The Temporary Detective

Chapter Thirty-Eight

It was Isobel who finally broke the silence.

"I, uh, just came in to get out of the rain. I don't have an umbrella."

James pointed to her hand. "What do you call that?"

Isobel looked down, "Oh. Right. I just bought it. I guess I forgot."

"I know why you're here," James said.

"No!" Isobel shook her head vigorously. "I'm not an alcoholic!" Water from her hair spattered his face, and he coughed gently as he wiped it away.

"You were following Conchita, right?"

Isobel stared, dumbfounded. "How did you-?"

James took her arm and pulled her to her toes to whisper in her ear. "We have to talk. About a lot of things. Come on."

This was Providence, James thought, as he steered Isobel back outside, up Park Avenue South and into the same diner where they had eaten and fought the week before. On his way to the meeting, he had begun to get nervous about revealing his innermost fears to an unfamiliar group, even with Conchita as backup. The decision had been made for him; he would save it for his home group on Sunday, in Bill's comfortable presence. Another decision had been made for him as well: he would set things right with Isobel.

A few moments later, they were squeezed into a corner booth amid the additional layer of commotion that accompanies a rainy lunch hour.

"You haven't said a word," James commented. "That's not like you."

"I'm trying to figure out whether you were following me or Conchita."

"Aren't you overlooking the obvious?" James closed his eyes, opened them and spoke again, holding her gaze steadily. "I'm an alcoholic."

"Oh!" Isobel's eyes widened for a moment, but she quickly tamed them.

"So is Conchita. I came to this group last week and my sponsor introduced me to her."

"So you did come back to follow her!"

"Not exactly. There was something on my mind that I wanted to share. It's kind of complicated, I'd rather not go into it."

Isobel's brow wrinkled with concern. "But you're missing the meeting."

"This is more important."

The time had come to explain and apologize, but somehow that was more daunting than admitting he was an alcoholic.

"Can I take your order?" asked a cheery voice.

"Two grilled cheeses and two Cokes," James said.

Isobel smiled. "You remembered."

"I also remember that you were pretty bitchy to me," he said, and immediately wished he hadn't. But Isobel looked down at her hands and shook her head.

"I know. And I'm really sorry." She looked up at him again. "Especially because you were right about Nikki."

"I know. She was arrested for Doreen's murder."

"How did you find out? It wasn't on the news."

"From Ginger. Remember, Nikki used to work for Temp Zone."

"Well, she was arrested, but not for the murder," Isobel said. "She was embezzling money from the bank and her boyfriend in Equities was investing it."

"So, up to her old tricks," He tried not to let his satisfaction show. "But she didn't kill Doreen?"

Isobel shook her head. "I don't see how she could have. I saw her going down the stairs during the emergency drill. She might have had time to double back, but she seemed genuinely intent on getting out of there, and I think I'd have seen her when I was running around looking for the bathroom."

Their sodas arrived, and Isobel took a sip before continuing. "There's more. Doreen was blackmailing almost everyone in the office."

Unfortunately, James had also just taken a swig of Coke, and he inhaled sharply, choking and spluttering.

"What?" he croaked out finally.

Isobel handed him a folded piece of paper from her wallet. James opened it and scanned the contents while Isobel talked. "That's why I was following Conchita. Obviously, Doreen knew what Nikki was up to, but I couldn't figure out why she was blackmailing Conchita. When she told me she was going to noonday Mass, I just didn't believe her. I had this hunch that if I followed her, I might figure out what Doreen had on her."

"Looks like you were right," James said, his throat returning to normal.

"I was also having trouble figuring out what she had on Stan, but then my brother looked at the numbers and realized that she was actually paying him that $5,000." Isobel leaned over and pointed. "See how Stan's line is separated out? All the other amounts add up to $5,000." Isobel shook her head. "But what I can't understand is why he needs that kind of money."

James folded the paper carefully along its lines and handed it back to her. "I can help you there. Stan is a transsexual. He's saving up for a sex-change operation."

"Here are your sandwiches. Can I get you anything else?" chirped the waitress. "Miss? Miss? Are you all right?"

James leaned over and patted Isobel's hand. "She's fine."

Isobel shook her head in astonishment. "Wow. Oh, wow. That explains why their marriage didn't work out."

"Must have been a bummer on their wedding night."

"But Doreen must really have cared about him. She got him the job, she was helping him raise the money for the operation..."

"And Conchita didn't approve of Doreen indulging Stan's baser desires."

"On top of which, Doreen was blackmailing her because she was an alcoholic. For a woman of that age in the Hispanic community, especially one so ostentatiously pious...well, it sort of ruins her image, doesn't it?" Isobel pointed out.

He nodded. "It gives Conchita a double-whammy motive."

Isobel picked up her grilled cheese and set it down again without taking a bite. "It's just too weird, too coincidental that Stan is transsexual. You know, Frank is married and in the closet."

"What?! How on earth did you find that out?"

"He was looking at a gay porn site on his computer." She held up a hand defensively. "I wasn't snooping! He asked me to do some archiving, but he forgot to close his browser." She smiled sheepishly. "I recognized one of the models."

"Excuse me?"

"From acting class!"

James put his hands over his face for a moment, and then looked back at her. "Wait, when did you have time to go to an acting class?"

"I skipped lunch Tuesday and Wednesday to make up for the-" She gasped and jumped up. "I completely forgot! I told Frank I'd only be gone a few minutes. I'm not supposed to take lunch at the same time as Conchita. Paula's in charge now, and she's looking for any reason to cut me loose!"

"Paula's in charge?"

Isobel chattered on as she pulled on her raincoat. "She and Stan were both up for Frank's job, and Doreen was pushing for Stan because she hated Paula and vice versa, but once Nikki got arrested, Frank called up the head guy and recommended Paula, even though the guy's really conservative and doesn't approve of women in management!"

"But Isobel, there's more I have to tell you-about the woman who answered my phone the other night..."

"Sorry, James, but I've got to go!" She took one last, frantic bite of her sandwich, then grabbed her coat and umbrella. "I'll call you later!"

It was the second time she'd run out on him at this diner. He looked across at the empty chair opposite and spoke the words he had been wanting to say ever since their last lunch together.

"It was all a big mistake. I'm sorry."

"No problem," said the chirpy waitress, who had appeared out of nowhere. "Would you like your check?"