Crime and Retribution

by Nic Saint

  “Always,” he said with a bright smile, and dived into his magazine again.

  “So do I think Mariana was a fraud who just wanted to bilk the trans community? Let me put it this way, I don’t think it started out that way. I think she genuinely felt bad in her own skin, and thought transitioning was the right thing to do. And while she was at it, she found a vibrant and supportive community, and felt accepted and loved for perhaps the first time in her life. And then when the money started flowing in, she just couldn’t help herself. So do I think she planned it this way? No, I don’t. And I do believe she was sincere about detransitioning, not just for the money and the attention but because she felt it was the right thing to do. It’s rare, but it happens.”

  I gave my brother a look of triumph. “See?” I asked. “Mariana wasn’t a crook after all.”

  He shrugged. “He acted like a crook, ergo he was a crook. The rest is perception and semantics. No offense, Marelda.”

  “None taken, Calvin.”

  “So did you always know you wanted to be a woman?” he asked.

  She smiled. “Why don’t we discuss it over dinner? Bill’s Grill? Eight o’clock?”

  “I’ll pick you up,” he said.

  Chapter 27

  When we were back in the car, Calvin looked a little dazed. “I can’t believe I just agreed to go out on a date with that woman—that man—that woman—that—Aargh! I’m so confused!”

  “I can’t believe it either,” I said with a giggle. “I guess it’s true what they say about instant karma, huh? It can happen to anybody.”

  “Not to me. Not to us. We don’t create karma.”

  “Well, looks like you did this time. At least now you’ll be able to lift the curtain on this whole transgender thing. Literally.”

  “Hell, no. I’m not lifting that curtain. Nuh-uh. I’m not lifting anything.”

  “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

  “Nope. Not one bit.”

  “You could be our intrepid journalist, reporting from the trenches of the intriguing world of trans.”

  “You report from the intriguing world of trans. I’ll just have my steak and fries and get the hell out of there.”

  “No kissy kissy?”

  “Not a chance!”

  At least Marelda had given us our next lead. Turns out her friend had been dating an insurance broker. A male insurance broker. It didn’t take long for Lucien to set up an appointment with the guy, and then we were on our way.

  “Brunat & Sons,” said Calvin pensively. “I don’t think I’ve heard of them.”

  “Looks like they’re in the same business. You and this…” I checked the name I’d scribbled on the back of my hand. “Neptune Brunat should have a lot to talk about. How to sell life insurance. How to date a transgender woman.”

  He cut me a look from beneath lowering brows. “Coming from the woman who tried to bribe the cop with a kiss.”

  “And a cronut,” I said. “Don’t forget the cronut.”

  “That’s where you made your first mistake. You should have given him a donut. Everybody knows that’s what cops feed on. Looks like this is the place.”

  We were driving down Lake Street, where Bell’s Bakery was located. On the corner a shingle announced here we would find old man Brunat and his sons. The insurance company was on the ground floor, neatly wedged in between a flower shop and an antique store. A couple emerged from the building, seen out by a thick-set man with a chubby, clean-shaven face, dressed in gray slacks and a blue shirt and wearing a slightly stupid grin on his face. He glanced in our direction, and I had the impression we might have found Mariana Piney’s demon lover.

  I waved at him through the windshield and, after a pause, he waved back, his vacuous smile widening. We got out of the car and walked up to the man.

  “Neptune Brunat?” asked Calvin. “Calvin Diffley. Diffley & Sons.”

  “And daughter,” I added stubbornly.

  “Oh, hi,” the man said pleasantly. “Come on in. my dad told me all about Diffley. You guys pretty much corner the market on life insurance, huh?”

  “We do our best,” said Calvin. “And we have been around for a long time.”

  “So he told me. Said Diffley is one of those names that’s revered in insurance circles.”

  “I wasn’t even aware there were insurance circles,” I said.

