to do no par-tay with you no more.”
Gloria grunted “Ack!” and complained to her two adult companions, “I don’t know why this country doesn’t open up some camps and just put the homeless in them.” Amber discreetly flashed a thumbs up sign to the old derelict, who with a slightly confused look, plodded back towards the shopping cart.

*********
"Oh yeah…you like to bite, don’t you…"

As Randy returned home from another day at the office, it was very much on his mind that his days at his current apartment were numbered. He would be living somewhere else next month…just where he didn’t know. He felt a great sense of loss about this apartment, even if it was in a trashed out old building. He had put so much work into renovating the little place and it was all for nothing. Beef was now determined to get Randy to move in with some friends of the detective’s until a new apartment could be found for Randy. Matson felt Randy would be much more safe that way, he could arrange for Randy to have a bedroom in someone’s house at least through New Years. Randy balked at the plan; he felt like he would be intruding by staying in someone else’s house, he would feel uncomfortable living with strangers. For Randy, it was just more practical to stay in his own apartment, he had already paid the rent for the month of December and he didn’t like the idea of his possessions being unprotected in a deserted apartment. At least he could celebrate another Christmas in his own apartment while he still had one. Randy also felt it was just the neighborhood, which was, not secure, not his apartment.

As Randy approached his apartment building, he saw a couple of people standing outside the building, a man and a woman. The man he recognized as the disabled man who lived on the first floor in his building. He did not recognize the middle-aged woman…at first. The couple were looking his way and obviously talking about him. Then, as he got closer, the woman turned to walk into the building looking back at Randy as she did. She shot a laser like glare at him along with the grinning smile of a lunatic. The woman’s face began to make a match in Randy’s mind with a photograph of woman he had seen in one of Beef Matson’s files. Randy approached the old man with a cane. As usual, the old man had a slight smell of booze and a strong unpleasant body odor so Randy tried not to get too close, or at least, not down wind. The man turned to greet Randy, putting his weight on his cane and dragging his bad leg as he turned.

Randy gave the man a pleasant greeting and asked who the woman was.
”That’s our new building manager,” replied the old man.
“Manager…we never had a manager before.”
“Well, we got one now. She got this job special. You know what…” the old man cupped a hand around his mouth as if someone nearby was listening, “She got sprung from a nursing home for this job. She had this drug addiction problem so she was in a nursing home till they got her unhooked. So she says she got clean and then some people came in and told her she’s gonna manage this here building. So I guess that was some pretty good rehab. She got a real different kind of name, too. It’s like Della, no…Dula…Dul…”
“Dulcinea,” said Randy, “It’s Dulcinea.”
“Yeah, that’s it…you know her?”
“No, just know of her. I hear she’s a little different as well.”
“Guess having a manager doesn’t matter to you…hear you got the boot. You gotta move.”
“Yeah, I got the boot.”
“Well, goes to show you…if you want to live in an apartment building, you got to behave yourself.”
Randy did not bother giving the old man a rebuttal; he just pleasantly dismissed himself and was glad to get away from the man’s odors.

The next morning at the office Randy informed Beef of the identity of his new building manager which greatly disturbed his boss.
“It’s Dulcinea,” said Randy, “I recognized her instantly from the photos of her in one of your files.”
“Randy…kid,” emphasized Beef, “This is not good…you do know why I ended up investigating her?”
“She was trying to poison her tenants.”
“You win first prize. She was poisoning her tenants. But not all of them…just the gay ones.”
”I read the file. Chemicals in the juice and kool-aid or something like that.”
“Specifically she like to spike kool-aid with anti-freeze and preferred insecticides for everything else.”
“I read in the file that you weren’t totally sure why…”
“Well, more than likely the woman is totally and completely nuts. Secondarily she had some drug use issues and she possibly thought that by putting people in the hospital or killing them off, she could grab whatever they had in their apartments and use it to buy drugs. She was already into identity theft and stolen food stamps. Additionally, she just doesn’t like gay folk…so she apparently decided that they were more expendable than the straights living in her building. I’m pretty sure somebody intervened on her behalf because the court decided that she needed to be put into some institution because of she was slightly passed middle age…and because she’s just out and out nuts. And now somebody gets here released? There’s got to be some extreme right wing freakazoid behind this bit of mischief. Randy…this settles it…you have got to get your tush out of that building.”
”Still…” countered Randy, “If she’s been released, then maybe she’s cured…she’s o.k.”
“Randy!” sputtered Beef, “What in the hell are you going to do? Hire food tasters to sample your food every time you get something from the refrigerator?”
“Well…I could eat out. I’m only going to be there less than a month.”
“Randy!” Beef glared at his assistant.
“Ok…ok,” surrendered Randy.
“I’m going to give my friends a call…” said Matson, “They’ve got this big old house, you’ll like it…you’ll have fun exploring it. I’ll put an additional lock on your apartment door to help secure it more, too.” The detective cocked his head and looked at Randy standing before him. His assistant had a flustered look and was biting his lip. “Don’t worry…” reassured Beef, “We’ll get you a new apartment…but what good is an apartment if you’re not around to enjoy it?”

Back at Randy’s building the old, disabled man who was a tenant on the first floor was returning after a long walk around the neighborhood. Often his walks were casual searches for drug dealers and sometimes, if he had the money, prostitutes. Nevertheless, he portrayed himself as a conservative “good old boy” who decried the presence of undesirables in the area, while he himself would seek out those same undesirables. The man had owned his own cleaning and handyman business until a fall from a ladder left him permanently disabled. Now he relied on disability payments and veterans’ benefits, yet this did not really bother him. He enjoyed not having to work and was satisfied with a simple lifestyle of a one room apartment, a collection of girlie magazines, hard booze, and, when he could afford it, street drugs and the occasional prostitute. It felt good…something like being a little boy that never grew up. The rundown building and neighborhood insured that his lifestyle would be protected until that Randy who moved into the apartment on the top floor moved in and started cleaning and fixing things up. Now that Randy had been evicted, the old man was happy, things would return to normal.

