Chances Are Omnibus (Gender Swap Fiction) Page 6

  “Let’s hope you’re who you say you are,” Jake says.

  “Yeah, let’s hope.”

  ***

  Our last stop is Dr. Nath’s lab, where Lex used her as a human shield. Jefferson munches on a donut in there—there’s a reason for that old cliché. With his other hand he checks something on his phone. He must have been woken up for this; the buttons of his shirt are misaligned, so that I can see some of the pale flab of his stomach through the gaps.

  “Woods said you were coming up here with someone.” His beady eyes narrow as he stares at me. “I didn’t realize it was Take Your Niece to Work Day.”

  “Yeah, well, I thought it’d be nice to have someone with brains at the crime scene,” Jake says.

  When Jefferson snorts, it makes him seem more piggish than he already is. “Brains, huh? She even out of diapers yet?”

  “I’m twenty-one, asshole,” I snap.

  “She’s got a real mouth on her.”

  “She gets that from her uncle,” Jake says. “You mind if we have a look around?”

  “Yeah, I mind. This is my scene.”

  “We’re just borrowing it for a couple of minutes.”

  “Why? You and Nancy Drew planning to crack the case?”

  “There might be something you missed,” Jake says.

  Jefferson sneers at this. “I forgot you and Steve are the real hotshots around here. Or were, I should say. Looks like Steve finally got in too far over his head.”

  “Listen you son of a bitch, that’s my partner you’re talking about,” Jake says. The vein on his forehead begins to pulse while his fists clench.

  I put a hand on his midsection. Much as I’d like to see him clean Jefferson’s clock, I don’t need Jake getting suspended right now. “Don’t fight, Uncle Jake. Please?” I say in my sweetest girl voice.

  He puts an arm around my shoulder. “We’re not going to fight, honey. Are we?”

  Jefferson stares back at Jake for a moment. “Yeah, that’s right, kid. We aren’t going to fight. I was just going to make a call anyway.”

  “Probably to call for a pizza, the fat bastard,” Jake growls after Jefferson’s gone. He lets go of me so I can look around Nath’s lab.

  Like her office, there isn’t much to find. The stuff Jefferson’s deemed important has already been taken. What little remains is written with so much jargon that it might as well be in Chinese. I toss a few pages to the floor. The tears finally start to flow. “It’s hopeless,” I say. “There isn’t anything here. Even if there is, I can’t understand it.”

  Jake pats me on the back in fatherly fashion. “Don’t give up yet. Nath had to have some people working for her, some assistants. One of them might be able to help us.”

  “Maybe,” I say with a sniffle.

  “We’ll check out the files. OK?”

  “OK.”

  Jefferson waits in the hallway for us. “So you crack the case?”

  “Not yet,” Jake says. “What happened to all the files?”

  “They’re down in the truck.”

  “Great. See you around, Stu.”

  Before I can leave, Jefferson holds out a business card smeared with chocolate frosting from his donut. “You think of anything else, kid, you call me.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that.” I stick the card in a pocket, but drop it in a trash bin as soon as we’re out of his sight.

  ***

  “Jesus Christ,” I hiss as we come out on the first floor. “Can you believe the nerve of that guy checking me out? If you weren’t there he’d probably have tried to fuck me in a closet.”

  “You know how hard it is for Stu to meet women,” Jake says with a grin. “Not every day he gets to talk to a pretty young woman who still has a pulse.”

  “You think I’m pretty?”

  “If you cleaned up a little. And once you get rid of that bruise.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You’d rather I said you’re ugly?”

  “I might.”

  “Fine. You’re so ugly we ought to put a bag over your head.”

  “Thanks.”

  Woods has moved all of ten feet since the last time we saw him. “Stu said you want to look at the files?”

  “Yeah. We need to know about a Dr. Nath. She turned up dead in her tub this morning. There might be a connection.”

  Woods shrugs. “Look at ‘em if you want. Just keep the kid from touching them. I don’t want her prints all over everything.”

  “It’ll be like she’s invisible,” Jake says.