  “Oh, sure,” said Neptune, leading us inside his office. “I go to conferences all the time. And then there’s the monthly meetups at the Chamber of Commerce, the Rotary Club, the Happy Bays Country Club, the mayor’s Angels of Commerce—giving new start-ups in the area a mighty boost—and of course the Lake Street Shopkeepers Association. Though I don’t remember seeing a Diffley on any of those.”

  “We like to keep a low profile,” said Calvin. “Give the competition a chance to prosper.”

  “That’s… very generous of you,” said Neptune after a slight hesitation.

  “As much as I would love to talk shop—and believe you me, I could talk insurance until the cows come home, their signed policies in paw—ha ha.”

  “Ha ha,” said Neptune, taking a seat and inviting us to do the same.

  “—that’s not actually why we’re here,” Calvin concluded.

  “I figured as much,” said Neptune. “So there’s no sense for me to try to sell you on our premium life policy, huh?”

  “If you did, my brothers would never speak to me again. Ha ha.”

  “Ha ha ha.”

  I was starting to think insurance humor was possibly the lamest kind of humor I’d ever heard, if it even qualified as humor at all. I hadn’t laughed once.

  “All pleasantries aside, we’re here to ask you about Mariana Piney,” said Calvin, folding his face into an expression of appropriate solemnity.

  Neptune nodded with equal solemnity. “You were Mariana’s insurance broker. I should have known when she interrupted my sales pitch three times in a row. She told me she had it covered and now I see she had.”

  “She most certainly did,” said Calvin.

  “This is a claims investigation.”

  “It most certainly is.”

  “Well, all I can tell you is that Mariana was a great person. We went out a couple times. Had a swell time. But nothing serious ever came of it.”

  “I see,” said Calvin. “So you and Mariana weren’t… an item anymore?”

  “No, we were not, sir,” said Neptune. “We broke up about two weeks ago. Though to break up you need to have been something in the first place. Which we weren’t.”

  “Had you kissed?” asked Calvin.

  Neptune seemed taken aback by this abrupt switch in the line of questioning. “Um, yes, we had.”

  “Second base? Third?”

  “Uh…”

  “Calvin,” I said warningly. “You’re doing it again.”

  “What? I’m just curious.” He gave Neptune a knowing look. “I find myself in the same situation as you.”

  “You do?”

  “I’m going out with a transgender person tonight, and I’m just trying to lay down the groundwork here. Do some recon, if you know what I mean.”

  I could see Neptune stiffening, and I wondered if he even knew Mariana had once been Mariano. But finally he nodded. “Yeah, I could see how that would be awkward without some advance knowledge.” He shrugged. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Diffley.”

  “Calvin, please.”

  “We did some kissing and some…” He directed a quick look at me. “Some more, but it never got beyond that. To be honest, when Mariana told me she was a transgender woman I was surprised at first. I would never have suspected it from looking at her. She was gorgeous. And very feminine.”

  “How did you meet?” I asked.

  “Tinder,” he said, nodding. “But don’t tell my dad. He’s old-fashioned. Doesn’t go for all this online dating crap as he calls it. He met mom in high school and figures all couples should meet the way they did.
I keep telling him high school’s out for me, and it’s kinda hard to meet a woman when you’re working full-time.”

  “What attracted you to her?” I asked.

  “Her profile picture. She had such a great smile I just had to meet her.”

  Now it was my turn to smile. I liked this guy. He seemed nice. “So why do you think things didn’t work out with Mariana?”

  He shrugged. “Beats me. I thought things were going great. That we had great rapport, you know. We talked and talked—into the wee hours of the morning. But then suddenly she stopped taking my calls, didn’t answer my texts. Until finally she wrote she met another guy, and would I please stop calling her. So I did. I was actually pretty shocked to hear she died. She did not deserve that.”

  “Do you have a name for this other guy?” asked Calvin.

  “No, I don’t. But they probably met on Tinder. She was big on the app.”

  “Can you tell us where you were two nights ago, Neptune?” asked Calvin.

  “Home. Just ask my folks. I still live with them. In an apartment over the garage. But we usually spend the evenings together. Watching The Walking Dead or Game of Thrones. Or a ball game.”