Yet, in spite of everything, there were some days that the old man would be very unhappy. Something would not go right and he would feel the little boy urge to break something or do something naughty. This was one of those days. Unlocking the lobby door and shuffling a few feet down the hallway, the old man unzipped himself and relieved himself on the hallway floor, smiling a devilish smile. Finished, he zipped himself up and then suddenly heard a voice behind him. It was Dulcinea.
”You just can’t leave that puddle there,” the woman said with her gruff voice.
The old man flinched, “I got a nervous bladder problem…I’ll get a bucket and cleaner and get it all wiped up.”
“What ya need cleaner for? Just get that mop from the basement room and wipe it up, you don’t need no cleaner. I just don’t understand those people who need to have everything so clean. We’ll get this place smelling like people live in it. Just when you go tinkle, make sure you wipe up the puddle, don’t want people slipping and trying to sue the owners.”
The old man smiled, he would like this new manager.

The afternoon found Dulcinea carrying a wooden stepladder in the basement hallway. She stopped, opened the ladder, slammed it on the floor with a bang and proceeded to climb onto it. She stopped momentarily and knocked very authoritatively on the wooden stepladder as if it were someone’s door. “This is the manager. Your rent’s past due…either I get your payment by this afternoon, or I’m starting eviction proceedings,” barked Dulcinea loudly and then cackled with laughter. She knocked again on the ladder with three sharp knocks. “That sounds much better…I’ll have to remember that knock. This is the manager! I heard you have someone living with you. Your lease is for only one person in your apartment. I have to come in and look around!” Dulcinea cackled loud laughter again, suddenly stopped and perched below a ceiling light fixture and reached out for it. She unscrewed the old ornate glass light fixture from its base over a ceiling light. Holding the fixture over the side of the ladder, she released her grip and let it fall to the floor. The milky white glass shattered with many pieces scattering in all directions over the tile floor. Dulcinea’s cackling laughter echoed through the basement hallway. “Oops!” she laughed, “That might help lower the tax assessment on the building a bit.” The focusing her attention on the light bulb, Dulcinea spoke again. “Let’s see if you want to play.” The woman deliberately put her hand on the blazing light bulb and held it there. “Oh yeah…you like to bite, don’t you…” Finally, when the pain became too great, Dulcinea pulled her hand quickly away, laughing. Then she moved the step ladder over to the next light fixture and had the same “accident” with the glass covering, it too shattering on the floor. Then reaching out to the light bulb, Dulcinea placed her hand on the bulb. “Let’s see what kind of bite you have. Oh, you want to bite me too, don’t you?” The woman giggled and pulled her hand away when the pain became too intense, giggling again. Suddenly, Dulcinea stopped her giggling. There was a noise behind her. She turned and stared out towards the end of the dimly lit hallway. “Who’s there?” she demanded. Who’s there…”

Returning home to his apartment building Randy again found the old disabled man standing outside the front door. The old man motioned to Randy. “Our new building manager didn’t last too long.”
“What do you mean, asked Randy, “I don’t understand?”
“I guess she wasn’t off the drugs after all.”
“I still don’t understand what you mean,” said Randy.
“Oh…the old bat just went crazy this afternoon.”
“What…?”
“She ran out of the building this afternoon. Got the whole neighborhood spooked up. Just totally crazy and screaming…running down the street. Good way for a woman her age to have a heart attack. She probably would be half way to Sausalito by now if the neighbors hadn’t grabbed her.”
“Why…Do you know why…Did something happen?”
“I guess she said her mother was chasing her around the basement, screaming at her to behave herself. Her dead mother…was right there in the basement with her and telling her how bad she was. More like that rehab she was in didn’t take. My guess is that she bought herself some pills on the street somewhere. I hear she won’t be coming back here any time soon. So we’re back to not having a manager again…no big deal, just like it was before. If you ask me…I knew she was buggy right from the start. I’m a good judge of people…I kin tell right away with the people I see on the street who’s off or not. I tell you right now I knew something was wrong with that Dulcinea woman right away…I could see it in her eyes.”
Randy shook his head as the old man waddled away. “I guess the problem solved itself,” he said to himself.

*********
"I promise to be true only to you, baby…"

Randy now found himself in limbo. After Dulcinea’s abrupt departure from his apartment building so she could be newly incarcerated in an institution, Beef agreed to let Randy stay in his apartment for the remainder of the month. His attorney, Berry had also told Randy that the civil suit against him was temporarily on hold. A good part of the young blonde’s possessions were packed so that part of moving was mostly taken care of. Randy left the humble display of Christmas decorations on his kitchen window stay up, at least lights helped cheer his now, much more sparse apartment. However, it was finding it difficult finding another apartment that Randy could afford. Again, his boss told him not to worry about that; some friends of Matson’s were at work finding an apartment for Randy. Still, Randy did not feel totally reassured…he would make a point of pestering Beef about the apartment issue.

