Ladonna's Quandary

She paused and turned slightly and pointed to the far end of the yard. A number of people, mostly various parents of the graduating students who were the guests of honor at this party, sat and stood around a pair of wooden picnic tables. Janice recognized the resemblance of a clearly older woman with the same blonde hair, cut much shorter.

"I'm the baby of the family, my sister, Alma, their mother, is the oldest," Ladonna said, "there's a few in between, too, before our parents got to me."

"Is most...," Holmes let her voice trail off when Terry emerged from the house and quickly joined them. It wasn't his presence that gave her pause, but her colleague's reaction, as much as she'd tried to hide it.

Shaw'd been insistent that yes, she was indeed fucking this sweet piece of younger meat. But both of them were simply using the other, to mutual advantage. Bullshit, ran through Janice's mind. She raised the almost-empty red cup to her mouth to hide a smile she didn't want to explain.

The immediate, if so very subtle, changes in postures of both of them put the lie to that. Janice had never been in love, not really, but like her lip reading, she'd honed her natural skills at observation.

"Hey, Braxton," the sweet, young piece of hot, male older-detective-fucking meat said, "I found the box with great grands Harry's journal in it. You wanted to see it, too, Joyce. You too, Ladonna?"

Shaw looked across the others. The blonde shook her head, but smiled, and touched her husband's arm. He didn't seem to notice

"You go, honey," Ladonna said, "I've heard all the stories. You'll bring it tomorrow, Terry?"

He nodded. "There's some other items in the box, wonder if Greg even remembered about it. I'll bring it, someone will know more."

"I'll stay and talk to Janice," Ladonna said. She waved. Shaw glanced at Janice.

"I'll be fine, detective, I promise to be nice," she said and raised her cup, "I need a refill anyway."

Shaw smiled and shook her head. She and Terry leaned slightly at each other as they led Braxton into the house. Janice looked back, read the flash of disapproval on the aunt's face before the happy demeanor was back in place.

"A journal?" Janice asked.

"He was an early pioneer in the Valley, here," Ladonna said, "it's not been lost, exactly, but misplaced. Greg must've forgotten about it. He's my older brother, middle between me and Alma, owns the house. He's working in England, took Sharon and the kids. They seem to like their English school."

"Yeah, Detect..., Joyce mentioned that, letting the nephew and niece turn it into party central."

Ladonna's laugh was a mix of happy and something not so happy. Her glance at the demonic trio, the pale Amazon pulled into the discussion, was strained, but a soft shrug and her smile was renewed.

"I've been over here a couple of times, these kids keep the place tidier than Greg and Sharon ever did! Look at this yard, it's perfect! Teresa's told me that one," she pointed at the Devil, "wears stockings and garters and heels when she vacuums the place! Can you believe that? She's such an... odd... girl. I'm almost scared to talk to her, her eyes are so black."

"I don't think odd covers the half of it," Janice said, "but that's a cute tail she has."

Ladonna's reaction as they both looked at the Devil ass was... not what Janice expected. Was that... lust?

"Oh, uh, Ladonna," Janice said and eyes turned to her, she tipped her cup side to side, "I need a refill. I take it you... don't... but plenty of other choices in the coolers."

Ladonna nodded and they turned to walk side by side. Janice set a route that would take them just past the trio, Ladonna didn't object.

"Plenty of family, then, Ladonna? Not that many folks here?"

"We're having a family party tomorrow for Terry's and Teresa's graduation, class of eighty-six. Just us and their parents here."

"You have kids?" It wasn't a question Janice normally asked of anyone, but something in the blonde's tone had inspired it. In the extended silence, it was Spawner of Demon's contralto Janice heard, a comment directed to the Amazon.

"You'd share your boyfriend with your lonely mother, wouldn't you, Anna?" The Devil's quick laugh was deep and seemed steeped in amusement.

"Oh, uh," Janice wasn't sure Ladonna had heard the comment as she spoke slowly, "no, not yet."

Then her tone brightened. "We'll get there, though. Gotta do our part, getting 'em down."

Oh, holy shit, Janice thought. This woman was in deep. Very deep. But. So much in her voice didn't mesh.

"You married, Janice?" Ladonna asked. Her tone insisted on the change in direction.

"Only to the force," Janice said, "only one that'll have me."

She added a laugh to that. Just before the garage, leather boy and the angel emerged from the garage.

