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Beef Matson Archive - Chapter 8
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Beef Matson Archive - Chapter 10
Beef Matson Archive - Chapter 11

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© 2005 - 2006 Rick Chris
Illustrations and photos ©2005 - 2006 Rick Chris

Chapter 12: Have Yourself A Weird Little Christmas
(The final chapter in the serial.)

"Never underestimate the power of one little prayer."

As he approached the building his office was in, Matson looked for telltale signs of what the radio had reported as "an impromptu gay Christmas celebration, which turned into a near riot". He saw nothing with everything the picture of complete tidiness. Except, that is, until he reached the entrance of his building. The metal sign announcing the building as the Harvey Milk Memorial building was missing. The detective stopped for a few seconds to look at the facade, not even seeing holes in the building wall where the sign might have been anchored. Deciding this little mystery was not worth anymore of his attention, he continued into the building.

"Turn out the lights and call the law."

Matson made his usual morning trip through the lobby to the side door and up the flight of stairs to the second floor hallway. Entering the hallway from the stairwell, Matson saw a man standing next to his office door, apparently waiting for him. The man was dressed in a dark suit with shiny back leather shoes; the style was straight out of the 1960's. The man was flicking a coin into the air, and, upon seeing the detective, he flicked the coin up in the air once more, grabbed it with the same hand and put it in his pocket.
"It's my main man," announced the stranger, "the celebrated Beef Matson."
Beef Matson slowed his walk, approaching the man cautiously, "…and you are?"
"I'm just a delivery boy." The man held out his hand, offering a handshake to Matson, "Very honored to meet you sir," the two men shook hands, "My boss has nothing but glowing things to say about you."
"And your boss would be…"
"That would be telling…" replied the man with a laugh. "Got to make this quick, I've got to fly. My boss would like you to have this. Consider it your Christmas present. My guess is that this will bring you enough business to last you not only through the New Year, but possibly for a few years to come." The man gave Beef Matson a small package, neatly and simply wrapped in a holiday paper.

"The gift will be self explanatory," assured the man, "Very good to meet you, man. Got to head off into the wild blue yonder." The man began to walk down the hallway towards the stairs. He snapped his fingers and pointed a finger at Matson, saying, "Turn out the lights and call the law."
Matson looked down at the flat little package in his hands. "Your boss, is he a former client…?" As Matson looked up, there was no one in the hallway. "Good everlovin' grief," muttered Beef, "I've got to get Minerva up here and do a reading of this hallway."

Entering his office, Matson did not take off his coat and instead went directly into his personal office. He quickly opened up the package and found it was a compact disc. He then started up his computer and while the machine booted up, he went to the coffee maker to make the early morning brew. Returning to his desk, he found the computer was ready and placed the disc into the drive. An icon appeared on the screen and Matson opened that. The CD contained some word processing files.

His computer was able to open a file with ease. The investigator's eyes widened as he looked at the document. The document was titled ominously, "CLEANSING OF HOMOSEXUALS AND THE HOMOSEXUAL PRESENCE, and then subtitled, "A SOCIAL PURIFICATION". Arranged alphabetically, was a seemingly very large list of names of people from throughout the United States. In addition to the vital statistics of name, age, gender, address and who, if anybody, the person was living with, the listing also included notations of how politically active the person was, the person's professional involvement and things in the person's background that could possibly be used against them. Matson found celebrities on the list, including actors, directors, producers, writers, and politicians, he also found people who were simply employed as office workers or store clerks. Somehow, their names had also found their way on this list. There was also a list of names of corporations who were friendly to and active in the "cleansing" process.
"Well, well, well…" muttered the detective softly, "How interesting this is," and then, with more concern, "Some of these people are friends of mine."
Some individuals had extra entries under a header, "NEUTRALIZATION" indicating an active campaign was being waged to discredit and ruin their reputations by whoever had put together the list. A description was included of the methods being used to destroy the person.
"Geez Louweez, some Nazis have way too much freakin' time on their hands," uttered Matson again in deep masculine voice that was barely audible. "The country seems to be awash in morons."
Matson quickly clicked on a link for the section containing the "M's" and did a search for his name. He found his name listed and read through the listing about him. Muttering again out loud, Beef said, "good everlovin' grief, inquiring minds certainly do want to know, don't they." Matson also found that his information in the listing was about fifty percent wrong and he was also able to guess the date the information was gathered because of what was listed.

The detective banged his fist on his desk, shook his head and leaned back in his chair in thought. He decided to not look any more at the contents of the disk; he needed to finish the work on his assistant's case first. He would save this odd gift for another day, and investigate its authenticity, origin and what the information on the disc was being used for, after he was assured that Randy's situation was stabilized. Ejecting the disc from his computer, Matson placed the CD back in its jewel box and went to the storage closet in his office. He first slid open the sliding wood door, then stooping down to a cabinet, he grabbed the cabinet and slid it aside. He then slid a panel in the wall behind the cabinet. Behind the panel was a small safe set inside the wall. The safe was opened, the CD jewel case and the wrapping paper it came in placed inside and closing the safe again, Matson slid back the panel and the cabinet. Matson looked back at the closet. The coming year might indeed be a busy year for him.

********
"Permission to bury my face in your chest, sir."

Matson had put in a very productive hour and a half of work when he heard the front office door open. The door to his office opened and a very chipper looking Randy popped his head in.
"Mornin' boss," greeted Randy, "I stopped on my way in and picked up that special coffee roast you like. I'll put on a fresh pot."
"Great," said the detective, "you look to be in good spirits this morning. I heard about some impromptu Christmas party developed on Castro Street last night, some minor ruckus. You and your friends run into that last night?" Matson walked to the outer office to place his jacket in the coat closet.
"Ah…not really, I guess," answered Randy, "I don't remember doing much out of the ordinary…just going to some bars and doing some dancing."
Randy paused, watching his boss place his jacket on a hanger and then spoke again.

"I hope you don't think I'm getting all religious on you, and this is kind of personal stuff…but I pray every once in a while." Matson closed the closet door and turned to face Randy, smiling. Randy continued. "I've been asking God why I had these problems put in my lap, but in spite of all my prayers, I never seemed to get an answer. That is, until this morning. When I woke up this morning I had this thought in my head that I just couldn't ignore and it seems to answer everything for me. Here it is. We can plod along with what we're given in life and keep trying to adjust to that and end up miserable as a result. I think maybe God or the universe or whatever throws a mess of problems into our lives in order to encourage us to rise above our current situation in our lives, and by overcoming those problems, we grow and become a better person as a result…you know, maybe rise up to a higher spiritual level or something and wind up in a better place in our lives as a result." Randy nervously rubbed his neck, "I don't know if that made a whole lot of sense."
Matson folded his arms with authority, beaming a proud smile at Randy, "Made perfect sense to me." Then, the detective shook a finger at Randy. "You know, you keep reminding me why I hired you. You're one a pretty sharp cookie. There are a lot of people who go through their whole lives without making that realization. Trying to fit in and adjust until they realize they've wasted their whole lives doing that."
Randy shook his head and smiling shyly, looked down at this desk.
"Uh…Lynn," Randy said shyly, "Can I have a little chat with you?"
"Uh-oh," responded Beef, "Serious time, you called me by my first name. You must be going to ask me for a raise."
"No…nothin' like that. I heard on the radio this morning that some T.V. stations are running a tape of an incident I had yesterday where this little girl propositioned me and it showed some women apparently coaching her to do that. I guess now there's a big uproar that somebody would encourage a little girl do that, and some of the radio commentators were even saying that people should get off my back and leave me alone. Amazing, like overnight…I'm not the bad guy anymore." Randy had a sad smile on his face, which was suddenly replaced by an expression of determination. "Then I wondered who could have possibly shot the video tape and that someone must have been following me in order to catch that incident on tape." Randy shook his finger at his boss. "I know how you work, so all things considered, you had to be the one who shot the video."
Matson shrugged his shoulders, "Yeah, guilty."

Randy got up from his chair and walked over to Beef, staring him in the face.
"Lynn Gordon Matson, sir! Permission to bury my face in your chest, sir."
Surprised at the request, Matson laughed, "Permission granted!" Matson grabbed Randy and pulled him tightly against his chest, pushing his face into the top of Randy's head affectionately.
"To let you know, there's more about your case that will be making it's way into the news. You will be completely vindicated. I should also let you know that…well…it turns out that Sharon and Rocky have been involved in some really bad stuff. It appears that Sharon murdered her husband. From what I understand, she's a complete sociopath. Ah…from what Sharon revealed to my undercover operative, she also murdered your Uncle Marty. She was secretly giving him medication that she was stealing from a nursing home where she was working at the time.
"My Uncle Marty…" gasped Randy, "Oh gosh, I could have maybe done something…"
"No, Randy," admonished Matson, "You were a teenager at the time, there was no way you could have know or suspected. Sharon's quite the pro at that sort of thing. This should just show you that your relationship with Sharon and her family was just a one-way street, whatever concern you had for her or her family was just a waste of time on your part, Randy. They never had any concern for you or probably anybody, for that matter."

Randy looked up at his boss for a second, saying nothing. He then grunted a "Hmmph!" and laid his head against Matson's chest again. "Oh man," sighed the detective's assistant, "Yeah, I guess I suspected there was some not good stuff going on in that family. But I was so eager to be accepted by them, to be part of a family that I would just ignore the bad things I'd hear about that family. It was because I was illegitimate, gay…I always put myself on the bottom rung of the social ladder and everyone else above me, so I guess I had a blind eye for other peoples' failings and always put myself below them. That's another thing that suddenly popped into my mind this morning, that trying to gain acceptance from people who won't give it is a waste of time, so don't bother trying and just move on."

Beef Matson looked down at the top of the blond head in his embrace and spoke softly. "The real victim of abuse in this case is you, Randy. Sharon and her family abused you. They stole your ability to believe that you can be loved and cared about by others. A common mistake many very moral gay people I've known make is that they mistakenly assume that just because someone is straight, that person has to be more moral than they are. You're right, trying to get acceptance from an immoral person is not only a waste of time, but it just allows you to be used and gives the immoral person something to laugh about. This business of someone being better than you because they're straight and you're not, isn't any more of an argument than someone saying they're more adult than you because they smoke cigarettes and you don't."

