Sometimes Quickly

by Anne Laughlin

  “You may possibly be the first woman who’s ever said that,” Morgan said. She followed Laura to the back of the house and into an enormous kitchen. It took up the whole of a rear extension to the house. Everything looked about as expensive as it could be. It didn’t tax Morgan’s detective skills to figure out that Laura’s work was more rewarding than just the advancement of science and the betterment of the human race.

  Laura pointed to a cozy sitting area. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge and give me a few minutes to get dressed. I’m sorry I’m a little late getting ready.” She was wearing tan pants and a shimmery blouse. Morgan thought she was already dressed for the date.

  When she came back into the room, Morgan tried to keep her jaw from flapping open. Laura stood with a coat over her arm and bag in hand, looking very much like Grace Kelly in Rear Window. Her dress was the same mint green, simple and elegant. She was glad she’d made a reservation at the new supper club in Boystown, because Laura was wearing a supper club dress.

  They drove north to Boystown and spent a few awkward minutes in silence. Morgan couldn’t think of a thing to say. She felt like she was drunk, with none of her thoughts coming together as comprehensible. Finally, Laura turned to Morgan. “I’ve been nervous about this date.”

  Morgan looked at her in surprise. “You have? Why? God, no one has said anything about me, have they?”

  Laura laughed. “Um, no, but now you have me curious. Do you have a bit of a reputation, Detective?”

  Morgan smiled. “Maybe. But only with those who don’t know me well. Please disregard anything you might hear.” She glanced at Laura, who looked amused. “I beg of you.”

  “I’m not much for rumor and gossip, so don’t worry. I imagine this has to do with how many women you’ve been with. That doesn’t bother me.”

  Morgan turned east on Addison. They drove in silence until they reached Wrigley Field. It was a dark Friday night in December, and still tourists were out in front taking photos. She looked again at Laura, who seemed perfectly composed. “I’m glad you said you were nervous about tonight. Frankly, I’ve been petrified. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a real date.”

  “It’s been forever for me, too. I’m pretty boring, actually. All I’ve done the last few years is work, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to lighten up anytime soon. It’s amazing I’m here this evening.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, then.”

  They ate a supper club kind of dinner—martinis first, then steaks and potatoes au gratin, salads with dressings in a lazy Susan on the table, and, after the meal, stingers. Morgan expected Frank Sinatra to walk by at any moment, or Kim Novak. It didn’t seem like a place gay men would like, but there were couples everywhere, many of them on the dance floor.

  Morgan scooted out of the banquette and held her hand out to Laura. “Let’s dance.”

  A jazz quartet played on the small stage near the dance floor, the vocalist, a drag queen, of course, singing one standard after another. Morgan took Laura in her arms and led her around the floor, as if she knew what she was doing. Every minute spent with Laura had increased her confidence, turned her fear into excitement. She pulled her just a tiny bit closer.

  “Tell me why you work so much.”

  Laura smiled. “It’s not healthy, I know, but it can’t be helped. We’re set to launch the software I told you about, so there’re all the last-minute issues and problems that go along with that.”

  “Is everything going as well as you’d like?” Morgan was interested, but not as interested in software as the feel of her hand at the small of Laura’s back, or the way Laura looked her directly in the eye. She tried to concentrate.

  “What I hope for is perfection. What I’ll get is something less than that, of course. But given that, it’s all been fantastic. We have our final presentation with the FDA next week, and we should get the go-ahead shortly after that. Then, when we start selling the product, I’ll turn the reins over to someone else. I’m not much for managing things.”

  “The only thing I’ve ever managed is a drug bust,” Morgan said.

  As they moved slowly together, Laura stepped in a little closer. “Our worlds are pretty different, aren’t they?”

  “About as different as they can be.”

  “Does that bother you?” Laura asked.

  “What, that you’re a brainiac and I’m a street cop?”

  Laura cocked her head in question. “Is that what you think I am?”