  The files are in a delivery truck, packed into boxes. Poor uniformed bastards probably spent all morning on that. Most of the information is on the computers anyway, but you can’t take chances when it comes to crimes like this.

  I ignore what Woods said and help Jake rifle through the files. It takes us a good hour to find one with Nath’s name on it. The file is for a project of something with the memorable designation FY-1978. There’s only one slip of paper left in the file, a memo from four years ago that indicates the drug is about to undergo animal trials. Included in the memo is a list of the personnel involved, with Dr. Nath’s name at the top. Below it is Dr. Clarita Palmer, the assistant project coordinator. Jake scribbles down the names so we can look them up later.

  After he returns the file and says goodbye to Woods, Jake and I head back to the car. “We should probably find this Dr. Palmer before Luther does,” I say.

  “You think he’s going to go after everyone who worked with Nath?”

  “He might if he thinks they have something that could help us.”

  Jake turns to look me in the eye. “Does Lex know what happened to you?”

  “No. I was in the water when it happened. He hasn’t seen me since.”

  “Then Palmer will keep.”

  “You think.”

  “He’s already bumped you and Nath off; any more is going to look suspicious.”

  “More suspicious.”

  “Yeah. He’s drawing enough attention to himself already with that little crime spree.”

  “So what are we going to do?”

  “I’m going to take you home.”

  “My home burned down, remember?”

  “My house. Tess can look after you while I check out these names.”

  “I don’t need looking after.”

  “Yeah, well, you need a shower. And some sleep. You look like hell.”

  “I thought you said I look pretty.”

  Jake shrugs. “Even pretty girls can look like hell.”

  I try to fold my arms over my chest, but my breasts get in the way. I have to fold my arms under them. “You just want me out of the way.”

  “Yeah, I do. We’re lucky we got away with what we did back there. I can’t take you into the station and try to run that bullshit past the captain.”

  “So what do you want me to do: sit around and play with my dollies?”

  “I want you to get some rest. Maybe you’ll remember something helpful.” Jake flashes a tired smile. “Please, Steve. I’m just trying to look out for you.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” I reach out to poke his arm. “As long as I’m there when you talk to Palmer or anyone else, OK?”

  “Deal.” Jake makes a left turn and we head to my new home.

  Part 3:

  Growing Pains

  Chapter 14

  Jake’s house is a split-level ranch, the kind en vogue with the parents of the Baby Boomers. I had one like it, only with black trim instead of blue, but Debbie got it in the divorce. She turned right around to sell it for a trendy condo closer to downtown.

  Jake puts an arm around my shoulders as he walks me to the door. His wife opens it before Jake can. Tess always did have a good set of ears on her. That came in handy whenever Maddy came over for a play date with Jenny.

  Tess looks a lot older than back in those days. Her hair went gray during Jenny’s cancer treatments and she began to cut it short out of solidarity with her daughter. The wrinkl
es that settled in on her face back then have only deepened. The sweater and pants she wears add to her grandmotherly appearance.

  “Who’s this?” she asks. She sounds as if I’m three years old and she’s about to pinch one of my cheeks.

  “This is Stacey—” Jake looks around and sees an ad in the mailbox that proclaims, “Last Chance to Save!” “Chance. Stacey Chance. She’s a witness in a case. I thought she could stay here for a few days. Just until we can find somewhere more permanent.”

  She gives Jake a look to indicate she’s not happy to be put on the spot like this. But Tess is a good Christian woman; she won’t turn away a young girl who’s obviously in trouble. “Of course she can,” Tess says. She offers me a hand that’s as wrinkled as an eighty-year-old’s and dotted with liver spots. I take the hand to give it a brief, polite shake. “It’s good to meet you, Stacey.”

  “You too,” I say. I’ve spent literally months around Tess over the last thirty years, so it’s tough to act as if we’re strangers. “This is a lovely house.”