"Now that is whole business with you is practically finished and done with, you should concentrate on getting yourself a boyfriend. I know you haven't had one since your Brett passed away, so it's well overdue that you get some…well, good lovin' into your life. You've got to throw away all the negative stuff drummed into you when you were a kid and realize that you're a great looking nice guy that a lot of other guys would jump at the chance to be paired off with."
"Well, you know…" excused Randy, "back when I lived in Illinois, finding a boyfriend was like spiders running the risk of being killed by the other spider when they try to mate. I mean, I never knew if some other guy would turn out to be a straight guy who just wanted to beat me up."
"You haven't been living in Illinois for awhile, and still you're not dating any guys."
"What about you," reminded Randy, "I haven't seen you dating anyone in awhile."
"That's only because the groupies keep getting in the way of the quality men," laughed Matson sarcastically, "Getting myself a man will be a new year's resolution."

Just then the door from the hallway opened and Tony from Just Desserts entered carrying a box of donuts. "Country dance lessons again?" he asked.
"Nope," replied Randy, "Thanking my boss for everything he's done for me. 'sides, hugging my big, handsome boss is one of the perks of my job."
"Really…I didn't know you felt that way," added Matson, "Would you consider hugs in lieu of raises?"
"Absolutely not," answered Randy tersely.
"Got a box of donuts for you guys," interjected Tony, "To celebrate Randy's vindication. Just heard on the radio the little while ago that guy who was accusing Randy of molesting him, has just been hauled in for questioning, along with his stepmother, about the murder of his father. As well as for the attempted murder of our very own Beef Matson. Ain't that just the kick in the pants turn of events."
Randy shot a look of utter shock at his boss, "They tried to kill you?"
"They never got close. The operative I had working on the case for me was the person they tried to get to shoot me."
"Shoot you?…omigawd!" Randy put a hand to his mouth.
"Nothin' to worry about, didn't even come close to happening."
Matson's assistant hugged his boss again, this time with a sincere, protective hug.

"I would have come up with some donuts earlier," continued Tony, "My staff and I have been working like crazy to keep up with demand this morning. The craziest thing, we're suddenly doing a land office business this morning and some of people who have been coming in are guys I thought I haven't seen in years, yet at the same time, I know they've been living in the neighborhood for years. Goofiest thing. Like I've been having a terrible sense of deju-vu or duplicate but different memories of the same people."

"Did you see any of the gay Christmas near riot that's been in the news this morning?" asked Beef.
"If there was," answered Tony, "I would have missed it, I go to bed very early…have to get up before sunrise to make my donuts. I did hear there was a shopping frenzy in the building last night, all the retail shops did fantastic business."

"Say, uh…Tony, since you get here pretty early, " Matson began to inquire, "You didn't happen to see a guy hanging around inside the building this early this morning? Dressed in a dark suit straight out of the 1960s. You know, white shirt, thin tie, stovepipe slacks, like those pictures of the Rat Pack, you know, like what Sammy Davis Jr., Dean Martin would wear back then."
"Didn't see anybody like that this morning," answered Tony, "When I come in at the crack of dawn, there's hardly ever anybody in the building. Our customers come right into our shop from the street early in the morning. What you're describing sounds like the wise guys who hung around the old neighborhood back east when I was a kid. Are there gangsters involved in Randy's case? Oh boy, this is getting exciting."
"No, no," responded Beef, "Has nothing to do with Randy's case. I just had a question."

********
"You shameless hussy, you're tempting me with high calorie foods."

"Is everything pretty well wrapped up then in Randy's case?" asked Tony.
"Yeah, pretty much so, " said Matson, nodding his head.
"Oh goody, then sit down and tell Randy and me all the messy details."
"Nah, I've got a ton of things to do."
"Oh please, oh please, oh please, Mr. Matson."
"No, really…there's really something important I'd like to start on…"
"Oh please, oh pretty please. Puhleeze, Pull-leeze, Pull-leeeze, Pull-leeeeeze…"
"Tony, you're getting obnoxious."
"Then you'll tell us the story then."
"I really don't…"
"I did bring donuts," reminded Tony, "and the very best. Look, look. New York style raised triangles with a cream cheese filling. Fresh raspberry jelly filled raised donuts, cinnamon apple cheese pastry, chocolate iced cinnamon raised donuts…and those are diet jelly filled donuts, I left off the butter cream frosting."
"You shameless hussy," remarked Matson, "you're tempting me with high calorie foods."
"So? Tempting people with high calorie foods is what I do for a living." Tony began waving the box under the detective's nose, "Tell us the story, tell us the story."
"You smart ass," said Beef as he grabbed a sweet roll, "O.k., close the hallway door, sit down and I'll tell you guys the whole thing."
"Yea!" exclaimed Tony, shutting the door and pulling a chair up to the front of Randy's desk, resting an arm on the desk. With a donut in one hand and a cup of coffee in another, Randy plunked himself behind his desk. Beef Matson slid a chair around backwards and straddled it, leaning on the back of the chair facing his assistant's desk and then gulping down a donut, began to relate his behind the scenes story.

"Well," started Beef Matson, "I knew the child molestation charges against Randy were obviously false, since I know his personality and what his tastes are, so the idea that Randy was a molester was just a no go with me. Randy's worked for me for a while and I know he simply doesn't have the personality of a molester. To be blunt, Randy, you instead exhibit the traits of someone who has suffered abuse as a child, mostly, I think, from neglect and certainly not a child molester. In fact, what I heard is that you were the one who tended to be the protector when Sharon Ledbauer or one of her sisters would start being abusive towards their kids. When I tried to interview one of Sharon's sisters, I saw just how abusive she could be.

Also, the sneak attack on Randy by laying these charges on him when he went back to Illinois to visit the Ledbauers for the holidays that also bothered me. Since I knew the charges had to be false, I wanted to find out what the real reason why Sharon Ledbauer and company would want to file these charges and why they waited all these years to do so. The entire thing just so did not make any sense. What could they possibly hope to gain from these charges against Randy? He's not rich and he certainly doesn't make very much money."
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that, boss," interrupted Randy.
"Hush," said Matson, pointing a finger at his assistant, "I sensed some sort of scam might be the underlying reason for everything. You see, from what Randy initially told me about Sharon, I began to suspect that she might fit the profile of a predator herself, all the while she was pointing a finger at Randy as a child molester. I began to think that whatever was going on was quite possibly something Sharon had initiated so she could somehow benefit from it. This was underlined when the Sharon and Rocky's lawyer began suggesting to Berry Starr that the charges might be dropped if Randy moved back to Illinois and moved in with Sharon or maybe became a nice husband for one of Sharon's sister's daughters. I thought, whoa! If you really think someone's a child molester, why on earth would you want him to marry one of your daughters?"

When I visited Randy's hometown in Illinois, and did a little snooping there, what I was able to find out about Sharon told me that she did very much fit the profile of a predator. Her behavior at a nursing home she worked at seemed to really suggest that. From the various interviews I did I also found that her family and relatives are pretty much on the dysfunctional side. The complete opposite of our Randy. When I got back here, I devoted a lot of my time to running background checks on Sharon and her family members. That's why I was spending so much time in my office when I got back, Randy.

Sharon and her dear sisters and their husbands have a history of offenses ranging from domestic violence, child abuse, disorderly conduct, receiving stolen property…what have you. It's interesting that while the press was tearing into Randy, they never bothered to check into the background of his accusers. I managed to find out that some people had filed restraining orders against Sharon to keep her away from their elderly relatives. Sharon is one of those people who preys on the elderly, stealing from them, trying to get them to sign over property, change wills and so on. I finally found out that the nursing home Sharon had worked at years ago, discharged her for much the same reasons, as well as suspecting her of stealing medications. Some of that medication she stole she apparently used to poison Randy's Uncle Marty. From what I was told from your closer relatives, like your cousin Justin, Randy, is that Sharon probably manipulated your Uncle Marty into letting her move in with him, for the sole purpose of gaining control of his property. In fact, Randy, it was probably sheer luck that saved you from just being thrown out of your uncle's house by Sharon. I became convinced that the only reason Sharon now came up with this molestation con, is that she found some reason to prey on Randy.

In addition, the guy you were supposed to have abused, Rocky…well, when I ran a background check on him, a lot of drug related charges came up, along with fencing stolen goods, domestic violence charges and so on. I also found out that some of the guys he's hanging with are some heavy-duty bad guys involved in drug trafficking. On top of that, he's up to his eyeballs and beyond in debt. I was also able to get hints that some federal type of investigation was swirling around Rocky involving drug trafficking and money laundering. All of that seemed to go against the image of Rocky as a distraught, clean living straight male who had his masculinity ruined by a gay encounter years ago. Give me a break, I mean Rocky's riding Harleys, is a babe magnet, and had a paternity suit filed against him and he's macho enough to get himself involved with some hard core drug gangstas. All of a sudden this big, macho guy decides he's totally distraught because of some mutual jack off scene that occurred when he and Randy were teenagers. That so didn't make any sense. Again, something else had to be going on there.

The profile I came up with for Sharon just screamed predator. However, when I came up against a brick wall when I tried to interview anybody in Sharon's family, so I knew I couldn't uncover any information that way. So what I decided to do was set up a sting, provide Sharon with a potential victim she might find irresistible. That's why we went to the Robes Roses that night, Randy. While you were in the show lounge watching the show, I went with Myles, the owner of the place, to audition one of his performers, Tommy Morton, as a naive country girl who stood to inherit a lot of money if only her stepmother would just drop dead. Tommy was very convincing in his performance, so I sent him into the field as my operative in Illinois to act as bait for Sharon. Sharon took the bait, big time. I guess Sharon was so used to preying on innocents she didn't suspect anything. She was so convinced that she was manipulating the operative I sent out there to trap her, she told Tommy all kinds of damning information about her and Rocky poisoning Sharon's husband, so Rocky could get some money to pay his debts and poisoning your uncle Marty and even sent Tommy on a mission to my office to shoot me because Sharon felt I was being a nuisance."

Tony and Randy looked at each other with amazed looks and continued to munch compulsively on donuts.