  “A beautiful braniac. But let’s face it. We’re not in the same league in the smarts department.” Morgan avoided her eyes.

  Laura stopped dancing and looked at Morgan until she returned her gaze. “I think we’re in different departments of smart. I wouldn’t survive one day on the street doing what you do, and you’d die of boredom doing what I do. I promise there’s a lot to know about me beyond what I do, beyond being a science geek.” She caressed Morgan’s cheek. “And I want to learn all about you. You fascinate me, and you’re sexy as hell, as if you didn’t know that.”

  Morgan laughed. “That sounds promising. Where do we start?”

  Laura led them back to their table. “The same place every lesbian couple starts on their first date: when did you come out and what was your last relationship like?”

  Morgan stared at Laura, who was studying a dessert menu that featured Bananas Foster and Baked Alaska. “I’m wondering if we’ll end the date the way every lesbian couple does.”

  “Do you mean the sleeping together part or the falling in love part?”

  Morgan grinned. “I have to admit it’s the sleeping together part.”

  Laura leaned back on the seat and took a sip of her drink. “We’ll have to see, Detective. We have some stories to exchange before we get to that point, don’t you think?”

  Morgan didn’t miss the flirtatious tone, or the hint of a promise behind it. “Order the Baked Alaska. We’re going to be here a while.”

  Chapter Six

  Saturday, December 5

  Tim McNally loved his job at Bardon Systems, but the hours were brutal. Camille insisted he personally handle all sensitive matters, which left Tim’s staff with too little to do and him with too much. It was a little better since Camille hired Sam to help with surveillance and other less sophisticated tasks. He knew Camille contacted Sam for some of her special projects, and he was grateful not knowing anything about those. But all hacking, all investigations, were part of Tim’s bailiwick.

  He was on his way to Jersey City from the Newark airport to interview Jim Braddock. He’d finally gotten hold of him the day before and got him to agree to an appointment in his office. As the cab pulled up to a squat, two-story office building in a marginal neighborhood, he got a better idea of the type of lawyer he was. The only thing Tim really cared about was whether Braddock had anything on Peg Ryan that he could use to break up Ryan and Allison Mitchell. Nothing short of that was going to get Camille off his back and free him up to go back to the work he loved—hacking for information from unsuspecting corporations and selling the information to particularly avaricious ones. He hated it when Camille’s love life blew up. Everything else fell down the priority scale until she exacted revenge for whatever wrongs she imagined were brought upon her. Sometimes he placed a ding in the woman’s credit record. Sam broke into their homes and left black leather gloves behind. Hacking into a work computer and installing virus land mines were favorites. This was the first time that Tim had seen a hint of desperation in Camille’s actions and the first time she’d wanted the woman back. It wasn’t Allison she was targeting but Peg Ryan. He hoped no violence would be involved.

  He entered the building and looked at the directory bolted to the wall. Letters had fallen off half the names on the board. He walked up the wide staircase to the second floor and down a long, silent hallway to Braddock’s office. His name was stenciled onto the translucent glass of the outer door. The secretarial station in the front room of the
office was empty and covered in dust.

  Jim Braddock rose from behind his desk in the private office and gestured Tim inside. He was a handsome man who’d let himself go. His face was sallow and saggy, his large gut and broad hips straining his polo shirt and shapeless old chinos. His was not the look of studied casualness. It was indifference and neglect. A full ashtray on the desk shared space with a Daily Racing Form. There were no papers or files or other tools of his trade on his desktop. He reached across the desk to shake Tim’s hand.

  “Mr. McNally, I presume.” Tim nodded. “What can I do for you?”

  Tim sat in the folding chair in front of the desk. “I represent a party who’s interested in learning what they can about a lawyer you once worked with, Peg Ryan.

  Braddock leaned forward, interest in his eyes. “Worked with her and went to law school with her. We go way back.”

  “So I understand,” Tim said. “That’s why I’ve come to you. If there’s something to learn about her past, I figured you were a good place to start.”