Well, Janice thought, he's not in his leather and she's not wearing her halo. His jean shorts were tight, though, and his tee snug. Taut, sinewy torso, legs that were... excellent. But she noticed Ladonna's eyes were on the redhead. Was it the thin tank top, opaque enough to hide the color of nipples, if not their subtle shapes whose positions indicated if she leaned forward, they'd likely be visible? Or the painted on jean shorts that offered only a bit more coverage than the Devil's?

"Hey, Ladonna, Janice," Janice worked to retrieve the speaker's actual name but Ladonna beat him to it.

"Hi, Chris, Sam, BBQ duties?" Ladonna's voice was forced lightness.

Chris carried a large bag of briquettes. Ah, yeah, the angel was Sam. She had a steel chimney and an armful of newspapers.

"That's us," Sam the not angel said. Chris tilted his head to his right, at the large, rolling BBQ alongside the garage.

Definitely not angelic, dressed like that, Janice thought. That might be the reason for Ladonna's weird reaction...

It hit her. Sam was Teresa's lover. And... Chris's lover. And... the Devil's lover, if Janice understood Shaw's silences to her questions. But, mostly, Teresa's lover.

Her nephew was fucking a gentile woman who was pushing forty, a police officer, one who would never give him children. Her niece was fucking a hot redhead chick, good chance no children there either. And, while Shaw was evasive, it seemed that Teresa, unlike these others, stayed resolutely on that side of the fence.

Chris and Sam nodded and turned as Ladonna's gaze followed them for a moment. Janice wasn't sure, but that gaze seemed more on the redhead's ass. Janice led them to the pair of pony kegs of beer in tubs of ice and hooked to a CO2 cylinder. She liked it, these people knew how to properly serve beer.

"All I've been told," Janice said as she took the tap in hand and worked it and reddish-gold liquid flowed into her cup, "is that tall woman, that Anna, had some role getting this beer. 'Highrider Red,' never heard of it, apparently from out of state."

Ladonna's disapproval was clear, but momentary. She looked around, as if checking if anyone was watching. Janice wondered if she was going to try this beer, or the other one, 'Vikrangia IPA,' a weird name that Shaw seemed to understand but had refused to explain. But she pulled an ice chest open and grabbed a Diet Coke, let the lid fall. She grabbed one of the red, plastic cups and quickly emptied the can into the cup and tossed the can into the box of empties.

"My secret," she told Janice in a conspiratorial whisper and put her finger to her lips. She took a sip and Janice laughed.

"Safe with me," she added. She held out her cup and Ladonna tapped it with hers and they both took a drink.

A half dozen people, led by the boyfriend of the Amazon, approached, walking between the house and the white van parked in the driveway. Janice and Ladonna nodded at them to receive acknowledgements and walked upstream as the larger group approached the beverages. The officer looked quickly, Anna had left the Devil and Spawner of Demons with an expression that Janice swore showed relief and greeted her big boyfriend with a kiss. A few moments later, a second, larger, group approached, made up of tall, fit women and a few guys with lithe but firm builds similar to leather boy's. Basketball chicks, Janice thought, or volleyball? She'd not much liked sports, no, she had, just not what were the 'girl's' sports. She'd wanted to play football. She'd had strength not that far from plenty of the boys in high school. Ah, well. She'd met a woman at a club a couple of weeks earlier and received an invitation to check out their rugby club when practices started up in August, men's and women's teams. She had only the merest acquaintance with the sport, but a quick scan through a couple of books in the library made it seem promising.

But for now, she hoped some of these new arrivals might be promising in other ways as the second group piled up with the first around the kegs and coolers.

"So not married," Ladonna said, Janice hummed, "no... one? Your family in the area?"

"Parents moved to the state to be ski bums and wander the wilderness," she said and shrugged, "I grew up skiing, camping... hate it all, now. Pure city girl. Their address is still wherever they park the camper."

She paused and shrugged. Ladonna's expression offered quiet, conspiratorial agreement.

"But, the other part, not found the right one. Don't have time, anyway. Working or working out. I like being a cop, wanted to be one since I was a girl. How about you?"

"I'm just a boring secretary downtown, financial services, accounting, that sort of thing."

Janice sipped her beer. Late twenties, still working, no kids. The nephew and niece were way off the expected track, given their family's history. But this woman merited her own asterisk.