"The bottom line is that Sharon comes from a family of con artists and that the molestation charges against Randy were merely just another of her cons. Randy had impressed Sharon as being a good worker, and she places absolutely no value in other people unless she thinks they're good workers or have money and if she can find some other way to use them. The bottom line is, Sharon has absolutely no problem with offing people to improve her cash flow. Apparently, she was using the fact that Rocky had fathered a child with her to blackmail him into filing the molestation charges against Randy, with the idea that Randy would then be forced to, essentially become a built in babysitter and take care of the child she and Rocky had, much like Randy took care of Sharon and her sister's kids when he was a teenager, as well as being a much younger replacement for the older husband she had murdered.

What was complicating this mess was that at the precise moment the charges against Randy came out, a vitriolic campaign to paint Randy as a monstrous child molester began, trying to convict Randy in the media long before any litigation took place. Apparently, the district attorney back in Illinois was determined to make an example of Randy as a homosexual child molester, especially, I guess, after he found out Randy worked for me. I suspect he gave advance knowledge of the charges against Randy to some political forces out there that began to orchestrate a campaign against Randy and paint the entire gay community as a hotbed for child molesters. Political forces that who are a lot more concern with their own political agenda than with any concern about child molestation. It didn't escape my attention that there was a campaign to embarrass me as the homosexual private investigator with a child molester as an assistant with no regard as to if the charges against Randy were actually valid. The intensity of the attacks on Randy was probably only due to the fact he works for me, plus many of the attacks in the media, the hate mail, the phone calls were directed at me and Berry Starr."

"Maybe that was all coincidence, rather than conspiracy," suggested Tony, "just a lot of crazies attracted by the publicity."

"My theory on coincidence is that if something happens over and over again to the same person, it ain't coincidence. The harassment Randy was receiving, the physical attacks, then he suddenly gets an eviction notice…give me a break, sounds a bit like a conspiracy to me. Plus, Berry and I have both represented gay people in the past that had the same type of dirty tricks campaign waged against them. More so if the gay person was in the public eye. Precisely the same thing that happened to Randy, a sort of dirty tricks campaign to trash a person's reputation. Some of my clients have been very, very decent people but the people who were trying to trash their reputations didn't care. Sorry to leave you out of the loop on so many things this time Randy, but you were just too close to the center of the storm to fill you in on everything. For instance, some guy went to one of the bars you like to go to and was telling patrons and the bartenders that he was a friend of yours and both you and he were really into kiddie porn. I guess that was some lame attempt to uncover some sort of child molestation ring. The owner of the bar called me and I decided that I'd wait until all of this was over before I told you. You were pretty depressed already and I didn't want to bring you down any further. Both Berry Starr and myself have had clients commit suicide, so I know what depression can do to people. So the second part of your case was to see if I could identify who might be behind the dirty tricks and see if I could get them to maybe cease and desist.

I noticed that with similar cases I've had in the past, whoever orchestrates these attacks seems to go about it in the same way, so that would suggest that maybe the same people are involved. In fact, I came into possession of some material this morning that suggests that a campaign against gay people might be more organized than I thought. Anyway, with similar cases I've had, the same woman always seems to show up, either trying to get information about my clients or trying to stir things up. In your case, Randy, she showed up at Minerva's shop asking questions about you and then later, in a stroke of luck, when we were at the Cozy Cup with Minerva and Berry, we saw her walking down Castro Street with another woman. Then Minerva went undercover for me and was able to obtain some information about this woman, whose name is Gloria. I tracked Gloria and the team she was working with for awhile and was able to get an idea of what she was up to, which was setting up dirty tricks and trying to make Randy's life miserable. Again, I apologize for not letting in on this, Randy, but I started following you around, in disguise and with a video camera, in the outside hope I might catch somebody in the act of pulling a dirty trick on you.

I lucked out again when Gloria and her team had the little girl proposition you. Having some little girl dressed up as a little sex queen proposition you for sex that has got to be the most lowlife thing I have ever seen. I handed a copy of that video over last night to a local television station and from what I hear, that video has been distributed literally around the world at light speed. There's been quite an uproar about the video and should be quite an embarrassment to the women I caught in it and whoever put them up to it. I imagine that should put the kibosh on a lot of the harassment you've been getting, Randy.

For the past couple of weeks, I've been supplying the police back in Illinois, physical evidence and audiotapes that incriminate Sharon and Rocky and totally vindicate you, Randy. In light of that, the district attorney back there, even though reluctantly, will not consider any charges against you, though I did have an interesting conversation with an individual in the district attorney's office back there tell me that homosexuals who initiate sexual encounters were predators, while heterosexuals who initiate sexual encounters were merely sexually aggressive. In addition, the army of social workers that were sent out to interview the children in that family to find out if Randy had molested them was instead given all sorts of other unfortunate information by the kids and none of it about Randy. It seems Sharon's sisters were encouraging their daughters to have children through prostitution and out of wedlock, even with their own cousins, simply to bring in welfare support money, and the local authorities really frown on that sort of thing. Sharon and her family, by falsely accusing Randy, ended up putting the spotlight on things in their own family they would have preferred to keep hidden. I spent early this morning faxing the last of my transcripts and testimony regarding this case off to the police in Illinois. Apparently, they were pretty close to arresting Sharon and Rocky anyway, so when they got the last of the stuff from me this morning, that's exactly what they went out and did.

Again, I'm sorry that I had to keep you pretty much out of the loop on this one, kid," Matson gave a sympathetic look towards Randy, "I realize what a rough time you were going through. But you were just so much in the middle of everything that I couldn't risk spoiling my undercover operation and I also needed to catch the people who were harassing you in the act. Okay, then. Any comments or questions?" asked Beef.

"My, my, that's certainly an involved little story there," replied Tony, "When's the hard cover version coming out? Still, I may be dense or something, but I don't get it. Why should these right-wingers be so obsessed and go so out of their way to make all this trouble for Randy and you? I realize that you have a big reputation for defending gay folks and caused some embarrassment in the past to some right wing types, but why would those right-wingers want to go out of their way to make trouble for you or anyone else just because they're gay? If you don't like a group of people, you just don't associate with them."

"The right wingers attack us because they know without us queers…they just ain't got nothin'."

"For the same reason they would make any group of people a scapegoat, because they need us," replied Matson, a bit angrily, "to cover the bankruptcy of their ideals, to cover up the fact that they really don't stand for anything except their own narrow self interests. It's to cloud over the fact that they really don't stand for anything except for some warmed over self-serving and very tired political and religious clichés. By trying to get other people to hate us, they hope to distract those people from the fact that it's getting harder and harder to make a living and that their lives suck. The right wingers attack us because they know without us queers…they just ain't got nothin'."

Beef Matson paused, sighed and continued, "You may not understand why hate groups are obsessed with you and you can ignore them. You can ignore them all you want. You can ignore them until one day they come for you…and then they will be impossible to ignore."

*******

After Tony had left the office, Matson told Randy he would be doing some work for awhile in his office and told his assistant that he did not want to be disturbed, with Beef closing his office door behind him. From past experience, Randy knew that this would mean his boss would be locked up in his office for most of the day. A scant fifteen minutes later, an unexpected Matson emerged.
"You know what?" he said, "I realized I need to take care of a much more important matter." The detective opened the clothes closet and began to retrieve his coat.
"Okay," replied Randy, barely giving Matson's announcement a second thought.
Matson pulled Randy's coat out of the closet. "This important matter involves you, so put your coat on, we're heading out," informed Beef as he threw Randy's coat over to him.
"What…?" puzzled Randy.
"Well," said Matson, "I know you've had a kind of messed up holiday so far and there's only a few days left until Christmas, but I think that's time enough to try to make it a little better holiday for you. Let's take some time off, go do some window-shopping on Castro Street and I'll buy you a sandwich for lunch. I figured that if I keep working on a new project I started, I'm just going to get all pissed off and get myself in a royally grumpy old mood as a result. Since there's only a little bit of the holiday season left, I don't want to waste it by being grumpy. 'Sides, there's a whole brand new year coming up in which I can be grumpy."
"Good idea," added Randy, "I've seen your grumpy moods, no fun."

Matson put his arm on Randy's shoulder guiding him towards the hallway door, "I'm a firm believer in keeping up the morale of my staff."
"Staff…?" remarked Randy looking about the office.
"You need to get something in you besides sweet rolls, anyway," added Matson. "Otherwise, you'll turn into a blimp and I'll have to poke holes in you to let some air out." Matson began to poke his fingers into what he knew were sensitive spots in Randy's sides as they entered the hallway. Randy responded with jerky movements and high-pitched complaints.

*******
"Listen here…you ignorant, slimy, pathetic weasel."

As the private investigator and his assistant exited the main entrance of the office building, a good looking young man with well-coifed hair and smartly dressed in a suit with a bow tie approached them. The man stopped in Matson's path and spoke.

"Mr. Matson," he greeted, you know what your problem is?" The man adjusted his bow tie and shook his head in a manner that seemed indicate the young man was very much aware of his good looks. "You're a bad influence who's way too popular, bringing publicity to a isolated, unimportant group of people. We just can't have people like you running around corrupting the country, moving it in a direction we just don't want it go. That means we are not going to stop until your reputation is ruined and you're not popular at all, gay boy. You may have come out on top this time, but you were just lucky…just a lucky, overrated gay boy detective. The next time, you irritating fruitcake, you may not be so lucky."