This state of limbo, while nothing was moving forward, meant at least nothing bad was happening and brought Randy some much needed emotional relief. One early evening after supper found Randy sitting in his apartment, and slightly bored, he decided to look over a small box packed with audio CDs. He selected one CD, a compilation of classic disco music and popped into his stereo. Normally, Randy was hesitant about the volume of the stereo, but reasoning that he had already been served with an eviction notice, this time he would pump up the volume a little. As the first song on the CD, “Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel” by Tavares began to play; Randy took a sip from a glass of cola and began to gyrate a bit to the song. Then he began to get more into the song, throwing his hips from side to side and moving his head around so his blond hair shook about. The Christmas lights in his window sparkled and threw colored light on him, the music and light creating his own personal dance club. The music was giving Randy the first real joy he had felt in a month. The volume of the stereo suddenly turned up by itself. Randy didn’t bother to turn the volume back down; he just smiled and kept dancing. The ghosts in his apartment must like the music, he thought. If the goofy tenants in his building didn’t like the music, let them complain…he would be out of the building soon, anyway.

He began to dance more energetically, letting the music flow through his whole body, his inner self began to explode the shell of worry and anxiety that had formed around him. Randy turned off the one lamp in the living room and let the light from the Christmas decorations and the small light above the kitchen sink set the mood. The dance music engulfed the apartment overpowering it with a mood of optimism and energy. Each song reinvigorated the young male dancer and was acid to any feeling of depression; Randy began to feel empowered and happy. As he moved around, his pecs were outlined in his shirt, his butt strained against his jeans. Randy loved dancing…he felt the joy of his young dancing body, it felt like he was radiating a positive energy all around him…just like he felt in a dance club. Track after vintage track, “Don’t Hold Back”, “Boogie Wonderland”, "Turn the Beat Around”, “Love Sensation", played and Randy kept dancing, starting to feel better and better. He grabbed his shirt and yanked it out of his jeans and then quickly pulled it up and over his head. Holding the shirt in one hand over his head, he whirled it around in the air and then tossed it so it landed on a kitchen chair. He continued to dance around shirtless, in his jeans and white athletic shoes, his shiny torso covered in flecks of blond hair glistening in the sparkling lights.

The stereo began to play a song that Randy had forgotten was on the CD. It was “This Time Baby” by Jackie Moore. The song started out with a building instrumentation that gradually led to the vocal. The young man gradually began to slow the tempo of his dancing as the song threw his thoughts back years earlier to Illinois when he met his old boyfriend Brett.

This Time Baby by Jackie Moore

“I’ve got love on my mind, ain't no use in me wasting time…”

Randy recalled the little gay cocktail lounge where he and Brett had first met. This same song was playing in the bar. It was only by chance that Brett and Randy happened to be in the same bar on that night. Randy had tired of the dance bar he was in and decided to head home, and at the last minute decided to stop in at the cocktail lounge which was usually a friendly place. However, when Randy got there, it was only an hour before closing and the place was largely deserted. Randy got a beer and headed to the back of the bar to sit near the jukebox and the pool table. There he found Brett by himself, killing time by knocking balls into the pockets of the table. The very popular Brett normally was hanging with his friends, but on this night his group had split up and had to leave the bars early for various reasons leaving Brett on his own in the cocktail lounge.

Brett

Randy sat for a while, innocently watching Brett play pool. Then Brett looked up and asked Randy if he wanted to shoot a game with him. Randy agreed, though he was not a great player, he could still play a fair game. A short ways into the game, Randy bent over to set up his shot with Brett watching him from the other side of the table and the light from the lamp above the pool table shining onto Randy’s face. Brett then noticed suddenly how blue Randy’s eyes were, how golden his eyebrows were and just how good-looking this other man was.

“Oh baby you’re so fine…”

What was more, Randy looked even more handsome every time Brett looked at him. Why hadn’t he noticed this guy before, wondered Brett. Their game finished, Randy and Brett sat together in the nearly deserted bar engaged in idle chitchat, making inquiring questions about each other, with Brett mostly enjoying just looking at Randy. Brett suddenly paused their conversation. “Hold on a second…I’ve got to do something.” Brett then leaned over, held Randy briefly and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. “Sorry man,” he apologized, “I just really needed to do that.”
Momentarily taken by surprise, Randy answered, “Oh…that’s ok, that’s…er…that was nice. If it’s alright…can I do something now?“
“Sure.”
Randy put his arms around Brett and grabbed him closer and planted a firm kiss on Brett’s lips. Brett responded by passionately pushing himself into Randy.

“I’ve got you on my mind…”

The lone, handsome dark haired bartender stood a distance away behind the dimly lit bar watching the couple and looking at his watch. “I was wondering how long it would take those two to finally get together,” he muttered to himself, “Damned tortoises.”
Randy released Brett, saying, “Damn…you are so damned good-looking!”
“Me?” replied Brett, “Have you looked into a mirror lately?” Brett ran his hand through Randy’s hair and stroked his blond eyebrows. “Your blond hair, your eyes, man…you are just perfect, dude!”
The two men kept complimenting each other on their looks until finally Randy asked Brett, “Would you just put your arms around me and hold me for awhile…please?”
“Oh geez, Randy,” replied Brett very softly, “you don’t have to say please…that would be a pleasure.” Brett gently folded Randy’s arms into his chest and put his own arms around Randy, grabbing the hair on the back of Randy’s head, holding him close. He whispered into Randy’s ear. “This is wonderful…this is too wonderful. Holding you is just perfect.” They sat like that for awhile, rocking back and forth with Brett rubbing his head against Randy’s.