  Braddock reached into a drawer, brought out a fifth of Wild Turkey, and poured a generous amount into his coffee cup. He gestured to Tim with the bottle. “Want some?”

  It was ten in the morning. “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “What’s your interest in Peg? Is she being vetted for a new job?” Braddock took a drink from his cup and lit a cigarette. Tim felt like he was in Sam Spade’s office.

  “My employer is certainly vetting her, but I’d say it’s to do with removing her from a position she’s recently taken. To be frank, Mr. Braddock, we’re looking for leverage.”

  Braddock’s eyes were steady on him. “I’m listening.”

  “From the information we could get from the Internet, we noticed that there was a long gap between the time she worked with you at the U.S. attorney’s office until the time she started working again. My gut says something happened there, and I’m hoping you can tell me what that is.”

  Braddock looked like he was trying to hide his excitement. He dragged on his cigarette and drank more whiskey.

  “I have to ask, as you might have anticipated, what’s in it for me?” he said.

  “Of course. There’d certainly be something going your way, depending on the nature of the information you have. I can’t negotiate price until I know what, if anything, you have on her.”

  “I understand that,” Braddock said. “And I think I have something that will interest you very much. First, though, I want to know what it is Ryan did to piss off your boss.”

  “That’s not relevant.” The room was cold, and Tim resisted the urge to put his topcoat on. Outside, he could hear the steady sound of large trucks passing in front of the building, thunking along as they hit the potholes in the street. He looked back at Braddock.

  “It may not be relevant, but I want to know. It’s a prerequisite for us moving forward.”

  Tim pretended to consider the matter. He didn’t care if Braddock knew what’d pissed off Camille or not. But he made it look like he was giving something up by telling him. “This information is extremely confidential. My boss is quite sensitive on this point due to the nature of the problem. Do I have your word this remains between the two of us?”

  “On my word as a lawyer,” Braddock said. Tim doubted his word or his law license meant much to him.

  “How do I characterize this?” Tim mused. “Let’s say that Peg Ryan appropriated my boss’s girlfriend and we’re looking to rectify the situation.”

  Braddock threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, that’s rich. All these years have passed and you’d think I was talking to a third year law student about Peg Ryan stealing away his girlfriend. It never changes, I guess. In law school, at the U.S. attorney’s office. She was the biggest tomcat around.” He seemed to be enjoying himself. “Is your boss male or female?”

  “Female. And mad as hell. I’m a little surprised Ryan had such success with women. I heard she had a serious drinking problem.”

  “She did, that’s true. But she was young and held her liquor well until the last year she was there. You could see it was catching up to her. She was missing work, forgetting things, pissing women off.”

  “I’ve been told you were no fan of Peg Ryan’s. What do you have on her, Mr. Braddock?”

  Braddock took another hefty drink of the whiskey. “It was hard to like Peg. She always got everything she wanted. Nobody knows what a bitch she really is.”

  They sat in silence for a minute as Braddock appeared to be searching his memory. Finally, McNally said, “If what you have on Ryan is significantly worse than the fact she was a drunk, my employer will make that information extremely profitable for you. And frankly, Mr. Braddock, it looks like you could use a cash infusion. Tell me what you have and we’ll work something out.”

  “I’ve got something on her, all right, and it’s way worse than her booze problem. Let’s say for now she committed a felony and has been hiding it all these years. The crime was bad enough that I was able to force her resignation and take her job. The rest of the story will cost you, and you need me to be the one calling her on it. I’m leaving tonight on a trip out of the country that I absolutely can’t get out of. You’ll have to wait three weeks to put any plan in motion.”

  “That’s not going to work for us,” Tim said, thinking what Camille’s reaction would be at anything being postponed three weeks.

  Braddock looked confident. “I’m sure you’re going to be willing to wait once I tell you enough about this story to get your interest.”