"You don't have any real ability, all you are is just walking homosexual propaganda…"

"Believe me, there will be a next time. Lots and lots of next times. If your assistant wasn't the sexual molester and predator, maybe you're the predator and you molested him, bringing over to your side. With all the time, money and energy we spent trying to expose a pedophile and predator…well, one of you is going to damn well stay labeled as a pedophile. My suggestion is that it might be a lot healthier for you if you assumed a much lower profile and were a lot less aggressive in…"

Randy noticed that his boss was beginning to stretch ever so subtly, a posture he knew Beef Matson assumed when he was at the end of his patience or getting ready to punch somebody's lights out. The man was continuing to prattle on, "Real Americans are tired of diversity being used as a code word for immorality. You don't have any real ability, all you are is just walking homosexual propaganda…" Suddenly, a minute quivering started in the small of Randy's back and shot up his spine to the base of his brain. Randy's head shook ever so slightly and then suddenly stopped. He stepped in between the stranger and his boss. Smiling into the man's face, Randy interrupted the stranger. "Excuse me," Matson's assistant said cheerily, "when anyone wants to talk to Lynn Gordon Matson they have to chat with me first, you know, to arrange an appointment. You see, I'm his assistant." Randy smiled graciously.
Suddenly Randy's face filled with an alarming focused rage. Words began to crackle out of Randy's mouth like a drill sergeant's lightning, spattering into the terrified face of the man with the bow tie. Randy's face was a glowing red, making his blond eyebrows appear like white-hot coals. Intensity lasered out of his ocean blue eyes.
"I want you to know something…” Randy growled, "and I want you to be perfectly clear on this…'boy'." Randy jabbed his finger into the stranger, near the bow tie and kept stepping closer towards the man, who moved backwards until Randy had him pinned up against the building wall, squirming and with a near panic look to his face. Being about the same height as the stranger, Randy stared right into the man's eyes.
"Listen here…you ignorant, slimy, pathetic weasel. If you want to come down here and threaten somebody, you threaten me first. What I will do then is grab a hold of your worthless testicles and give them a squeeze until your freakin' bow tie starts spinning. You understand that…'boy'? In fact, you better have one pretty damned good excuse why I shouldn't get freakin' medieval all over your worthless ass right now. Speak up, moron, and make it fast, otherwise I hope to hell you know a damned good dry cleaner."
The man attempted to squeak out a response, "Hey…I only…well…uh…"
Beef Matson did nothing, tilting his head and watching Randy's behavior with complete marvel.

"What I want you to do right now," continued Randy, "is to apologize to Mr. Matson and tell him you couldn't help yourself because you're just a total, worthless idiot. Do it fast, man…because I just so can't wait to have some fun with you. Believe me, it's just going to feel so damned good to release a few months of pent up aggression on the sorry ass of some homo hater."
Trying to squeeze away from Randy, the bow tied stranger spoke to Matson, his eyebrows slanted in an apologetic expression, "Sorry, man…"
"That's Mr. Matson," barked Randy.
"Sorry, Mr. Matson," continued the man, "I was just acting like an idiot. Sorry. Really sorry."
The man looked over to Randy's face to see if his apology had been accepted. Randy merely shrugged his shoulders and stepped back. The man hurriedly took off down the street, grabbing quick looks back at Randy with an amazed expression.

"Randall…" Matson stepped over and looked at his assistant, "is that you in there?"
"Sorry, I guess I just kind of lost it. I just didn't want the two of you to play pitch and catch."
"Pitch and catch?"
"You would've pitched your fist and he would have caught it in his jaw."
Matson laughed a hearty laugh and grabbed his assistant with a mighty bear hug, nearly lifting Randy off his feet; "You're just full of surprises sometimes, aren't you?
Randy shrugged his shoulders again; "I've been under a lot of stress, lately." Matson laughed and pulled Randy's shoulder into his. "Thanks for dealing with that moron for me." The pair continued their walk with Matson occasionally rubbing Randy's shoulders and patting him on the back, and uttering occasional exclamations, much like a father whose son just made a winning touchdown.

*********

The General
The General suddenly woke up. He did not remember anything since his confrontation with the mysterious stranger in his SUV. The General also suddenly realized that he was restrained and a cloth gagged his mouth. Looking about, he realized too that he was still in his SUV, the back seat was folded down and he was lying on the carpet floor. With a jolt, the man realized he was tied tightly to his assistant…and they were both completely naked. With a clank and a thump, the side door of the SUV was slid open, and as the General looked over to the opened door, he saw the faces of a dozen women staring at him through the open door.

Gloria

After being imprisoned overnight in the basement of the old parish office building, Gloria returned to the hotel just after sunrise and took a short nap. Later, she met with Amber and Heidi who had just returned from Colorado Springs, told the two women of her terrible experience of being locked up, but rather than being angry, told her coworkers, that since this would be their last day in San Francisco, they could take a little time for themselves and come into the office later. Gloria then returned to the parish office building. On her way back to the office, Gloria sensed the day seemed to have a strange feel to it, like everything was out of kilter, an oddness, as if things were not quite the same. Still, in spite of the odd, strange feel to the morning, nothing seemed to bother Gloria, who was in an undeniable good mood, and even felt an energizing invigoration.

Unlocking the door, she found an envelope lying on the floor; apparently it had been slid under the door. Inside the envelope was a message from the parish office, wanting her and her team to vacate the offices immediately if not sooner. Gloria soon discovered the reason behind the sudden urgency when she listened to the news on the portable radio she brought with her. It seemed that a video of little Chantay propositioning Randy Hardwicke was playing on all the local morning TV news shows and the video seemed to be creating an uproar, probably the reason for the urgent memo from the parish office. Still, Gloria was not going to let the news bother her, at least until she found out more about, perhaps from Amber and Heidi when they arrived at the office.

Before her two co-workers arrived, Larry Doolan showed up at the office to drop off a receiver and tape recorder, which would pick up broadcasts from a microphone bug he said he had planted in Randy Hardwicke's apartment. Due to their mutual dislike of each other, Larry's visit was short, but long enough for Gloria to notice he had somewhat of a limp and a large bruise on his face. Larry set up the receiver, and informed Gloria, that while he had heard on the news about the video of Chantay, he did not know much more about it than Gloria.

Gloria also decided to call the General and touch base with him about the video of little Chantay's attempted seduction of Randy Hardwicke, and perhaps sooth the general's nerves regarding this matter. However, the general seemed to be extremely disturbed and preoccupied with other matters and relatively unconcerned about the video itself. His only response about it was that he could have spin-doctors work on the matter. The General's primary concern was to have Gloria and her team to expedite their departure from San Francisco.

Heidi arrived shortly thereafter, with the woman making a casual comment about being asked for money by homeless people on the way in. Gloria volunteered that she and the General had once discussed the homeless situation.
"You know…" she began to lecture, "Slavery and indebted servitude build this country. The Roman Empire lasted at thousand years because of slavery and the Nazis built a great empire in Europe using slave labor, until the Jewish bankers started making a fuss. The General pointed out to me that we would have a lot more homeless in the coming years, so why not use those people as a natural resource. The minute you become homeless you become a slave, and you can be sold to corporations, whoever needs free labor. Other countries may have their oil, but we will have the power of slave labor, lots and lots of slave labor. Other countries will have cheap labor, our labor will be completely free."
"That would make it harder for people to find jobs. It's not easy to find a job out there as it is," reported Heidi, "My boyfriend's a carpenter, he's been an apprentice for years and now he's finding it impossible to get anything other than a short term assignment."
"My dear Heidi," prattled Gloria, "Any barbed wire jumper from south of the border can pound a nail into a board. Perhaps your boyfriend should look into customer service or collections. If your boyfriend can't find a job, either he doesn't want one or God doesn't want him to have one. I think you should just get yourself a new boyfriend." Gloria continued, "It's just a matter of raising the rung. The American people will just have to work harder, they always do. I think using the homeless as slaves is an exciting concept, for instance…lying on the couch and having your shoulders and feet massaged by beautiful little blond children, having them run back and forth for you, catering to your every whim, like little cherubs."
"I think that's called child labor," commented Heidi.
"Oh no…you wouldn't be paying them anything, they would be slaves," corrected Gloria, "If you're trying to make a moral issue of that, it's already been decided by God. If people become homeless, that must be the way God wants them to be. Just like those of us who have money, that's because God wants us to have money. So, therefore God must want the rich to use the homeless as free labor."
Heidi smiled a defeated and lemony smile and nodded her head.

Heidi informed Gloria that Amber would be in later, their co-worker had gone shopping to pick up some gifts for some boys she worked with as a counselor. Gloria told Heidi they would not be at the office long. From Gloria's earlier conversation with the General, their departure from their parish office, as well as from San Francisco, was now an issue of extreme urgency. Apparently, the video of little Chantay propositioning Randy on a San Francisco street was being seen all over the country and one of the people who had seen the video was Chantays's mother, who, the General reported, was screaming about child abuse and threatening all kinds of lawsuits. So, an attempt was being made to placate Chantay's mother and the General wanted Gloria and her team to immediately disappear from San Francisco before being located by the local news media. The General had also told her that the news media had received the video from none other than Beef Matson, apparently the detective himself had filmed the scene.
"We were set up by that fag detective and his assistant," snapped Gloria, "We were victims of entrapment!"
Gloria also reported how odd and distracted the General sounded. Heidi was able to give her a possible reason for the General's behavior.

"On the TV news this morning, just before I left the hotel, I saw a news report about two naked men who were found at a scrap booking convention at the Moscone center. The two men were found inside of a SUV parked right inside the convention. How the SUV got in there is anybody's guess. They showed a video of the two men being taken out of the center, wrapped in blankets. One man had his head wrapped in the blanket but I could see that the other man was the General's assistant. Anyway, the women at the convention thought it was some sort of exhibit or maybe the SUV was going to be the prize in a giveaway, so some of the women decided to get a closer look, and then somebody yelled that there were some naked men inside which attracted a crowd of women who also wanted to see and when they saw the naked men lying there all tied up and naked in the back of the SUV, they panicked and started to run away and several of the women got cuts and scratches from falling over each other."
"Yes," agreed Gloria, "I imagine seeing our General naked would be one terribly unfortunate sight, indeed. The only image that keeps coming to my mind is that of a boa constrictor shedding it's skin, I could see how that would cause a panic."

