notes/disclaimers
Alienated Affections #7 :Simple Affection
by Silvina
--This is not my idea of a good time--
--Garbage, "Not my idea"
"Samantha, come on. I'm dying here. Yeah, I had somebody, but she fell
through. Look, it's just for a couple of days, I'll pay
you out of my own pocket. . . . . . I'll be right with you. . . . .
Look, look, Sam, school gave you allergies because somebody
was grading you. This time you're gonna be the one doing the grading.
Thanks for nothing. Elaine!"
"I'll do the job."
"I don't even know who you are."
"Actually, I believe you do."
"I'm sorry, I don't."
"Ray, it's me."
"Fraser?"
He wondered if it was normal to spend a significant amount of time
feeling out of sorts. Then again, it wasn't normal that your
best friend, your male best friend, dressed up like a woman -- and
looked good, too. And it probably wasn't normal for your
first girlfriend to be a nun either. When you threw in disco, a cellar
full of loot and teenage girls, a line was crossed into
weirdness. He'd taken to calling it the Fraser zone.
"You're not going to fool anyone in drag."
"Well, I fooled you, Ray."
"Ah, this is crazy. I know I'm in a bind and I need some help, but
this is going too far."
"Well, I'm sure if the situation were reversed you'd do exactly the
same for me."
"Not in a million years."
"Really?"
"I'd never be caught dead in drag."
"Well, there's nothing to be ashamed of, Ray. In fact, certain tribes
in the northwest - Tlingit believe a man should experience
life as a woman in order to be a better husband-"
"All right, all right. Okay, but it's only because I'm in a bind. Now,
I'll run it by Sister Ann and if she says it's okay, then we'll do
it, but if anyone gets wise, it just wasn't my idea. Do you
understand?"
"Understood. Oh, one other question. Do you think teal is my color, or
should I lean towards mustard?"
"Who cares?"
"Well, I do."
Teal? Mustard? What the hell happened to simple color names like
blue and yellow? What kind of color is 'mustard' anyway?
"Fraser."
"Hm humm?"
"Aw, you're not even listening. What are you doing back there?"
"Well, I'm changing and I'm reading Celine's diary. Listen. 'The scent
of pungent flowers drifted into the crypt like gossamer
lace as my love took me into his powerful arms and made love to me.'"
"The girl's a poet."
"Hm humm."
"What is going on back there?"
"Well, let me tell you something, Ray, I think that the person who
invented panty hose should be brought up on charges of
cruelty, sadism and reckless endangerment. They pinch in the most
inappropriate places."
"Yeah, well, most people who wear em don't have those places, Benny."
"Another run."
"What else does the diary say?"
"Um. 'Cries of ecstasy burst from me as the fire had branded the
depths of my soul with a love that could never be quenched. I
gifted him with a treasure of gold and time and he gifted me with his
love.'"
"I'm no English major, but that stuff is so purple I'm getting
diabetes."
"You just mixed a metaphor, Ray."
"Yeah, well, I said I was no English major. Well, it sounds like to me
if we find the guy with the powerful arms, the
unquenchable fire, that's the guy who has her."
"Well, yes, I think you're right."
"Now, did she say anything else about the guy, like height, weight,
hair color, distinguishable marks, that sort of thing?"
"Ray, it's a diary, it's not a police report. However, I did notice
that the handyman, Todd, was wearing a watch-- and not just
any ordinary watch, Ray, it was a vintage 1930 Automeris-piquet, moon
phase chronometer in 18-karat gold. Only 100 were
made."
"Yeah, she gifted her lover with time and gold."
"Precisely."
"All right, I'll go check out this Todd guy while you make out your
report."
"Right."
"Oh, and Benny, before I drop you off?"
"Uh huh?"
What were the signs of mental illness? Because one of them was
certainly crazy, and he was beginning to think it might not be
Fraser. After all, he was Canadian.
"Excuse me, would it trouble you too much if I had a look at that
flask?"
"Oh, I see you have a taste for art deco. Now this is a very fine
piece. From the early 20's. I just got it in. Well, are you going
to buy it or what?"
"No. . . . Ray."
"I'm sorry, I can't take her anywhere. If you should see her again,
please call me. . . . . What? You can't get it yourself?"
"What were you doing?"
"I recognize the spores on the flask, Ray. It comes from the same
fungus I found on the bottom of Celine's shoes."
"Which means?"
"Which means that she found the flask somewhere on the grounds of the
school, snuck it out and came here to sell it."
"So she's moving the stuff out of the school."
"It would appear so. And that's not all. There was a name engraved on
the bottom of the flask. Frank Nitti."
"Ah, Al Capone's right hand man. Frank Nitti's flask, Elliot Ness'
gun. What is this? A garage sale for the Untouchables?"
"Well, if we can establish-Ray! Manners."
"Ya know Benny, there's a limit."
"A limit to good etiquette? I think not, Ray."
"Just get in the car before I beat you with your purse."
What was that quote that Huey had on his last email? Oh yeah: "The
statistics on sanity are that one out of every four
Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of
your three best friends. If they are OK, then it's you." --Rita
Mae Brown. Let's see, that leaves either me or Fraser: I put up with
him; it's gotta be me.
"Care to dance, Ms. Fraser?"
"Uh, no. Thank you, thank you. I'm just here as an observer."
"Get down already. You can really move for a big woman. . . . I like
big women. More of a good thing, you know."
"I'm cutting in, Jack."
"We're not finished."
"Take a hike."
"Thank you."
"You owe me."
"For what?"
"For saving you from dancing with a guy."
"Well, it would appear that I am still dancing with a guy."
"Right. So Ness' gun."
"Keep going or we won't be able to talk."
"Who still does disco?"
"The St. Fortunata School, apparently."
"That Ness' gun?"
"Hm humm."
"And Nitti's flask."
"Hm humm."
"It all comes from back in '31 on the school grounds."
"Where on the grounds?"
"Well, that's what no one's known for the last 60 years. Until Celine
and Todd found it. They know."
"Ah, well, Melissa didn't say anything about this. Which makes me
wonder what other things she's kept secret. . . . Sorry, she's
gone."
What was he doing, and when had this become his life? His boss
certainly thought him strange, as did his co-workers, his
partner licked everything in sight, and he let a deaf wolf shed all
over his suits. As if that wasn't bad enough, his partner was
now a transvestite!
Ray was a man of the world. He was a cop in the city of Chicago. He'd
seen transvestites before. He'd arrested transvestites
before. He'd never partnered with one before.
"How do you know they're in here?"
"Fungus, Ray."
"Of course. Sounds like they're this way."
"Then I suggest we go this way."
"Do I dare ask for an explanation or I just take your word for it?"
"Well, it's similar to the Doppler effect, Ray, wherein the echoes
bounce off the walls of the corridor and the pitch of the sound
waves changes and amplifies…"
"I'll take your word for it."
"Very good."
Fungus. Physics. Yuck. Why was he doing this again? Come on now,
physics? He'd hated physics in high school. Damn
variables never stood for the same thing, even in the same equation!
"You ready?"
"Yes."
"You know, Benny, you weren't a bad-looking woman."
"Thank you, Ray."
"Of course, you weren't exactly my type, either."
"What exactly is your type, Ray?"
'Well, I like a woman who is kind and honest and has a good sense of
humor."
"Well, I don't have those qualities?"
"No, no, you do, I just like a woman who's, you know, a woman."
"Well, that's -- that's just picky, Ray."
"Ah, don't get in a snit."
"Well, I'm not."
"Well, good."
"Well, fine."
"So, what you are doing after work?"
"Nothing with you."
"You are soooo sensitive."
If only . . .
End