"You probably don't get shot at," Janice said in a light tone. She'd never been shot at, yet, but the couple of times guns had been pointed at her had certainly focused her attention.

Ladonna's mouth locked open for a moment. "No..., well, some clients might get a tad nasty when we tell them they're broke, but..."

Both women laughed.

"But, you know, Janice, I... have an idea. Give me your phone number?"

Janice sipped. Wondered. Let the loud laughter by the kegs distract Ladonna.

"Sure. But," she tapped her pockets, "got a pen?"

"My purse's inside," Ladonna said and led them through the side door. A quick left put them in the kitchen. She pulled a small, black book from a purse on the counter, withdrew the pen from a sleeve on it.

"Let's see, Holmes, aitch."

Janice watched the woman shuffle through the book. Nothing unusual. Except for a piece of paper folded between pages. A prescription form? Yes.

Target page found, Janice offered up her phone number. The blonde's smile hid something, but further discussion was blocked when Terry led Joyce and Braxton up the stairs.

"Ah, you're here," the nephew said.

Braxton made a show of tapping his wristwatch.

"Dad doesn't like people being late," he said. He left off the 'again,' but his tone conveyed it.

"Just getting Janice's number," Ladonna said, "plans."

She clicked the pen and restored it to the sleeve with a flourish and put the notebook back in her purse.

"I'll walk you guys out," Terry said, "back in a sec."

"Plans, trooper?" Joyce's tone was amused

"Didn't share them with me," Janice said and made a show of emptying her beer with a long chug, "but I have my ideas. C'mon, refills."

She pulled her keys from her pocket. Joyce caught them and showed a confused look.

"Gonna get good and smashed," Janice said, "so I have excuses for the blatant come-ons I plan to make on every one of these nasty, nasty pieces of hot flesh out there. Don't give those back. I'll leave yours alone, I've seen you fight. Plenty for me."

Joyce snorted and followed her colleague out the door.

City Creek

Janice

She had her target. Janice stood near a bus stop. A trio of teenage girls with shopping bags from the nearby malls talked and laughed and offered camouflage. They were cute, in tees and casual shorts, but Janice was uninterested.

Ladonna Young had just emerged from the building across the street. Beyond that fact, the building was of little interest, six stories of barely half-assed attention to architecture shared among a number of companies. The blonde was with an older and attractive brunette who seemed close to Shaw's age. Ladonna's blouse and midi-skirt again downplayed her figure, but the brunette was having none of that. Unusually high stilettos, a skirt that covered her knees but with a slit high enough to reveal the tops of stockings, and a blouse that flowed around her chest and revealed a scandalous swath of cleavage! It was a look that likely meant the woman didn't take orders or shit from the mass of men in this city who felt they owned the women. Janice immediately liked her. They'd meet, somehow.

She'd wondered if Ladonna had been at work today, midweek, as 'lunchtime' had drawn closer to its traditional end, the woman hadn't appeared. Janice had Shaw to thank for pulling her from the ranks to use as an occasional observer on stake-outs, but she didn't, yet, call the shots on them, this was practice. Well, whatever excuse works. She'd moved with the crowds, without losing sight of the building's entrance, so she wasn't a rock in the stream. Apparently these two liked to shift time a bit. Or, there'd been a meeting. Or, who the fuck cares. She had her target.

Distance made her ears useless, and angles and intervening pedestrians and traffic reduced her lip reading to guesses, but the women were clearly on friendly terms. Janice sighed when they set off in opposite directions, her target was nicely isolated, but she could follow only one. Damn. Hopefully they both worked in this building, Janice could be patient. But she'd remember the brunette's ass and tits. It'd fuel some fantasies when she worked herself over and she'd return. Better yet, since Ladonna knew her, and Janice was on a collision course with the blonde, she'd need to be subtle, work out HOW to ask. Even tenuous, it was a lead, use it, as Shaw was teaching her. But now, task at hand.

Ladonna had phoned her a few times in the week and a half since the party, fishing for information. Personal information. Janice's intuition had been right, the woman was setting her up, a not unusual hobby for plenty of the locals. A date had been made, a week from the coming Friday, the delay a combination of the secret suitor's travel and her telling Ladonna she needed a bit of time. Her seniority, or lack of, meant it fell to her to bust drunks and idiots most Fridays and weekends. She'd been ready to put Ladonna off, but Shaw had gotten wind of it and apparently had twisted some arms. And Janice's Friday night had opened up. Just as that Saturday had opened up for the graduation party. Shaw didn't have that kind of pull, but Detective Lieutenant Jim Pearson did. And Shaw had plenty of pull with him.