Gloria put a bent finger to her lips in an almost delighted expression upon hearing this news about the general.
"One thing I heard on the news on the radio this morning, though it's not being mentioned any more, it was taken out of the later newscasts…was that the general and his assistant were tied together in one of those sex positions."
"Sex positions?" asked Gloria, "I don't understand."
"Well…it's a position that's perverted and people shouldn't talk about."
"Dear, how am I supposed to know unless you tell me, I'm not a child you know."
"It's one of those positions where people face…well, it's something terrible…" Heidi stammered, "It's disgusting…well, because…"
"Heidi, dear," admonished Gloria, "I really haven't got all morning, just give me a simple description."
"Well, it's what they call oral sex, the general and his assistant were tied naked, face to lap, face to lap."
"Oh my," Gloria began to chuckle, "The general…of all people." Gloria's chuckle turned into laughter, sounding like a tinny Santa Claus.
"In addition to that," continued Heidi, her expression becoming slightly mean, "The general had his assistant's underwear stuffed into his mouth and his assistant had the general's briefs stuffed in his mouth."
"No!" uttered Gloria, placing a hand to her chest and then immediately breaking out into heaving laughter, a string of 'ho's' that echoed off the walls. "Oh dear, oh my, "said Gloria, bending forward and leaning on the desk, "I shouldn't laugh…how terribly scandalous. Still, with the behavior that the general is rumored to be involved with, it was probably only a matter of time before something like this happened. But…we shouldn't talk ill of others, especially of our superiors." Gloria stifled another bout of giddy laughter under her breath. "We shouldn't worry about the general, he has a knack for making unfortunate bits of news like that totally disappear."
Gloria paused a couple of seconds staring off into space. "Still, this might be something for me to remember when I need to remind our little general of his responsibilities." Then Gloria offered a deadly serious comment, "The General's poor assistant…I imagine he'll proceed to have a string of incredibly horrible nightmares because of this ordeal. Being tied to the General when he's naked is not something I believe anyone could endure without a fair amount of emotional trauma."

"That could be why our General sounds a bit on the confused side this morning. Originally, he had told me that our efforts here were not cost effective, now, this morning, he tells me this morning that the source of our funding has disappeared. Apparently, the Defense Of Marriage Act, which provides our team with just about all of its funding, abruptly disappeared this morning."
"Defense Of Marriage Act? What's that?" asked Heidi.
"Who knows?" replied Gloria, "Perhaps something that came into the General's mind when he got tied up and thrown into the back of his SUV. Maybe he got popped on the head when that happened. Anyway, the General called Dr. Dobson and Hillary Clinton right away and told them to look into the matter and see if they could find out what happened to that phantom law and the funding connected to it. Supposedly they knew all about this DOMA thing and Dr. Dobson's Focus On The Family gets a lot of funding from it, so the General had the two of them frantically searching this morning to see what happened to it. Then, sometime later, both Dr. Dobson and Hillary Clinton lost their memory of the law as well. So, somehow, through some screw up, our team seems to have lost its funding overnight."

Gloria began tapping the fingers of her right hand on Heidi's desk, something like a caterpillar tap dancing.
"Uh…did you stop for coffee on the way in this morning?" asked Heidi cautiously.
"Mmm…no," responded Gloria, pulling her hand quickly from Heidi's desk, "I'm just feeling my oats this morning, nothing wrong with that. You know, our friend the general did not come through on one matter he promised to help me with. There was one young man I worked with on one assignment that totally misunderstood my desire to help him get closer to Jesus and he actually filed a sexual harassment complaint against me."
"No!" exclaimed Heidi with all the sincerity she could muster.
"Yes…" replied Gloria indignantly. "The company and I immediately decided to lay him off and the general and his people were supposed to come through with another job for him so that he would be…more quiet about things. Well, I found out that all that was done was to offer the young man a job half way across the country without giving him a means to relocate himself in another state. So he's still bouncing around in Colorado spreading rumors - uhhh! Now at least I have some leverage when I bring this matter up with the general again."

"It's a pity though that we have to close down shop here. If we had more time to work on Randy Hardwicke, if we really had him feeling total misery, he would have begun to engage in self-destructive behavior and we would have had him. When you deprive humans of all the joy and passion they feel about life, they turn inwards and become self-destructive and they will cooperate in their own destruction. It's like when zoo animals are overly confined, they begin to chew on themselves and pull out their hair or feathers."
"Gloria," asked an alarmed Heidi, "are you sure you're feeling all right?"
"Of course I am," Gloria flashed a puzzled look at Heidi, "I feel wonderful, exhilarated and energized. I haven't felt this good in a long time."

Gloria began to grumble about the negative reaction to video. "It's beyond me how anyone could be upset about a video showing our effort to unmask a child molester. With all the homosexuals in this town, why should anyone care what we do with one little girl? When people see me in that video, they should realize that I am simply an outraged Christian woman trying her best to rid this country of the homosexual vermin."
"Actually," revealed Heidi, "you're really not seen in the video."
"Heh?" said Gloria suddenly focusing on Heidi.
"From what I saw of the video…" continued Heidi, "You can only make out that Randy Hardwicke, and our Chantay and Amber. You and I are only seen heading into the SUV, neither of our faces are in video."
"Really…" replied Gloria, becoming thoughtful, "Only Amber is recognizable…well then…Hmmm." Gloria smiled a crinkled, alligator smile at Heidi, "Thinking about it, that video is probably not worth any of our anguish, besides the general told me that he will also work on having it suppressed or discredited. He said he may even get me on that colored girl…Oprah Winfrey's show, to discuss my efforts to unmask homosexual child predators."
Gloria stood at Heidi's desk for a few moments and then seemed to have a revelation. She instructed Heidi to keep monitoring the receiver which was supposedly getting transmissions from the bug Larry planted in Randy Hardwicke's apartment, as they might yet catch Beef Matson's assistant in the act of molesting a boy. As Gloria walked back to her office she remarked, "Only Amber is recognizable…hmmm," and picked up the phone to call the General.

Heidi turned on the receiver set up on her office desk and it immediate began to pick up something. However, it was just music, what seemed to be old disco music, mixed with some ballads from decades past. Occasionally, there were voices, but she could only understand a word or two. In addition to that, there was the sound of clinking glasses, laughter and other sounds like chairs being moved on a floor or doors being opened and closed. Heidi reported her findings to Gloria. "Sounds like you're listening to the inside of a tavern," opined Gloria, "this is perhaps another case of our Mr. Doolan falling off his wagon again. He may have lost the bug inside of some local watering hole or perhaps, for his own convenience put the bug in a bar instead of that Randy Hardwicke's apartment."

"Why, you unadulterated complete and total witch,"

As Amber entered the little parish office, she found that Gloria was waiting for her.
"Went shopping for some gifts, I see," observed Gloria.
"Yes," replied Amber, "For a few of the boys in the my counseling program."
"Counseling them…is that what you call it?" added Gloria, "There's no need for you to stay. You should just continue on to the airport. I talked with the General and you are no longer on our team."
"Excuse me…?" replied Amber.
"You are no longer on the team," repeated Gloria. "You thought perhaps that when you joined our team, that we wouldn't bother to do any background checks? Well, we found your behavior involved with your counseling activities to be incompatible with our standards."
"Excuse me…" queried Amber, "What behavior?"
"Oh my…" feigned Gloria, "Such innocence. You thought perhaps that your young friends, the teenaged boys you…counsel…would never report about your advances? The gifts, the dinners, the sleepovers? Sounds more like dating than counseling. The General decided that your presence on our team was reason for some unfortunate decisions that our team made regarding Chantay."
"Oh, I get this now," protested Amber, "It's that video of Chantay that's making the rounds on TV, that's causing the big uproar in the press. Having Chantay do what she did was not a team decision…it was yours."
"I always listen to the input of members of my team," responded Gloria, "Therefore, having a child molester on the team is obviously going to affect…"
"Why, you unadulterated, complete and total witch," interrupted Amber, "You live up to every little bit of your reputation, don't you?"
"Just exactly what is that supposed to mean?" snorted Gloria.
"It means that no one in his or her right mind can ever trust you. I have been on this team long before you showed up and if anyone had a problem with the relationship I have with the boys I counsel, they could have brought that up a long time ago. My background check was years ago, funny how it should suddenly matter now at this exact moment. The General didn't make any decision, it was you…you backstabbing…piece of…piece of…"
"I don't have to put up with any of this. You're leaving now. I want you to leave now. Goodbye. Goodbye."
"It is so not going to be that easy. I'm leaving, but before I leave, your ears are going to be tickled by some things you probably won't want to hear."
"I said goodbye…" repeated Gloria, almost musically.
"Don't be unhappy if I tell you this hasn't taken me completely by surprise. Just another of Gloria Pelson's famous ambushes. I've heard how you like to have people terminated at the companies that employed you…people come back from their lunch hour to find their belongings piled outside their office door, along with a security guard to tell them that their services are no longer needed and they have five minutes to get off company property. Having that feeling of power gives you a rush, doesn't it?"
"Whatever you say you have heard is of no interest to me. I believe in decisive action, in getting rid of people who are not team players, slackers, lacking in moral standards…"
"Spare me that verbal diarrhea of yours. What this is really about is the new order you middle aged and elderly babes are trying to impose on the rest of us, trying to reverse the natural order of things, with you old gals wanting to replace younger women as desirable sex symbols. Let me tell you…that ain't gonna happen, young wants young, old wants young. No man wants to waste his genes on some old biddy's dying vagina. How moralistic you doddering relics are about saving the youth from predators, yet whenever a new young male joins our church, the way you old praying mantises paw on him, it's like fresh meat being served up. Oh, and how you ladies shuffle we younger females off to be chummy with those whiskered walruses you call husbands. We're told how we should defer to the church elders and grace them with our company. Yeah, as long as those disgusting, disintegrating hulks are hanging onto the younger women, they won't be crawling on top of you. I've heard your views about prearranged marriages…how great they are, and it wasn't so long ago our church members were arranging marriages for their kids as soon as they hit puberty. Molesting teenagers is okay as long as it involves a church marriage? None of our little adventure here in San Francisco had anything to do with moral outrage about gay men dating each other…it was just about your sexual frustration of not being able to get any of them to climb on top of you. Don't you find it the least bit ironic that the only person who's interested in jumping your bones is that strange Bessie person and her pathetic obsession with older mother figures?"
"Don't try to drag me down to your moral level."
"Moral level…moral level? What a laugh! You don't have a moral level; you're a bottomless pit. All you care about is your ambition; your concerns about morality are all relative to that. You think I haven't noticed how much time you spend sitting in your office ogling those photos you have of that detective Matson wearing some skimpy swimsuits?"