  By the time Tim left New Jersey that afternoon, he’d reported to Camille that his trip was a success. She was pleased, despite the enforced wait. The information Braddock would provide would allow them to blackmail Peg Ryan for a mistake she’d made eighteen years ago. It should be enough to hobble her new relationship with Allison. Ryan would be forced to break with her if she wanted to hide her past. If she didn’t, there probably wasn’t anything to be done to break them up short of killing them. And that was Camille’s department, not his.

  *

  When Morgan opened her eyes, she didn’t see her own nightstand crowded with bottled water, her service weapon, and the paperback book she was into the second month of reading. The walls weren’t painted the bright white chosen by the previous owners of her condo. She wasn’t slightly overheated from her navy blue flannel sheets. Instead, her gun was the only thing on the nightstand next to her, the walls were a shade of green she couldn’t begin to describe, and the source of heat came from the body wrapped around her from behind. Laura’s pale, freckled arm lay across her, the hand lightly cupping her breast. Her confusion cleared and she was instantly aroused. It was a nice way to wake up.

  “I can hear you thinking,” Laura murmured, her lips to Morgan’s back. Her voice was throaty. Sexy.

  “Can you hear what I’m thinking?”

  Laura’s hand held her breast more firmly. “No. Would I be alarmed?”

  “I hope not. You don’t have to be as smart as you are to guess what it is,” Morgan said. She turned over so they were facing each other. “Are you okay about last night?”

  Laura smoothed Morgan’s brow with her thumb and kissed her. “It was unlike anything I’ve experienced.”

  “For me, too.” She lay back on her pillow and pulled Laura into her arms, mostly so she didn’t have to look into those kind but slightly mischievous eyes. It was too intense before her first cup of coffee. “I don’t want to blow this.”

  “What makes you think you will?”

  “Everything? I have a lousy track record.”

  Laura looked up at her, her eyes questioning. She shifted and lay on top of Morgan. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. “Not for a little bit, anyway.” They kissed deeply, and Morgan felt her anxiety slip away as her arousal spiked. They must have had a dozen orgasms between them during the course of the night. She wanted a dozen more.

 
“When can I see you again?” Morgan asked.

  Laura smiled. “If you have the energy for it, how about tonight?”

  Morgan moved her arms down Laura’s body, pulling her closer. “I have plenty of energy. Especially right now.”

  “I’d love to stay and make love all day, but I really have to get to the office.”

  “On a Saturday?”

  “I work most Saturdays,” Laura said. “This one in particular. We have the FDA presentation coming up, and I have an office full of employees getting ready for it. I need to be there with them.” She moved off of Morgan and got to her feet. She laughed at the pout on Morgan’s face.

  “Why don’t I figure out your coffeemaker while you get ready?” Morgan said. She was crippled without her morning cup.

  “I don’t have a coffeemaker.”

  “What?” Morgan said, as if Laura had just announced she had no toes.

  “I don’t drink coffee.”

  “What?”

  Laura laughed. “I see it’s true what they say about cops and coffee. I think there’s some instant in the cabinet. I’m not sure.”

  Morgan made a face. “I’m not that desperate.” Laura was standing naked in front of her, the weak December sun falling across her body. “I should go. You’re in a hurry.”

  Laura reached for Morgan’s hand. “I’m sorry this feels rushed. It won’t be so bad after the product launch.”

  Morgan pulled her in close. “It’s okay. Every minute I have with you is more than I had before.” She kissed Laura deeply, knowing she’d already become completely at her mercy.

  *

  Camille waited impatiently in the cell lot at O’Hare. It was early evening, and the number of planes taking off and landing seemed like an invasion. Tim’s flight had just arrived. She’d have to wait a bit more before driving to the terminal and scooping him up on the fly. The traffic cops were absolute Nazis if you parked in front for more than a second. She went back to her new car’s owner’s manual to continue setting up her sound and Bluetooth system. She’d just picked up the Jeep Wrangler that morning. It was a whim, something to shake up her executive image. Maybe she wasn’t fun anymore. Maybe that’s why Allison left her.