  “Brunat & Son watching the game together, huh?” asked Calvin.

  “Damn skippy,” said Neptune with a wide grin.

  “I like the guy,” I said as we returned to the car. “I don’t think he did it.”

  “He was home with his folks, watching the game with Brunat Sr. There’s no way he did it,” said Calvin.

  “I think this mystery lover did it. This new guy. We have to figure out who he is. Why don’t you ask Marelda when you see her tonight?” I suggested.

  He halted, his hand on the door handle. “I forgot all about that. What if she asks for a kiss?”

  “Women don’t ask for a kiss, Calvin. We kinda expect it.”

  “What if she comes on to me? Or asks me to come in for a nightcap?”

  I laughed. “I’m sorry, buddy. You’re on your own on this.”

  He stared at me over the roof of the car, his face incredulous. “You’re not going to help me out?”

  “Nope. You got yourself into this, you get yourself out. But I’m warning you, be nice to the woman. Don’t be your usual jerky self.”

  “I’m not a jerk!”

  “Maybe not, but you sure act like one most of the time.”

  “Take that back.”

  “I’m not taking it back. Ask anyone. You act… jerkisly.”

  “That’s not even a word.”

  “I’m sure Merriam-Webster will make an exception for you.”

  We got into the car and Calvin seemed at a loss. “So now what?”

  “Now we do some shopping and get home. I promised Grandma I’d help her fix dinner, and you have to get ready for your hot date.”

  “Oh, God,” Calvin groaned, and started up the car.

  Chapter 28

  “I don’t get why it’s me again that has to fix dinner,” I complained as I peeled the potatoes. “Can’t any of the others do it?”

  “Of course they can, but I wanted to have a little chat,” said Grandma. “Just us girls, without the boys.”

  Well, it was true that with five men in the house—make that four boys and one little monster—there wasn’t a lot of time for girl talk.

  Grandma was rinsing the lettuce. We were going to dine on the deck tonight, seeing as how the weather allowed it, and there was no reason to be cooped up inside when we could be outside instead.

  “What did you want to chat about?” I asked.

  “Whatever! How is life as an agent? How is the case going? Is Calvin treating you all right? And how are things with Detective Logan?” Her eyes were gleaming with anticipatory delight. Grandma liked to be on top of things, and whatever happened to her brood she wanted to know.

  “Well, so far the case is going nowhere fast. Calvin is an idiot but so far I’m bearing up under the pressure. And I have no idea what’s going on with Detective Munroe as he made it perfectly clear when I last saw him that he wanted nothing to do with either me or my family.”

  “Ouch. Is that a literal quote?”

  “I’m paraphrasing, but I think I got the gist of it.”

  “And he seemed so promising,” said Grandma, clucking her tongue.

  “Men,” I said with a shrug. “You never know what to expect.”

  “So that kiss didn’t help things along, did it?”

  “How do you know—” Of course. If Calvin, knew, everybody knew.

  “Kissing a cop in the middle of a crowded bakery pretty much guarantees you town-wide coverage, honey. I think I heard about it even before you stopped kissing him.”

  “Which was very quickly. It was only a very quick kiss. And only to convince him that I was a great kisser. Cause he disparaged my first kiss.”

  “Oh, so there was a first kiss, huh?”

  “Yes, but that was an accident. I wanted to get back at Calvin for telling me not to get involved with Logan.”

  “Logan. Such a nice name. And was Logan convinced? About your technique?”

  “He said my technique was fine. He had a problem with us getting involved in the investigation.”

  “Oh, that thing again. He’s like a dog with a bone on that topic.”

  As if summoned by the word ‘bone,’ Jerome came ambling into the kitchen, glanced up at me with his sad eyes, and plunked down at my feet. I threw him a potato, he sniffed at it, and then emitted a mournful whine. Nope. He wasn’t getting what he wanted either.

  “Do you think I need to keep trying with Logan, Grandma?” I asked. “Or simply drop the whole thing?”

  “Keep trying what?” she asked with a slight smile.