"For someone who's a sexual predator of teenaged boys, you're in no position to discuss morality with anyone."
"Oh really…I think your stepladder of morality is just a bit shaky, old girl. I've heard how much you like the young ones. Though in your case, you feel the need to dress it up as Bible study. You honestly think none of those guys were really aware of what you were really up to when you were rubbing up against them or grabbing a feel here and there while you're reading a Biblical passage to them? At least I'm honest. I like the young ones because of their fresh faces, young smooth bodies, and the control that I, as an adult, can have over an immature mind, how they have to obey me because I'm an adult and do exactly as I want them to. It's like going back to high school and having all the boys who ignored me when I was in high school, because now, I'm an older babe that they want, and those high school boys are always so horny. Besides, I'm turning the boys onto women at an early age, isn't that what our team is supposed to be all about? Getting boys to focus their sexuality on women? I thought that was what you wanted."
"You are pathetic…"
"Pathetic…? I prefer to think I'm honest. At least my tastes don't drift towards the incestuous. That's another thing I've heard about you…how your son couldn't wait to go to college, and he picked a school that was as far away from you as possible. I've also heard those rumors about what he told the counselors at our church, and a few other people as well, how distressed his mother was making him, how his mother was trying to push him into a relationship that mothers aren't suppose to have with their sons. How his mother was even crawling in bed with him, telling him how emotionally needy she was, how your big thrill was to pinch him till he squealed, how you wanted him to let you hurt him, how it pleasured you to hear his squeals."
"Shut your mouth…" Gloria growled, "You're trying to make something dirty out of a mother's love…our church got rid of that politically ambitious counselor, she had to take her rumor mongering some place else".
"Now I could understand how you could have so much love for your son…" continued Amber, "your husband's gotten rather afflicted with that middle aged spread, and since he doesn't like to shave anymore, he's got a beard right out of the Old Testament…a face full of hair with bits of food stuck in hit, pretty disgusting, if you ask me, plus I've heard that the two of you have never really gotten along that well. Now, your son is sort of a younger version of your husband, no beard, young, athletic, tight body…so if you're tired of your husband, I could see how you might see your son as a convenient alternative."
"You impertinent slut…" Gloria breathed out the words with pure anger. Then she quickly slapped Amber across the face. Amber tilted back her head for a second in response to the stinging slap, pausing, then automatically responded with a slap of her own to Gloria's face. Pausing again for an instant, Amber heaved a deep breath and slapped Gloria twice again for good measure. The glare of an enraged beast filled Gloria's face. "I will have you arrested for assault," she exclaimed.

"Oh yes, please do call the police and have me arrested for assault. Then, out of my Christian and civic duty, I'll just have to mention to them that video tape that's making the rounds of all the TV stations, that video that stars our little Chantay propositioning a man on the street, like some preschool whore, well, I'll just have to mention to the police that all the credit for that little scene should go to you, after all, you're the one who thought it up. Considering the public uproar about that tape, I'm sure police might want to ask you a few questions regarding child abuse, not the sort of publicity our little Gloria would want, would she? Since we're in San Francisco and not back home, you don't have your network of preacher friends here to intercede on your behalf and save your scrawny ass."

Gloria, her face red not only from the sting of Amber's slaps but also from rage, nevertheless regained her composure. "I believe you should just leave. There's no point in you digging a deeper hole for yourself than you already have. No one speaks to me like that without consequences. Just leave." Without saying anything further to either Gloria or Heidi, Amber dialed for a cab on her cell phone, gathered her belongings and waited outside for the cab to arrive. Heidi, who had been stealing glances at the confrontation, quietly closed the door to her office and sat for a while trying to calm her nerves.

Moments later, Gloria was on the phone again with the General. "Yes, she's gone. A dirty business, but things like that are necessary sometimes, aren't they? It did feel good to finally tell her what I thought of her. Exposing Amber will help placate Chantay's mother, to explain to her how perhaps things got out of hand. Amber's fascination with teenaged boys will be a great convenience for us; whatever allegations of child abuse there might be can now be easily shifted to her. Yes, that just leaves Heidi and myself in the office and I will shortly send her on her way. That leaves things open for my private meeting with Bessie, giving that woman her instructions, and then I will be on my way back to Colorado Springs. There will be absolutely no trace of my team in this office. It will be like we were never in San Francisco at all. I wouldn't worry about those lawyers and courts, General. While judges may have their black robes, you have tanks at your disposal."

"I just so totally agree with you, General, that having the fag Matson and the dyke Starr meet with unfortunate events, will serve to reinforce the traditional notion that homosexuals often come to tragic ends. Your idea of having someone from within his or her community to do the dirty deed is brilliant. This way our detective and lawyer won't be perceived as martyrs, merely victims of a dysfunctional lifestyle. Any possible problems with Bessie? Absolutely not. I will simply give her a little pep talk and then send her on her way to meet with your people, who I understand are quite the professionals when it comes to supplying motivation to receptive individuals. Frankly, if our little Bessie were any more the compliant, passive doormat, she'd be a zombie." Gloria laughed a wicked little laugh.

"Romper stomper bomper boo, tell me, tell me, tell me do. Magic mirror tell me today, did all my friends have fun at play?"

Still rather shaken, Heidi turned on the receiver again and tried concentrating on the music coming from it, to see if she could make out any voices. All Heidi really wanted now was for this assignment to end and for her to be away from Gloria, far away. Suddenly a voice came from the speaker of the receiver, that of a young man, "Romper stomper bomper boo, tell me, tell me, tell me do. Magic mirror tell me today, did all my friends have fun at play?" The voice continued cheerily, "Let's see who I can see in my magic mirror today. Oh, I can see Heidi and Heidi is not very happy because Gloria has been very naughty today."
An ice water chill flowed down Heidi's spine. She froze, listening to the voice from the speaker.
"Let's see what else I can see in the magic mirror. Oh, there's Heidi again and she's being naughty too. I see her at one of her neighbor's houses on Flintridge Drive, staring through the bedroom window of a teenage boy. Is that because he's so pretty without his shirt?"

Exactly where Larry Doolan placed the microphone bug was shown in Chapter 9. Click on button to go to Chapter 9.

Heidi felt compelled to speak. "I heard in the neighborhood that he was homosexual. The women in the neighborhood were keeping an eye on him to make sure he wasn't bothering any of the children in the neighborhood."
"Is that really so, Heidi? Oh, I can see Heidi in the magic mirror again. She must think no one can see her because of all the bushes around the window, because while she's peeking through the window at the boy in his briefs, she's got one of her boobies hanging out of her blouse and she's playing with it. Oh my, Heidi, that's really naughty."
Heidi froze, gripping the armrests of her chair tightly; it felt like the hair on the back of her neck was standing on end.
The voice continued. "Oh look what I see now in the mirror. It's the parents of the young man installing a video camera in his bedroom facing the window. Oh, my, my, my, my. Look at all the times they're catching Heidi at the window and Heidi's being very naughty when she's looking in the window. Oh, now look. The parents are giving the tapes to the police. I'm afraid when Heidi gets back home, the police will tell her she's not been playing nice."

Suddenly, Heidi hit the erase button on the tape recorder and then gave the receiver a very hard push off the desk. It hit the floor with a bang; it's case shattering and becoming silent. A few moments later, Gloria looked in, actually looking concerned.
"Are you all right, dear? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"
"No, I'm fine. The set slid off the desk and I tried catching it, but…"
"Oh, never mind about it," dismissed Gloria, "accidents happen. I heard voices. Did you start getting something?"
"Uh…ah," stammered Heidi, "a commercial, I think all the set was picking up was a radio station."
"Oh, of course," replied Gloria, "should have known better than to rely on our little Larry Doolan. He may have just stuck that bug to the underside of some bar stool or lost it somewhere and all you were going to do is to waste your time listening to static and picking up radio stations."
Heidi smiled and heaved a slight sigh.
"Just throw that thing into the trash," instructed Gloria, "I wouldn't worry about it. The worse accounting will do is to deduct cost of the set from your paycheck."

Gloria headed back to her office, and then suddenly appeared again in the doorway of Heidi's little cubicle. "You might just as well as pack up everything of yours and just leave. I'll have to stay a bit longer before I leave. Our little friend the General just gave me another call and I guess the peanut butter's really hit the fan. It seems a big uproar has developed locally over that tape suggesting child abuse regarding Chantay. The General was going to put the kibosh on the tape through his media connections, but now he tells me that the people he knew who were in positions of authority in the media, no longer seem to be in those positions anymore, some of them even replaced by fags. Supposedly those people he knew were supposed to have been in positions that have been occupied by other people for years. I think our dear little General's just having a bad day."

Gloria paused a couple of thoughtful seconds. "With all the homosexuals in this town, why should anyone care what we do with one little girl? Instead of complaining about what we were trying to do, I think people's energies would be put to better use if they worked to have homosexuals registered as sexual offenders. Then the homosexuals along with the rest of the sexual offenders could be put in camps or isolated on some islands somewhere away from everyone else. This business with our very own Amber makes me wonder if children should not be raised by certified professionals, away from their parents and everyone else who might molest them. Perhaps all children should be taken from their parents to compounds where companies could be contracted to professionally raise them to be good heterosexual Christians. We could also require people to have a permit in order to have sex. People would be required to state with whom they're going to have sex with, why and when. If you don't have a permit to have sex, and you're discovered having sex, you go to jail."
Heidi began struggling to keep herself from shaking.

"The General also wants us to leave San Francisco as soon as possible since the city is talking about getting the local district attorney's office and social services involved. I mean, where are their priorities? This city allows gays to adopt children and all we were trying to do was to show them the hazards of involving homosexuals with children." Gloria paused a moment in thought and spoke again. “I guess the lesson learned here is that our activities in the future will have to in a more secure area and away from snoopy camera lenses." Gloria paused again. "Perhaps if we had taught Chantay how to caress Mr. Hardwicke's private place, maybe that way we would have gotten a reaction out of him and that's what would have been on the video."
"Gloria!" protested Heidi.
"Oh yes…" responded Gloria, "I may be going a bit too far. You know, Dr. Dobson does suggest that gay men respond to the advances of an older women, a mother figure. So perhaps if I had caressed Mr. Hardwicke's genitals, that might have at least stirred heterosexual cravings in him, prompting a homosexual cure…"
"Gloria, "insisted a very stressed out Heidi, "I probably need to get my things together and go."
Gloria cocked her head and dismissed Heidi with a wave of her hand, "Oh yes, please do. I imagine you'll have people waiting for you at the airport when you get back to Colorado Springs."
"People…?" gasped Heidi, "What people…who will be waiting for me?"
"Why your friends and relatives, of course," responded a puzzled Gloria, "Who else would there be?"