“You for me and me for you…”

Randy agreed to go home with Brett. “We don’t have to do anything,” said Brett honestly, “I just want to be with you…just cuddle.”
“Whatever,” smiled Randy.
The couple left bar arm in arm, as if they had been going together for years, thanking the bartender for his service and wishing him goodbye. Though he had just met the bartender for the first time earlier that night, Brett said with his usual confident air of familiarity, "Have a good night, Lynn".
“Have a good time, boys,” wished the bartender, smiling, “make sure you take care of that cute little blond guy!” Randy made a partial turn as he exited the bar wishing an additional goodbye towards the bar. As soon as the door closed behind Randy and Brett, the bartender said out loud, “Another perfect match made in our little bar,” and reached up with a pencil to tap a cocktail glass hanging above the bar, making a bell-like sound.

Brett lived in the rear small but cozy apartment of an house. Outside of taking a shower together to wash off the smoky smell of the bars, they did little else except cuddle in Brett’s small bed. Soon they were both asleep-kept company by a moonbeam shining in through the bedroom window. It was a cold night, but the two, wrapped around each other like a hand in a glove, kept each other warm under a blanket and a comforter. Randy and Brett spent the next three days as a couple, rarely parting company. On the fourth day, the two confirmed that they wanted to “keep dating”, though it was obviously more than that. Brett found just about anything Randy did entertaining, especially his quick wit and dry sense of humor. Along with finding Randy attractive, the other man made him laugh, made him happy and he totally enjoyed Randy’s company. Though Brett was known as a party boy and had a wandering eye for other men, Randy filled his needs completely, plus he began to feel very protective about Randy and a bit possessive as well. Randy was in awe that the very handsome and popular Brett found him attractive and wanted to be with him. Plus Brett had a perfect athlete’s body, which Brett loved to show off in private, and Randy was the most willing audience. Brett was very easy going, laughed easily, it took quite a bit to get him angry and he seemed to get along with just about anyone. Sleeping with each other was the most perfect pleasure, sometimes the two found it very difficult to let go of each other in the morning and get out of bed. Then one morning it happened. As Randy lay next to Brett, his arms and legs wrapped around him and nuzzling the back of his neck with his face, the words just happened to pop out of Randy’s mouth, “Oh Brett, I love you so much.” Suddenly, Brett bolted a bit and he flipped over and faced Randy.
“I love you too…I love you very much…very, very much.”
On that particular morning, it took the two a very long time to get out of bed.

“Loving you was so easy…”

Several days later, Brett took Randy out to a nice restaurant but instead of going to the bars afterward, Brett brought Randy directly home. He made Randy sit on the couch in his little living room and then kneeling on one knee in front of him, Brett asked Randy to marry him. Randy agreed.

“I promise to be true only to you, baby…”

It was indeed a match made in heaven. Randy was the yin to Brett’s yang. Randy was introspective, cautious and quiet. Brett was an extrovert, took chances and liked to party. Brett served the purpose of getting Randy to be more assertive and outgoing and Randy helped temper Brett’s reckless behavior and was determined to steer him away from trouble. For instance, there was Sheevey, a friend of Brett. Sheevy was a young black man, slightly effeminate with a slightly outrageous sense of humor. Sheevey was well liked by nearly every one at the bars and was usually referred to as being a sweet guy. Sheevey also thought Randy made a good partner for Brett and Randy liked Sheevey’s jokes and outrageous comments. However, Randy would notice some of the people Sheevey would hang with had a ‘gangsta’ flavor to them and then one night Randy saw Sheevey get into a terrible argument with the occupants of a car parked in a distant, unlit corner of a bar parking lot. Later Sheevey dismissed the encounter, snapping his fingers and assuming one of his poses, “Just some low lifes with attitude, dear…way too much attitude.” Randy told Brett about the incident and Brett revealed that Sheevey dealt in drugs and had spent some time in prison for a drug offense. The drug dealing alarmed Randy but Brett told him not to worry…a lot of people at the bar dealt in drugs; besides, Sheevey could take care of himself. Still Randy voiced his concern. Then a couple of weeks later, Sheevy went missing. A few weeks later Sheevey’s body was found in a sewer; he had been murdered. Brett was visibly shaken by the news about his friend and he became more open to his husband’s concerns.

“In and out of love, in and out, baby…”

A schism began to develop when Brett decided that small town Illinois was not the place for two young gay men to grow and prosper. He felt he and Randy should move to a big city with a large gay community, not nearby Chicago, but a large city in a warm climate, like Los Angeles or Miami. Brett had lived in Los Angeles briefly and knew some friends in West Hollywood. He was convinced that Los Angeles would be the perfect place for he and Randy. Randy, on the other hand, was terrified of such a move. Though his job at a small research firm only paid a couple of dollars above minimum wage, Randy’s life experience taught him to plan carefully, hold on to what he had and not take unnecessary chances. The couple began to play a game of tug of war with this bone of contention. Additionally, Brett was moved to a later shift at his job and even though both Randy and he were living mostly at Brett’s apartment, the two were seeing less and less of each other.

Then there was also the issue of Sharon Ledbauer. Randy was not aware of how Sharon and her family really felt about him, he had pushed all the bad memories of his teenaged years to the back of his mind and since there really wasn’t anyone else, he considered Sharon a close family member. Randy had even come out to her. Sharon was unimpressed; Randy’s “Aunt Marion” had told her that he was gay when Randy was a little boy. Randy even introduced Sharon to Brett, his new partner. Sharon, on the other hand viewed Randy differently. She had a difficult time relating to people in anything other than in a mercenary way. Outside of her immediate family, Sharon failed to form relationships with other people unless she thought she might get something of value out of them. After Sharon found out that Randy didn’t really inherit anything from the Hardwicke estate, she tolerated his association until she could think of a use for him. Finally, Sharon thought of a use. The culture of Sharon’s immediate family tended to use their offspring, especially the girls, as house servants. Advanced education for the kids was frowned upon, with their children often dropping out of high school. The main emphasis was to have the kids focus on doing chores and housework to make life easier for their parents. Once one of the female offspring reached legal age, she would be given an unceremonious bum’s rush to leave home, go out on her own and preferable start having children so granma would have someone to do her housework while she watched her “stories”. The only real option the young woman without much of an education would have would be to find a husband…and fast. This is how Sharon decided Randy could be used. Since a number of her nieces were reaching legal age, Randy could be used as a reserve husband for one of those girls.