  “Yes, it is.” Tess puts a hand on my shoulder to pry me away from Jake. She takes me down the hall to show me the living room. It doesn’t look any different than it did three years ago, after Jenny died. The only difference is the magazines on the coffee table are updated, Redbook instead of Seventeen. Tess sits me down on the couch. “Would you like anything to drink? Maybe a snack?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Jake clears his throat. “I thought she could use Jenny’s room while she’s here. She’ll need to borrow some clothes too.”

  Tess’s wrinkles shift as she frowns. She still dusts Jenny’s room every day and keeps everything the same, as if she expects her daughter to come through the door at any moment. The way her mouth twitches, I know she’s torn between her duty as a good hostess and her love for her daughter. The former wins out. She smiles and says, “Yes, of course. Our home will be your home for as long as you’re here.”

  “Thank you so much, Mrs. Madigan,” I say.

  “Call me Tess, please.”

  “I’ll try not to be too much of a burden.”

  “I’m sure you won’t be, dear.” Tess pats my knee gently. Then she leaves me alone in the living room while she goes to talk with Jake privately. I can imagine their discussion is far less cordial. I wish I could hear it so I know what sort of story Jake is feeding her about me.

  When they come back a few minutes later, Jake’s face is red. Tess’s eyes still burn with anger, but she forces herself to smile at me. “Why don’t I show you upstairs?” she suggests.

  “I’ll see you later,” Jake says. “After I check out a few things down at the station.”

  “Thanks,” I say. I want to linger a bit longer, but Tess has already started to drag me up the stairs to lead me to Jenny’s room.

  ***

  The walls of Jenny’s room are pink, but the posters are for bands called Fallout Boy and My Chemical Romance, bands of boys dressed in black who wear more mascara than a cheap whore. It’s hard not to notice how neat and tidy everything is; all of Jenny’s softball and gymnastics trophies shine as if new. “Will your daughter mind me using her room?” I ask. I hate to do it, but I need to sell my cover.

  “Jennifer died two years ago,” Tess says.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. You didn’t know.” I did know, but I can’t say anything or else I’ll give myself away.

  “What happened to her?”

  “She had leukemia. She fought as hard as she could, but in the end—” Tess begins to cry, which makes me want to give my other eye a nasty bruise for hurting her like this.

  “I’m sorry,” I say again.

  “It’s not your fault.” Tess turns away to go over to the closet. She pulls open the doors so I can see dresses, blouses, and jackets hanging up with rows of shoes on the floor. “You can borrow whatever you want. I think Jennifer was about your size.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Tess.”

  “The bathroom is two doors down the hall, on the left. The hot water sometimes takes a few seconds to get started. Are you allergic to anything? Jennifer was terribly allergic to peanuts; just touching one shell would make her break out.”

  “I’m not allergic to anything,” I say. I hope this is still true. I guess we’ll have to find out the old-fashioned way, by trial and error. “Whatever you make will be fine. I’m not picky.”

  “I don’t suppose you would be after such a rough life,” Tess says. She touches the bruise on my eye. “I think we have a steak in the freezer I could put on that—”

  “It’s fine. I can’t even feel it.”

  “You poor dear. Why don’t you get a shower and then take a little nap? I’ll wake you for dinner.”

  “That sounds great.”

  “Towels are in the closet next to the bathroom.”

  “Thanks.”

  I watch Tess limp out the door and wonder if anything at Lennox Pharmaceuticals might bring back the vibrant young woman Tess used to be.

  ***

  It’s a new adventure to shower as a woman. For one thing there’s a lot more hair I need to wash. I ought to get it cut as short as Tess’s to make it easier. As it is now, I scrub at it for a good five minutes before I decide I’ve got everything. I never bothered with anything like conditioner back then either. From the commercials on TV I know you’re supposed to use it if you don’t want split ends and whatnot.

  More worrisome than my hair are my new private parts. I run the loofah over my breasts and wonder how hard I’m supposed to scrub them. I decide not to bother too much with them for now. As for between my legs, I give the area one halfhearted swipe.