Moments after Heidi had left the office, a courier delivered a small envelope for Gloria sent by the General. The office now deserted except for her, as Gloria waited for Bessie to arrive; she began to pull folders from her desk to place in her briefcase. She paused with the one marked "Matson" from her briefcase quietly. "Yes, once all the homosexuals like you are declared sexual offenders, you will no longer have any rights, we will be able to do whatever we want to you and we will place sensors connected to every private part of that body of yours…and we will find out all of your secret desires…and do whatever we want to you experimenting at ways to correct your sexual orientation. You will have no personal privacy, you will no longer have control over your own body, every part of your body will be exposed…and poked…and prodded…at our whim. We will choose your friends, your associates…you shall be refocused on women…" Gloria began to hunch her back and mold her face into a haunted expression, "You shall…" There was a loud banging at the front door. Gloria yelped out at the interruption, "Drat!" She quickly threw the photos back into the folder. "Then again Mr. Matson, you might avoid all of that through an abrupt death."

It was Bessie at the door, she had arrived very punctually. Gloria was as cordial as she could be to someone she found totally repulsive. Gloria briefed Bessie on her assignment and it's importance, not only to her personally, but in the overall greater scheme of things, of protecting women, children, and of a world that should be well ordered and controlled. Gloria stressed that her people viewed Bessie’s assignment as so important, that they had arranged for Bessie to have a little bonus. Gloria pulled an envelope from her briefcase and gave it to Bessie.

Very excited and shaking, Bessie clumsily fumbled with the envelope containing the money and one hundred dollar note fell to the floor, near Gloria's foot. Bessie immediately fell to the floor, on her hand and knees to retrieve the bill. As she stuffed the note back into the envelope, Bessie suddenly leaned forward and put her face up to Gloria's foot, her tongue darted out of her mouth and she began to carefully lick the top of Gloria's shoe, looking very much like a very big dog, her large jeans clad behind shaking as she licked Gloria's shoe. A complete feeling of revulsion came over Gloria, still she resisted the desire to yank her foot away, instead allowing Bessie's display of total submission, even feeling somewhat exhilarated by the display of an adult prostrate at her feet. Bessie then quickly returned to her feet, deliberately brushing her face against Gloria's skirt at she rose, folded the envelope and stuck it into the pocket of her flannel shirt. Gloria quickly repositioned herself behind her desk and away from Bessie.
"Now, you go to that address that's inside the envelope and the men there will give you your instructions for the little assignment we have for you. I'm sure you will do a very good job for us, as you always do."

Gloria let Bessie know how busy she was and that she really needed to get back to work and with some minor pleasantries, coaxed Bessie to leave and be on her way. Smiling, shaking and bowing, Bessie finally left.
"Oh dear," muttered Gloria to herself, "that woman does so give me the absolute creepy crawlies." The woman began dropping files into her briefcase, looking at them as she did. "Mr. Hardwicke…Mr. Matson…and Ms. Starr. I do believe some bullets and a little gasoline might just be a more effective way to deal with nuisances."

********
'Are you having one of your moments? I've heard about your moments. Is this one of your moments?'"

Matson left his office early to hand deliver a check and his personal thanks to Berry Starr for her services on Randy's case. A cold rain pelted the private investigator's older but very reliable compact car as it headed down the freeway for the thirty some mile trip to the lawyer's house near Stanford University. There wasn't much traffic on this messy night; Matson thought he even saw random snowflakes mixed in with the rain hitting the windshield. The inside of the car was warm, Beef had his jacket off and the drive was effectively relaxing him. The detective was sipping on a soft drink and station on the car radio was playing occasional Christmas songs to which the teddy bear air freshener, hanging from the dash, seemed to sway back and forth to. The detective began to feel jolly, happy with the world, pleased that his assistant had been cleared of charges. Yet, Matson had a gnawing feeling that Randy's case wasn't entirely played out.

When he had talked with Berry Starr that afternoon, she mentioned that she and her partner, Bobbi would be having some friends over for a little get together. Matson envisioned a very pleasant night, Berry would be in a good mood, the check he was going to give her, along with a gift he had for her and Bobbi would add to their celebration. It would be a very pleasant evening. When Matson pulled up on the street where Berry's house was, it was clear that from the number of parked cars, the get together was actually a large party; the detective ended up parking a distance away. The moist air was heavy with the scent of wet grass and evergreens and the detective's breath formed little white clouds as he approached the house carrying a gift-wrapped package under his arm. As he neared the front door, Matson could hear many voices and the pounding beat of music.

The lesbian costume/pajama party at Berry and Bobbi's.

Berry Starr answered the door. She had a cocktail in her hand and was dressed in a frilly, low cut French maid's costume.
"Wow, exclaimed Matson, peering into the house jammed full of women, "If this is your definition of little get together, when you throw a party, it must be something on the scale of a Mardi Gras." Behind Berry, Matson could see most of the other women were also dressed in costume. "Is this some sort of belated Halloween shindig?"
Berry laughed, "Isn't my outfit just the most delightful thing?" She made a 360 degree turn, showing off her costume. "I feel so absolutely girlie in this. I picked this out at Tic and Tac's vintage clothiers and rented it for our party. Supposedly, it was worn in some movie back in the 1930s or forties. I got Bobbi, the most outrageous gown, looks like something Morticia Addams would wear, except it's white and silver. Oh…you don't know about our holiday sleep over party. It started years ago as our holiday party and some of our guests started sleeping over…you know, then not having to worry about getting a DUI driving home. The party evolved into a lesbian pajama party and then pajamas evolved into whatever costume the ladies wanted to wear."
Matson looked into the living room, there were women dressed in a variety of pajamas and costumes, such as a veiled harem girl, a Viking woman, a cowgirl and so on, including a woman who was dressed up in a teddy bear costume, who kept bumping into things because she couldn't see out of the costume's head very well, and another woman dressed up in pajamas resembling something a small child might wear, complete with a bottom flap, which had unbuttoned and fallen open. The pounding beat of techno dance music was reverberating off the walls, some women were dancing and some foam rubber balls were being tossed around the room.

As she led Beef into the house, Berry had to raise her voice to compete with the noisy party, "What's this I hear about a gay holiday celebration that turned into a near riot in the city?"
"Near riot? From what I've been able to gather, mostly a near nothing," answered Beef, "Probably just some queens getting a little too much holiday spirit under their belts and started dancing in the street. I went to bed early that night and missed whatever it was."

Snippets of lively conversations drifted from the crowd.
"…the new temp came to see me so she could let me know that she thought we had lesbians working in the office. I told her to let me know immediately when she thought she found any."
"…our Ms. Vicious, the receptionist, took the day off and while she was gone the carpet cleaners moved her desk. When they did, one of her desk drawers opened up and Walgreen’s fell out. That woman had more uppers and downers in her desk than a roller coaster, and most of the prescriptions weren't even made out to her. Our manager took the pills and left a note in the drawer saying, see me, we need to call the Betty Ford clinic."
"…Then, really loud so the whole office hears, she says, 'Are you having one of your moments? I've heard about your moments. Is this one of your moments?'"
"…I thought I was having a really good day until I met with a client and complemented her, telling her what lovely and provocative earrings she was wearing. She gave me a really irritated look and said, 'That's my phone".
"…I asked her why she hadn't submitted her parts of the report yet. She tells me that she works better in a mostly male environment. So I told her that since none of the rest of us were planning to get a sex change operation, she better get cracking."

Berry finally gave up on trying to have a conversation with Matson in the foyer, competing with the noisy din of the party, also finding the occasional foam balls bouncing off her head a distraction. She led the private investigator into the sunroom she called her study and closed the doors, which muffled the sound.

"Thankfully, Bobbi and I only have a party like this once a year, so the neighbors seem to tolerate it," reported Berry. "If we get too loud, all that happens is that the lady who lives next door will stand in her driveway and stare at our house. She always wears the same bathrobe and pink fuzzy slippers, and if the weather's wet, she'll wear galoshes. The middle aged guy who lives catty corner across the street will stand in his picture window and watch our house, but other than that, no one complains."

"Some of the ladies this year wanted to hire a stripper. The stripper they wanted to hire is noted for her ability to spin a tassel on one of her boobies in counter clockwise direction, while spinning the other boobie in a clockwise direction…and she's also noted for the rpms at which she can spin her tassels. A truly amazing and talented woman. However, when Bobbi heard of the stripper idea, she put the damper on the whole thing. She was afraid that someone would leave the drapes open and the guy across the street would see the whole thing, have a stroke and paramedics would have to peel him off his picture window. Oh well."

"It seems like there always ends up being something unexpected and exciting that happens during one of our pajama parties," added Berry.
"Unexpected…how so?" asked Beef.
"Oh…one year a piece of construction equipment left on the front lawn of a house being remodeled down the street caught fire, lots of flames, looked worse than it was…fire trucks all over the place. Then a couple of years ago, a garter snake got in the house somehow. I ended up standing on the living room sofa with a bunch of other slightly inebriated women screaming like a bunch of sillies. Bobbi, of course, took a picture of us on the sofa; we looked like that picture of the Marines raising the flag on Iwo Jima. Then she just grabbed the snake and released it outside. Things like that just give me willies, but those critters, snakes, spiders and moths don't bother her at all. Bobbi had a ton of prints made of that photo, wouldn't you know."

"I was going to discuss some information that came into my possession with you," revealed Matson, "but well, tonight's probably not the right time, it can probably wait until after the holidays…it would be best if I verified the information first anyway."
"Whatever," responded Berry, taking another sip of her cocktail, "just give me a call when you're ready."