“Oh…I used you a thousand times…”

In order to keep Randy in reserve, Sharon decided she needed to break up his relationship. When Randy told him that Brett wanted him to move to Los Angeles with him, Sharon told him that would be very dangerous. “How much do you really know about this guy?” On the other hand, Sharon encouraged Brett in his plan to move out west. She told him to be firm with Randy and demand that he should give in to what Brett wanted. Sharon knew that when she lived with Randy and would scream at him, Randy would become more and more introverted and retreat into his own world. As a result, when Brett would demand that Randy give in to him, Randy in return would be less and less responsive and Brett would become more and more assertive, even throwing things in frustration. When Randy reported Brett’s behavior to Sharon, she would tell Randy that this was a dangerous sign…that his partner would become more abusive and probably violent. A very big reason why Randy should not move to Los Angeles with Brett. Then, of course, Sharon would tell Brett that Randy’s behavior was merely a sign that he was way too introverted, neurotic and on top of that, she didn’t know why Randy was trying to have a relationship with him. Randy was really straight, after all, he had always made advances towards her when he was a teenager. It wasn’t until years later that Brett and Randy, individually, would realize how Sharon had played them.

“Always trying to blow your mind…"

Randy and Brett’s relationship developed a fracture and then it finally broke. Randy moved his belongings out of Brett’s apartment. Brett took up with an edgy sort of guy; quit his job and the two of them moved to Los Angeles. Randy stayed in his hometown and led a very uneventful existence; not meeting anyone new who came close to Brett or even stirred his curiosity. Almost a year later, he saw Brett in another local gay bar. It was a different Brett, he looked tired and lacked enthusiasm. When Randy spoke with him, Brett seemed very happy to see Randy again but looked at him with a wistful look and refused to pick up on Randy’s hints of reconciliation. He told Randy that the man he had moved to Los Angeles with turned out to be a heavy substance abuser, ended up being too wild for him and the two had parted company with Brett returning to Illinois. When their conversation ended, Brett seemed afraid to touch Randy, just giving him a gentle hug. Randy never saw Brett again. A few months later, Randy heard from a mutual friend that Brett had died…from AIDS.
Randy fell into a long spell of melancholy, he had suffered another great loss and any hope of having Brett back into his life was smashed. This loss tainted whatever feeling he had about his hometown and he decided to try to get as far away from it as possible and ultimately moved to San Francisco and became Beef Matson’s assistant.

“You for me and me for you…that’s the way it’s gonna be…”

As Randy continued to dance, he held out his arms in front of him and began to imagine he was holding Brett in his arms. He closed his eyes and could see Brett’s handsome face so clearly in his mind. Barely audible above the music, Randy spoke quietly, “Brett…I loved you…I loved you so much…I wish I had never let you go. Things would be so much better now if I had never let you go.”
How good it would be to dance with Brett one more time, to feel Brett’s warmth against him again…what a fantastic Christmas present that would be, thought Randy, if Brett were here with him, he could face everything, everything would be fixed, everything would be fine.

“Baby, you're my life, give me one more chance to prove my love. Baby, oh you're so fine, I promise to be true only to you… ”

Then suddenly Randy felt a tightness envelope his body, around his ribcage. He also felt a sensation like someone pulling the hair at the back of his head. The feeling wasn’t harsh; it was gentle. He felt something pushing against the side of his face and it also felt like something grabbing the belt loops in the back of his jeans. He also found that this force seemed to be trying to make him move in a certain way. Randy became alarmed, wondering about the blow he had gotten to the head…was he having a stroke? The sensation now seemed like a gentle rubbing, it felt like he was gently being swayed side to side, in rhythm to the music. It also felt like he was being lifted in the air. Indeed, though he was not aware of it, Randy’s feet were now a couple of inches off the floor and he hovered in the air gently swaying from side to side.

Behind Randy and unseen by him on his kitchen table, the little Christmas decorations were also dancing gleefully. The thumping sound Randy had been hearing in the apartment also began again; he could hear some of it above the sound of the music. Perhaps it was his head injury…maybe he was having a stroke. The pounding sounds advanced beyond Randy’s apartment, throughout the building, from the roof to the basement and outwards from the building through the neighborhood. For a few minutes in a block radius around Randy’s apartment building pounding could be heard, ranging from the sound of a hand beating on a drum to something sounding like the footsteps of Godzilla.

“You for me and me for you, that’s the way it’s gonna be! …This time baby, we won’t be in and out of love! I will be me for you and you for me!”

As the song began to fade on the stereo the sensations Randy felt began to fade as well and he suddenly yanked himself away and felt nothing. He stood for a while in his quiet apartment in the glow of the twinkling Christmas lights not knowing what to make of what he just experienced. He now felt fine. The thumping had gone away and all he could hear were ship horns and street noise from outside. Randy finally decided that it was a case of stress…the dancing had triggered its release. He had been under an awful lot of pressure. That’s what it was…stress.