Bitch.

Her colleague hadn't been upset after the graduation party. Well, no, not upset, exactly, but not precisely happy, either. Janice had worked to insert herself between the demonic mother-daughter duo, with an eye to getting the mother fucked brainless by leather boy. But, when the crazy Mexican bitch Shaw's age had shown up and gotten into the mixer, shit had hit the fan. Janice had quickly shuffled out of firing range, but fortunately a few of the tall volleyball players, their muscles firm but not bulky, teammates of the Devil's, had been... flexible. And horny. The Devil had tossed in a bag of lubes, vibrators and condoms and left Janice, two volleyball teammates and two guys who were leather boy's soccer teammates closed into the orgy house's rec room with the king size pull out sofa bed. At one point she'd had the guys alternate doubly penetrating each volleyball bitch while the other ate her out. The bitches had good tongues and took the cocks like pros. It'd been a good evening.

But Shaw had made clear, without actually saying it, that Janice should, in future, make different arrangements for fucking. She'd paid the trooper dues owed for keeping Terry and his housemates a secret, but Holmes being a regular at that house was beyond the debt the detective had incurred. Shaw's revenge was to deliver Janice into Ladonna's schemes.

Double bitch.

Janice wasn't exactly upset about the restriction. It'd been a hell of a night, but they were college kids. Right around her age, and matching well when it came to genitalia, yes, but not her normal social circle. She'd dropped out of the University during her freshman year not for lack of academic ability, but it was just so... unreal. The force was about as real as it got.

Janice had released her dark hair from the ever present braids that'd been there the last, and only, time her target walking along the other side of the street had seen her. Her patrol sunglasses, mid-thigh shorts and a short-sleeved blouse intended to deny recognition at a glance. She hoped she looked like the other shoppers and tourists mixed in with every other boring ass downtown business droid.

She'd pulled up what information she could on Ladonna and Braxton Young without attracting attention. A couple of minor moving violations, a parking ticket or three, but otherwise they squeaked. And right now that woman was just one more blonde secretary in conservative business dress in a city full of them. The small, red Tupperware container in her hand likely carried her lunch.

Ladonna had stopped at the corner just ahead. She'd cross to Janice's side. The tracker smiled. She was almost certain she knew the woman's destination. Janice used a knot of jacket-less businessmen in their cookie-cutter white shirts and dark ties as a shield as she quick-stepped the quarter-block to find a hiding spot near the entrance of City Creek Mini Park.

Her mountain-obsessed parents had taught her in excruciating detail the geography of this Valley and the state that contained it. The ancient lake that'd left the pancake-flat Valley floor that rose in a series of steep steps, the benches, when it met the mountains that stood on three sides. The arriving pioneers in the 19th century had found the flat, arid Valley mostly empty of human habitation and had set to harnessing the many small streams that drained mountain snows for irrigation.

As the city had grown, most of those creeks and streams had been further tamed and eventually directed into underground culverts. One such had been City Creek. It still flowed through the core of downtown, but unseen and unthought-of by the vast majority. A fire and a late-in-life desire for public remembrance had led to the donation of the few blocks where the Valley floor met the mountain valley that City Creek had cut in its free-flowing past. Concrete and asphalt had been removed; boulders, soil, grass and trees restored, and the creek again exposed to the open sky. The result had become an island of uneven terrain and cool, green respite from the swaths of streets and buildings that surrounded it.

The little park had been designed as a maze of walkways, greenery, little bridges and copses that offered privacy to the quiet. Janice and many of her colleagues had become intimately familiar with every twist and turn, it'd quickly become a popular destination after dark for ne'er-do-wells and lovers wanting a change of pace from bed or backseat. Despite official policy, if the latter weren't underage, coerced or of the professional sort, they tried to simply shoo them along. Most got the hint. Only the truly obtuse or those too lost in various chemical hazes tended to cause trouble at that point.

It'd left her knowing how to see most bits of the park without being seen. But it required careful steps. Fortunately, although well past maximum, the creek was still high enough to make some noise as it fell and splashed down artificial waterfalls and rock courses.