"Well…" said Matson, reaching into jacket pocket; "Here's the main reason I wanted to make the trip down here. The check for your services in Randy's case. Thought it might be nice for you to have some extra cash flow right smack dab in the middle of the holidays. Let me know if you have any more expenses and I'll get another check off to you. I've sort of kept this from Randy, but that little guy's got more friends than he realizes. I had a number of people who wanted to give money to help with the expenses in his case. And plus…" Beef put the package on Berry's desk, "Here's my Christmas present to you and Bobbi, and it’s sort of a collaboration from a couple of businesses in my building and myself."
Berry carefully opened the package with curiosity.
"It's a lipstick lesbian Barbie doll, from Minerva's shop," said Matson, "she told me somebody in San Francisco makes them."
"Oh, she's magnificent, just beautiful," cried Berry, peering through the cellophane window of the boxed up doll, "Bobbi will just love her."
"In the envelope taped to the box you'll a gift certificate for a nice formal dinner at the Ruby Slipper," added Beef, "and I added the two theater tickets for a show downtown. I know with some of the issues you've been having with your mother and so on…that it might be nice for you and Bobbi to have a nice evening on the town."
"Well bless your little private investigator heart," said Berry, kissing Matson on the cheek, "Bobbi and I could really do with some rest and relaxation."
"How is your mother doing, by the way?" asked Beef.
A very serious look came to Berry's face. "Well, you know… It's just a one-day at a time sort of thing. The doctors keep telling me that Alzheimer's is a progressive illness and they're limited as to what they can do. I was also told that, as a care giver, I'm supposed to be aware of my own needs…watch my stress levels, realize there's just so much I can do." Berry shook her head. "Whatever. It's like gradually watching someone go away without physically leaving." Berry paused again. "Earlier this week, mother was having a hard time remembering who I was." Berry paused again; sucking on her bottom lip, then quickly took a sip of her drink and changed the subject.

"Actually…" confided Berry, sighing, "I'm quite happy that this whole business with Randy is easing off. For a while there, things really seemed to be getting out of hand. The threats, the phone calls, emails and so on…were getting a bit old. And just so much of it was irrational. For instance, I got a phone call from some very agitated woman who wanted to let me know that she and her friends were prepared to form a protective guard around their local day care center in case we homosexuals tried to storm the building, trying to get in to molest the kids. I told her to go refill her prescription. Then, one day when I went in to my office I found all these storage-moving pods arranged across the entrance to our building. When I asked who in the building was moving, it turned out no one was moving. In response to bomb threats, building management had rented the pods to place them across the entrance to prevent someone from driving a truck bomb into our building. Amazing, simply amazing. Then I had to get my windshield repaired because somebody threw a concrete block on it. You know how long it takes to get a windshield repaired? Forty-seven minutes. Ten minutes to actually replace the window and thirty-seven minutes for the repairman to talk to his girlfriend on his cell phone.

That whole business of having that little girl dress up like some miniature whore and proposition Randy on the street, that has got to be a monumental case of what were they thinking. I don't even want to try to get into the mind of whoever thought that one up. I can't begin to comprehend the mindset that comes from, what…did they think there are pre-school prostitutes hanging out on the streets, or they were actually going to seduce our Randy with some little girl? I can't imagine what sort of confusion they've put in that little girl's mind. Thankfully, your video brought a very bright and glaring spotlight on whatever is going on with those women and that little girl."

"Oh… and while I'm thinking of it," added Berry, "I've got a couple of gifts for you and Randy." Berry walked over to a leaded glass cabinet and, stooping down, opened the wooden doors at the bottom and retrieved a couple of wrapped gifts. "Go ahead, open yours," she said, pushing one of the packages towards Beef. Matson quickly removed the holiday wrapping. "I had a couple of caps, black corduroy, embroidered with your agency's name on them, one for you and one for Randy."
Matson picked up one of the caps, marveling at it. "Way too excellent," he exclaimed, "This'll be awesome for field work. Don't know if I'll be able to get Randy to wear his…he tends to be kind of shy about stuff like this, but I'll work on him."
"Speaking of Randy," added Berry, "His gift is a signed set of Patricia Nell Warren's Front Runner Trilogy. She graciously donated a signed set to a fundraiser I was involved with some years ago and gave an extra-signed set to me. I'd like Randy to have it…I wanted him to have something extra special and fine to help offset what has probably been a miserable holiday for him so far. I'll leave your gifts here in my study, don't forget to take it with you when you leave, of course, you're such a stickler for detail, I know you won't."

Berry wanted Beef to chat with Bobbi and to have something to eat and drink before he left. Berry opened her study doors and the cacophony of the party poured in.

"I should warn you that Bobbi's just a bit stressed out. All the preparation for the party, you know, plus some things did not go right, my mother's been a handful this week, our houseguest, Sheila, been getting under Bobbi's skin a bit and some of our guests have decided they needed to get on her back as well. On top of that, Bobbi's been sucking down the coffee trying to get everything done, with the end result being that she's a bit too wired. My strategy is to wean her away from the coffee and onto something with alcoholic spirits in it. So if she's a bit short with you…it has nothing to do with you. I'm just trying to get her to realize that the party's going wonderful, everybody's having tons of fun…she just needs kick back and enjoy it herself with a hot toddy or a spiced wine."

On their way to the kitchen, through the noisy living and dining rooms, Matson noticed Berry's mother, quietly sitting in a chair in the living room, dressed plainly in a house dress, a slightly confused, though mostly vacant expression on her face. The detective noticed that they passed the woman; she made no acknowledgement of Berry. Matson also noticed two women sitting on the floor in the corner of the living room, playing with a young child who seemed to be in awe of all the costumed grown-ups around him.

Berry and Matson found Bobbi in the kitchen surrounded by a number of other women. Bobby was dressed in a slinky and stunning silver gown glittering with sequins, however, looking fatigued and frazzled as she tried to deal with the requests of the other women.
"Bobbi…" called out Berry, "look who's here."
"Oh, hi Lynn…" Bobbi flashed a gentle smile towards Matson, and then her attention was directed back towards some trays of food, while the other women in the room wanted to exchange greetings with the detective. Berry introduced Matson to the women in the kitchen and to one young woman who was preparing to open the refrigerator.
"That's Sheila Levy," informed Berry, "she's our house guest from New York. You've talked with her on the phone. Sheila is helping us understand the concept of being eaten out of house and home."
Sheila smiled, waved and turned her attention back towards the refrigerator and began digging around in it, much to the dismay of Bobbi. Another woman was pulling some dishware from a kitchen cabinet.
"No, these plates will be fine," the woman said to Bobbi, "no need to pull out your finest china for us. Whatever you use everyday is fine with me, if all these little chips and dings on the plates don't bother you they won't bother me." The woman headed back towards the living room with the plates.
"Meow?" asked Bobbi, turning towards Berry.
"Meow." affirmed Berry.

The other women in the kitchen turned their attention back towards Bobbi gathering trays of appetizers from her, while Bobbi at the same time, was trying to restrain Sheila Levy from raiding the refrigerator. One of the women called out to Beef Matson.
"You really need to sample some of Bobbi's appetizers before you go," advised the woman. "Whatever she makes is pure heaven, but if she offers you some of her jalapeno popcorn…" A gale of giggles arose from the women in the kitchen. "Make sure you pass on the jalapeño popcorn," continued the woman, "unless you want to have a very long and interesting drive back to the city." The women continued to giggle, with Bobbi lifting her eyes to the top of her head, looking as if she was about to shoot steam out of her ears.

"Oh, her jalapeño flavored five alarm popcorn," squealed another woman. "Not something you want to make when you have a houseful of women and your house only has two bathrooms." The giggles began to turn into laughter. "Not that it wasn't tasty…" explained one woman, "it was salty and buttery with a bit of a tang to it. It's just that after you ate a bunch of it, you realized that someone had just laid some land mines in your digestive tract." Matson was left with a perplexed expression on his face while the women howled. "It's like this, honey…" explained one woman sipping on a highball, "One year Bobbi experimented and come up with some jalapeño flavored and spiced up popcorn. Was like having a weapon of mass destruction hidden in your lower G.I. tract. You're suddenly repeating like a howitzer. Everybody gobbled up tons of the stuff…then, well. Let me tell you, kid, the lines very quickly formed at the bathrooms." "Yes," added another woman, "We were even thinking of hanging sheets for privacy screens around the bushes in the backyard." "It wasn't that bad," complained Bobbi. "We're only teasing…" countered one of the women, "You should be proud of yourself, inventing an instant cure for constipation. Have some of Bobbi's jalapeño popcorn and you're regular with a bang!" Bobbi sauntered over to the sliding glass door in her clinging silver gown. "I'm going down to the basement to get a case of soda," she opened the sliding glass door, "Sorry, but we have an old house and the entrance to our basement is in the backyard." Bobbi slammed the sliding glass door behind her.

Hurt, angry and over-stressed, Bobbi leaves for the basement.

"Oops," said one of the women, "I guess we went a bit too far."
"There is such a thing as too much teasing, you know," replied Berry, "She's been working very hard to put the party together, mostly by herself. You'd be hard pressed to find someone else who can do what Bobbi does as well as she does it."
The other women looked a bit guilty and began leaving the kitchen. "We only tease her because we love her," said one of the women.
"Bobbi just needs a little time to herself and she'll be back upstairs," assured Berry.
"Oh dear, I'm afraid they pushed her a bit too far. Bobbi will sit in the basement for awhile and sulk," Berry confided to Matson, "After a while she'll cool off, come back upstairs and be as good as new. Though I may need to go downstairs and help her with that case of soda."

Berry folded her arms watching Sheila continue to explore the refrigerator. "You know," she addressed Sheila, "There's a woman in my office who has an appetite just like yours. She's four months pregnant."
Sheila continued her searching on the lower shelves of the refrigerator and then suddenly froze. She turned with a look of alarm on her face. "Oh, no, no, no," she exclaimed, "Moi…moi? Don't even think that. Like I mean I would have to had to have done something to cause that…and I'm pretty sure I would remember that." Sheila turned back into the refrigerator and grabbed a couple of platters, then balancing the platters, headed towards the living room. "I'm not that way at all…you can see what a rail I am. It's just that I don't normally get to eat this gourmet, your Bobbi's top in her class as far as goodie making goes."

The many distractions and the noise from the party made it difficult to have a conversation with Berry in the kitchen. At one point, someone increased the volume of the stereo so that the beat of the techno music was poundin