  “You know. Keep trying to convince him to cooperate.”

  “Oh, is that what you kids are calling it nowadays.”

  “Grandma. I’m serious.”

  “So am I. Look, honey, Logan is a man, and men are notoriously slow. By the time he realizes what happened at Bell’s, he’ll be kicking himself for treating you like a bad penny. You know, for turning up uninvited wherever he goes.”

  “I’m not a bad penny,” I said with a frown.

  “I didn’t say you were. I said Logan treated you like one.”

  “Well, actually he said I only kissed him to try to get information from him about the investigation. And us Diffleys can’t buy him the way we bought the Mayor and the Chief of Police.”

  “My dear. That’s very rude.”

  “I thought so, too. Though I think he regretted it the moment he said it.”

  “Still. I think he needs to be taught a little lesson, honey.”

  “Calvin pretty much said he was going to kick his ass.”

  “He said that? Oh, dear. That can’t be good. Calvin is not an ass-kicker.”

  “He said he couldn’t allow anyone to call his little sister a prostitute and our family a bunch of crooks.”

  “Still. I think Logan might just be a size too big for him to take on. He better take Dalton along. And Brice. And maybe even Lucien. Dalton can hold Logan down, while Brice beats him up and Lucien and Calvin take turns pulling his hair.”

  “Grandma!”

  “I’m just joking, honey. Did Calvin honestly think he could beat up on a cop? He’s crazy. You know what you should do? You should solve this mystery all by yourself, that would show Logan what you’re made of. And your brothers that you’re a force to be reckoned with in the company. Why they haven’t changed that name…” she added with a shake of the head.

  “They said they need the uncles’ approval first.”

  “Rubbish. This is our company. The uncles got nothing to do with it.”

  “Why aren’t you a member, Grandma? You’re a Diffley.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m a Blunt who married a Diffley. Only true blue Diffleys join the firm.” She smiled. “I’m not an agent, honey, though I’m mighty proud your grandfather entrusted me with the family secret, the same
way that one day you’ll confide in your husband.”

  My cheeks reddened. “Husband? Do you really think I’ll have a husband one day?”

  “Of course you will. And not just any husband either. He’ll have to be made of the right stuff.”

  “Do you think… that Logan…”

  “Do I think Logan is that kind of man? Too soon to tell, honey. So far he strikes me as an ass. Then again, he’s a man. What can you expect?”

  Just then, there was a loud creaking sound directly overhead. Moments later, a large object tore its way through the ceiling and crash-landed on the floor, right next to Jerome, who gave the object scant attention. I frowned at the object, and saw that it was one of Dalton’s dumbbells.

  “Dalton! You nearly killed us!” Grandma bellowed.

  “Sorry about that!” Dalton yelled back through the hole. “I dropped it!”

  “I can see that!”

  “Hey, Saffron. Hey, Grandma,” said Dalton, giving us a cheerful wave. “Hey, Jerome.”

  In response, Jerome emitted a loud fart and went right back to sleep.

  Over dinner, Lucien made a big announcement. “I’m not going to transition.”

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “I’ve decided it’s too much of a hassle,” he said. “I’ve been looking things up online and I’m going to need surgery.” He shivered visibly. “I hate needles.”

  “You also need to inject yourself with those hormones,” said Dalton.

  “Yeah, I discovered that this morning when I opened the package.”

  “You didn’t even inject yourself? So why did you even show me your chest this morning?!” I cried.

  “I thought that just the thought would have an effect! You know, through the power of positive thinking and all of that stuff.”

  “If the power of positive thinking had an effect on boob size I would have Sofía Vergara’s chest right now,” I grumbled.

  “And now you’ve gone and bought yourself this costly package,” said Grandma, tsk-tsking freely. She might support her grandchildren in whatever they wanted to accomplish, but she hated wasting money.

  “I’m going to donate it to TransCent,” said Lucien. “They need it more than I do. Besides,” he added, looking down his shirt. “I don’t think I’d look cool with boobs.”