  When I step out of the shower I catch my reflection in the mirror. I look about the same as when I woke up on the dock, with my hair a dark, wet mess. I’d try to put it up in a towel the way Debbie used to do, but I don’t have any idea how. I push the hair back from my face and then try to smile. It’s still hard to believe that this is me—will be me for the foreseeable future, unless that drug wears off. I wonder what Jake is up to, if he went to talk to Dr. Palmer without me. He wouldn’t do that, not after I made him promise.

  I wrap a towel around my midsection to keep my breasts covered. There’s no one to see me as I run down the hall from the bathroom to Jenny’s room. I slam the door shut before Tess can see me.

  Jenny’s brush, comb, and other accessories are on the vanity. I don’t want to touch them. I don’t want to wear her clothes either, so I get back into the ones I bought from the thrift store. I suppose at some point I’ll have to break down and do it, just not tonight.

  I do allow myself to slither beneath Jenny’s blankets and put my wet head on her pillow. I lie there in the darkness and think of Maddy. I wonder what’s become of her. Not anything as serious as cancer I’m sure. Debbie would have told me that if nothing else. Wherever she is, whatever she’s doing, I hope she’s happy.

  I don’t remember when I fall asleep. When I wake up, Tess is gently shaking my shoulder. “Stacey, dinner is ready,” she says. “If you’re not feeling up to it—”

  “I could eat,” I say.

  From the clock I see I’ve been asleep for five hours. My head is still damp; I guess this much hair takes a while to dry. “Oh my,” Tess says. My pulse quickens as I wonder if there’s been some kind of side effect from the drug, if maybe I’m starting to change back to good old Steve Fischer. No such luck. She adds, “Such a pretty girl.”

  We stand in front of the mirror; I look like her granddaughter by comparison. Tess smoothes wet tendrils of hair away from my face. “There now,” she says.

  “Thanks,” I say. I’ve still got the black eye to mar the scene.

  Jake waits for us downstairs in the dining room. “You clean up nice, kid.”

  “I guess so,” I mumble. I’d like to talk to Jake about the case, but Tess steers me over to a chair between them at the table. She begins to ladle mashed potatoes onto my pla
te before I can say anything. Brown gravy follows; it drenches the mountain of potatoes. The slab of meat loaf she puts in front of me is as big as a brick.

  For a girl I have a good appetite, so that I’ve polished off half the mashed potatoes on my plate before Tess has touched hers. From the corner of my eye I can see Jake watching me to find a sign of his partner and not some runaway girl.

  “How did it go at the station?” I ask.

  Tess clears her throat. “We don’t talk about business at the table,” she says.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  We eat in silence for a couple of minutes. From the looks Jake and Tess give each other, I wonder how silent their dinners usually are. Jennifer’s death had changed a lot, especially with Tess. When Debbie, Maddy, and I used to come over, Tess would always have some new joke or funny anecdote. Since Jenny got sick, more than Tess’s hair had turned gray; her whole outlook on life had become muted as well.

  “So what did you two do while I was gone?” Jake asks.

  “I took a shower and then fell asleep,” I say, not much in the mood for conversation either, at least concerning non-business-related subjects.

  “Good,” Jake says. “I bet that bed is a lot nicer than your old one.”

  “I didn’t have much of a bed before,” I say. “Most of the time I slept on benches or in boxes. Sometimes just on the ground if it wasn’t too muddy.”

  “You poor dear,” Tess says. “I can’t believe anyone would abuse such a beautiful child. Especially not one who’s so well-mannered and sweet.”

  This is the first time anyone—even Debbie—has referred to me as “sweet” before. My cheeks turn warm at the compliment. “They weren’t very nice people.”

  “I’ll say,” Jake grumbles. “Of course we see all kinds in the precinct. Had a mother who tried to—”

  Tess clears her throat to cut Jake off. “I don’t think she needs to hear about that.”

  “I’m not some naïve innocent,” I say. “I’ve seen some pretty rough stuff since I left home.” I touch my bruised eye for emphasis.

  “Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to say you were, dear. I just don’t think you need to hear Jake’s horror stories. Let’s talk about something happier. I was reading an article in Redbook about a mother and daughter who were reunited after fifty years. Can you believe it?”