*********
"But…but…that's murder."

Sharon Ledbauer once again welcomed C.D. into her house. A little girl was energetically running about the house. Sharon said her name was Misty, she was her stepson Rocky’s little girl and she was taking care of her for him. Sharon felt that she had convinced C.D. of her friendship and won the woman’s trust. The two women sitting at the kitchen table, Sharon once again inquired about the house C.D. shared with her stepmother. “You know,” informed Sharon, “I told my stepson Rocky about your house and he asked some of his real estate friends about it. They think your house and property is worth a whole lot of money.” Sharon decided that the time was right to share with this woman a little plan she had devised. This C.D. woman impressed Sharon as being a terribly naive and easily manipulated rural woman. Trying to be as sincere as possible, Sharon shared her plan with C.D.; a way the two women could help each other. Sharon told C.D. that after her husband had died, it was difficult for her to maintain the house and make house payment on the little house she owned with her husband. Sharon’s husband had been a construction worker and had been on disability the past few years. When he had died, Sharon was not left with much and though Rocky was helping her, it was still difficult. Her husband had been much older than she, so it was a shame that she would have to live this way when she still had a lot of her life ahead of her.

Sharon’s plan involved C.D. selling her house downstate. The money C.D. got from the sale of the house would be more than enough to buy a nice house nearby and for CD to live on until she found herself a job and got established in the area. In addition, Sharon could then sell her house, move in with C.D. and pay her rent, which would mean additional income for C.D. Plus; Sharon informed the woman that Randy, who lived with her when he was a teenager, would soon be moving back in with her. Randy was a nice looking young man who would be excellent to have around the house for chores and maintain the house. “Isn’t Randy being sued by Rocky for molesting him?” protested C.D., “I heard about him on the news, he molested kids…why would you want someone like that around?”
Sharon frowned at C.D.’s pathetic ignorance. “No…no. Randy is really nice. I know for a fact that he would never do something like that.”
“Really…but…”
Sharon let out an irritated sigh, “Let me tell you the real story behind this.” Sharon revealed that the molestation charges against Randy were merely a scheme that she and Rocky had concocted which had gotten a little out of hand. After her husband had died, Sharon had planned on moving in with her stepson, Rocky. Rocky, however, instead had a young woman move in with him, someone who Sharon considered nothing better than a prostitute, and he thought it would be best that Sharon remain living in her house. Sharon’s second choice was Randy, she remembered how nice he was and, outside of Rocky, he would be the perfect housemate for her. She suggested a plan where Rocky could threaten to bring charges against Randy for molesting him, unless he moved in with Sharon and took care of her. Randy had always been so mild mannered that Sharon thought it would be easy to browbeat him into living with her.

Unfortunately, the little scheme went out of control. When Rocky’s lawyer found out that Randy worked for Beef Matson, the famous gay detective, word eventually got passed on to the district attorney. Suddenly, Sharon found herself talking to investigators and she panicked slightly and told the investigators that Randy had probably molested a number of other children in her family as well. Then, some church lady named Gloria showed up at her door asking her more questions and even offering her assistance if she cooperated with them in helping them unmask Randy as a serial child molester.

“Some assistance,” she complained, “first they sent over some old geezer from their church who was looking for a wife. He even started to inspect my house, and making plans for it, like he was planning on moving in. Then he asked me about my cooking and housekeeping…yeah, right. Gawd! I sent him on his way. Then some people from some church came over and wanted me spend my Sundays with them doing the Holy Roller jump at their church. I was nice to them but any church my feet step into is going to fall down right away.” Sharon giggled. “Then these church folk offered me at a job at some factory way across town working on an assembly line for minimum wage. Some assistance.”

“So Randy didn’t molest no kids. I guess that’s what came out in the wash anyway. It was just a thing of these Bible thumpers gettin’ themselves into the middle of the thing and trying to make a royal mess out of it.”
“But still…” whined C.D., “Rocky’s suing Randy for raping him or touching him wrong.”
Sharon tilted her head and sighed again. “You really have led a sheltered life down there, haven’t you? Sure, Randy fooled around with Rocky but Rocky fooled around with Randy. You know how I know that? Because I had Rocky telling me everything that was going on with him and Randy. The whole thing was my idea…I planned the whole thing. Look…you gots to plan ahead to get what you want. My husband Joe was originally married to one of my older sisters. When they got separated, I decided I wanted him for myself. I was just a few years out of high school and here was this big muscular construction worker. So I got him to get me pregnant so he couldn’t go back to my sister. She still hates me…but that’s her problem. Then, just to get back at me, she decided we had to take Rocky. Well, I didn’t want the kid around reminding my husband of his first marriage, plus when you’re in your twenties you don’t want to be seen with a teenaged son. I had my own little boy and that’s all I wanted.”

“When I moved into the Hardwicke house, I also found myself saddled with another teenager, Randy. I just wanted my little boy, my husband and the house. I was talking Marty Hardwicke into leaving me the house, so I just had to think of a way of getting the two teenaged boys out of the picture. First off, Rocky was really starting to notice girls and I guess the girls really thought he was hot stuff because they were really hanging all over him. I was worried that Rocky would manage to get one of them pregnant and then I’d have some skank wanting to move in with us, which would make things even worse. So whatever Randy wanted to do, I made him include Rocky. Then I’d suggested to Rocky that if he wanted to, you know, mess around…that maybe he could get Randy to do something to him…and then he wouldn’t have to worry about getting some girl pregnant. Just about everybody knew Randy was gay so I thought it would be only a matter of time before they messed around. They did I guess, for a little while, but nothing really major, just groping. I guess Rocky didn’t really couldn’t get into it. I know, because I had him tell me everything that was going on.”

“My thought was that I could report what was going on and get the two of them hauled off to reform school or something and out of my life. I tried…but Rocky’s dad got a little upset. Seems the little brat was telling his dad what was going on, too.”
“But on TV…” insisted C.D., “Rocky says he feels so guilty and his manhood…”
“His manhood, my ass…” interrupted Sharon, “He’d have a child by every biker chick in town if he wasn’t afraid of child support. As far as feeling guilty…yeah, he has reasons to feel guilty about things, but it has nothing to do with Randy.” Then affecting a gentle tone in her voice, Sharon continued. “But that’s all in the past. All we’re trying to do with Randy is play him. Having Randy come back here and move in with me would be a much better thing for him, anyway. Get him away from that fag lifestyle and AIDS and all that.”

Next Sharon steered C.D. back to her plan and getting the woman to sell the house downstate. With a frustrated expression on her face, C.D. again whined, “I really don’t think you understand. I can’t sell my house until my step mom passes away.”
“Didn’t I tell you I could help you out with that problem?”
“How can you possibly do that?” Sharon rose from her kitchen chair and opened a cabinet, and retrieved an object from behind some can goods. “With this,” she announced and produced a small plastic prescription container full of pills and continued to speak very calmly.
”Didn’t you tell me your stepmother is not a very nice person?”
“She’s the original Halloween witch.”
”Alright then. What you need to do is give her these pills. First you have to turn them into powder. Put a pill under a paper towel or something and hit it with a hammer…that usually does the trick. Then start with maybe three pills or so a day into stepmother’s food…coffee would be best. Does your mother drink coffee?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Then your mother will gradually have symptoms that a lot of old people have. Then after awhile she will pass on.”
“But…but…that’s murder.”
“No. It would be murder if you were giving these pills to someone younger. But your stepmother has lived a long life. She’s old. How much can she really be enjoying life now…maybe she treats you so badly because she’s in a lot of pain. Could be that she’s getting senile, too. Your stepmother could develop a very long painful illness, as she gets older so she ends up using most of your inheritance. Then what will you have when she finally does pass? Don’t worry about this…no one will ever know the difference. You mother will just do what a lot of old people do every day. I worked in a nursing home; I know this. Everyday they were taking someone out to a mortuary. I was taught to do this by some women who did the same thing…made a better life for themselves by helping older relatives to pass on. It’s a common practice. You’re saving your stepmother a lot of pain and making your life much better.”
Calmly, coldly and persistently, Sharon continued to press C.D. to accept her plan. Finally, C.D. caved in and accepted the pills and quickly stashed them in her purse. She would begin to make trips to see her stepmother, secretly slipping the medication into her food, a little at first, then working up to larger doses.

*********
"Nobody likes fags…it’s always open season on the fag boys."

Randy was walking quickly down Market Street heading back to the office after running errands on his lunch hour, oblivious to the fact that he was being observed and another dirty trick was about to be played on him. This partly sunny day found the street was fairly crowded and Randy passed a little drama that was playing out with a group of homeless people and a cop who was talking with them. Standing some distance behind him were Gloria and Heidi. This time Gloria would be a hands on participant, directing the proceedings and observe how everything played out. As Randy passed a distance away, Gloria spoke seriously. “Ah, there he is now…let’s get this over with.” The woman quickly punched a number into her cell phone and told someone on the other end where the young blond man was, and she and Heidi returned to casual poses on the street.

In an older Oldsmobile parked on a side street, sat three young men. “Ok, let’s go…” said one of the men sitting on the passenger side of the front seat, “our guy is walking down the street now.” The Oldsmobile blended into the street traffic as it turned onto Church Street. “Look,” said Gloria quietly, “that car…there they are now.” A slight, pleased smile came to Gloria’s face, “The fun will begin shortly.” There was a gap in traffic and the Oldsmobile began to cruise slowly. Sitting behind the driver, a man sat with a paintball gun. The driver spoke, “Get ready man, that’s our boy up the street, the little blondie…I’ll slow down so you can get a good pop off at him.”
“Why do they want to us to whack this little guy, anyway?” queried the shooter.
“Like I don’t know, man…” answered the driver, “and I don’t really care. They just want him popped. Ah…I guess it’s because he’s supposed to be a baby rapist. Like what they told me…they want this guy to look bad…you know, so it looks like everybody hates him. Like his boss is this big macho detective fag dude and unless they make him and this little blondie look bad, everybody will want to turn gay…and we got enough fags running around as it is.”
“Sounds like they’re really hung up on this guy,” replied the shooter.
“You’re not turning sweet boy on this little blondie…are you?” teased the driver.
“No man…just seems kind stupid…like poppin’ one little queenie ain’t gonna do much,”
“Who cares, man. It’s an easy job. We pop him, take off and collect our money.”
“Somebody already tried to do blondie in…I think last week…” added the passenger in the front seat, “tried bashing that blond head in with a board or somethin’. So when we pop the little fag dude…man…” he stretched out the word, “we gonna have people lining up to thank us.”
“When you pop him…” laughed the driver, “and all that red dye come pourin’ down his little blond head…he’s gonna be screaming his little girlie screams. Oh man, this gonna be somethin’ funny.”
“You know…” said the shooter, “These paint ball guns can give you a real nasty bruise. I heard if you shoot somebody in the temple with one of these, you knock them out cold. Like if our little blondie already got a head injury…if I get a good shot to the side of his head…maybe blondie go down for the count…like for good…you know?”
“Like I said, man…” spoke the driver, “Like who’s gonna really care? Nobody likes fags…it’s always open season on the fag boys. Now get ready, that’s blondie right there carrying the shopping bag. I’m gonna stop so you get a good shot.”

The driver nonchalantly stopped the Oldsmobile in the street, with the shooter leaning forward against the back of the front seat. He lined up the gun sight to Randy’s head, then targeted just to the front and above Randy’s ear. He began to pull the trigger. Just then, the was a loud bang, like someone hitting a metal gasoline can with sledge hammer and the Oldsmobile lurched forward a few feet, bouncing its occupants around. This caused the shooter to pull trigger and the paintball gun fired.
“Damn! What the…” said the driver as he looked in his rear view mirror. There was a car behind him and the driver of that car, holding a cell phone to her head, had a startled expression. She smiled a silly smile and held up her hands in an expression that seemed to say "Oops!". Yet behind her was another car in which a man, also holding a cell phone was turning his head in short jerks, like a confused chicken. Both inattentive drivers had driven into the car in front of them without braking.

“Screw this, man…” shouted the driver. Turning to the shooter, he asked urgently, “Did you get your shot off?”
“Yeah, I did…but blondie’s clean. I missed him. I must have shot the pavement or somethin’.” As the drivers of the two other cars in the chain reaction accident got out of their cars, still talking into their cell phones, the woman fumbling through her purse, and the man walking about, still acting confused, a clamor arose from another spot on the block. The driver looked into side view mirror. “Jesus and Mary!” exclaimed to the driver. He called out to the shooter. “Oh, you hit something alright, man. You really hit something!” Continuing to look in his side view mirror, there was the cop who had been talking to the street people. He was now kneeling on the sidewalk, grabbing onto his crotch and his midsection was covered in red dye. The cop crumpled over onto the sidewalk, lying on his side, assuming a fetal position. A young homeless woman ran into the street attempting to stop cars. “Officer down, officer down,” she screamed, “Do you have a cell phone? Dial 911. Dial 911…officer down!” A couple of cars screeched to a halt, their drivers running out to give assistance. Other homeless people were attempting to comfort the policeman, one man putting a coat under the officer’s head.

“What the fu…” shouted the driver at the shooter, “Luis…you know what you did, man? You know what you freakin’ did, man? You shot a freakin’ cop!”
“Like it’s a paintball, man…” countered the shooter, “Just a little dye…”
The passenger in the front seat turned towards the shooter angrily, “Yeah, we know that…but ain’t nobody else does. They gonna think we shot a cop. The cops gonna start putting bullets in our brains and ask questions later. We got to get out of here.”

Down the street an older homeless woman became hysterical, her coat splattered with red dye. She ran and suddenly grabbed onto an unsuspecting Gloria for comfort, screaming hysterically. “Let go of me,” protested Gloria, “This is nothing, it’s probably nothing.” Turning desperately to Heidi, Gloria exclaimed, “Get her off me, she reeks, she smells!”

Back in the Oldsmobile, the passenger desperately urged the driver to flee. “We gotta get out of here…”
The driver continued to stare into his side view mirror. “Man, there are people running all over the place down there.”
“Jesus…man,” complained the passenger, “Stop staring like an old lady and get us out of here, before everybody is able to recognize us. We got to get out of here…NOW!” The driver floored the accelerator petal and the 442 cubic inch engine roared. With the driver still looking into the side view mirror, the car jumped the curb, hitting a large plastic trashcan, which was sent spinning across the sidewalk. It hit a middle-aged man who grabbed onto it and did a wild waltz with the can before he fell to the ground. The Oldsmobile sped down the street maneuvering around the traffic before it made a sharp turn onto a side street. The unsuspecting Randy, along with the pedestrians around him, turned in the direction of the commotion further down the street. One person yelled that some homeless people shot a cop and then was corrected by another person who said it was a drive-by shooting. Randy shook his head in distress. The only good thing, he thought, was that at least this time he was not in the center of things.

*********
"Otherwise, I’m going to wear you out and I’ll have to get you re-upholstered."

After showering, Beef Matson walked naked into his bedroom, roughly drying his rich black hair with a towel. Steam from the bathroom followed him into the bedroom making the room slightly warmer and steaming up the windows quickly. Putting the towel on the back of a chair to dry, Beef ran a brush through his hair and set the alarm of his clock radio. He threw back the blanket and comforter on his bed and paused a second. He looked over at Fred the teddy bear sitting comfortably in an easy chair in the room. The bear seemed to be looking up at Beef with a sympathetic smile. “Aw, come on, Fred,” he said aloud, “You might as well snuggle with me tonight.” Matson whimsically grabbed the bear and he slid his nude body and the stuffed animal under the covers. The detective amused himself by whispering to the bear. “You know, Fred…once this case with Randy is over, I’m going to have to concentrate on getting a boyfriend. Otherwise, I’m going to wear you out and I’ll have to get you re-upholstered. Don’t worry…I promise that if I get a boyfriend, I get you a bear friend so you’ll have someone to snuggle with too.”
Matson lay in bed for a while, not yet ready to fall asleep. The thought of his assistant Randy being alone in his apartment worried him. “Geez…” he thought, “You have got to get out of that apartment, Randy.” Thinking further, he recalled how reluctant Randy was to stay with friends temporarily…Randy wanted to stay in his apartment until he found another one. “Don’t know what I am going to do with you, Randy…”he said aloud, “You can be so damned stubborn.” Lying in bed quietly for a while more and thinking about a number of things, Beef let out a gentle chuckle. Adopting an old man’s voice, Beef quietly uttered, “ain’t nobody gonna want to do no par-tay with you no more.” The detective chuckled some more, turned over on his side with his arm around Fred the bear and fell asleep.

The Mystery continues in Chapter 8, Little Orphan Randy

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