LGBT existed a long time before the labels came into being. Bigotry and discrimination were there at the same time. This is a story how those attitudes can affect our descendants.

Chapter 7 - The Game's Afoot

by Monica Rose and Marina Kelly
Editor: Qmodo

They could see that the sheriff was seated at his desk at the back of the office as they passed by the front of the building. As a gentleman should, Pat held the door open and gestured for Mary to go first. She raised an eyebrow in question, held her head high and marched into Sheriff Jackson's office. Pat came to a stop next to Mary Sue. Both remained silent as the sheriff seemed focused on the computer screen in front of him. Finally without preamble, Pat announced, "We're here to report that the library's been broken into."

The lawman closed the laptop and with a condescending smile said, "Is that right? When exactly did this dastardly deed take place?"

"Last night, I found the doors unlocked this morning."

"Are you sure you didn't just forget to lock up last night?" Looking Mary over from head to toe and back up to her chest, he said, "A woman who looks like her can be very distracting."

"Listen Royce, this is serious. They stole city property, everything Miss McLaughlin was using for her research."

"How'd they get in?" Jackson challenged. His whole manner said that anything Pat cared about did not matter to him.

"They used a key to gain entry. Other than mine, there are only three other copies. Would you mind showing me yours?"

The sheriff jumped to his feet. "Summerfield, we have known each other since we were boys. I don't like what you are insinuating. My daddy was sheriff before me and his daddy before him. When I'm in uniform in this office, I demand respect."

Pat said, "You're right Sheriff. However, I wasn't accusing you. I'm just trying to account for the keys. The fire station key is in play too."

The lawman unclipped a large ring with keys on it from his pistol belt. It took several seconds before he found the one he was looking for.

"Here's the key to your building!” he snapped. “It never leaves my belt. Unless you are accusing me of the break-in?"

Taking forms from his desk, he handed them to Pat. "Fill these out. Be sure and list any items missing or damaged."

Shifting his attention to Mary he went on, "Since your research materials are missing I guess you'll be moving along now."

As much as she wanted to smile and throw some of the lawman's smugness back at him, she kept the look on her face neutral and said, "No, luckily I made copies of everything so my research will go on. I'll be fine, besides, I like a good mystery."

The sheriff ground his teeth as he watched Mary use her notebooks and cell phone to provide information to help Pat complete the forms. Pat took the forms and handed them to his old school mate. Without looking at them, the sheriff threw them into his inbox. "If that's all, I have work to do."

Mary stood and said, "Actually, that's not all. One article we uncovered was of particular interest...the murder of Nathaniel and Yolanda Kaylock. It was a front page story back then. According to the newspaper, this office was responsible for investigating. Yolanda was on the wagon train and it would be most helpful for my research if I knew the outcome of the investigation. May we look at those files?"

The Sheriff walked a few paces to an old filing cabinet, opened the bottom drawer and thumbed through a few folders. "That was a long time ago; it appears the files are missing."

Pat was becoming irritated by the sheriff’s attitude. "Isn't your wife kin to the Kaylocks?"

"Yeah, she's a cousin or something, what of it?"

"Come on Royce, we both know that any time the Kaylock name is mentioned around here most people stick their heads in the ground. You either don't want Kaylock to know you helped Mary with her research or you know something that would hurt his campaign. You wouldn't be trying to hide something to protect them would you, Sheriff? I suggest you conduct a more thorough search for the file. I know the law, unless it's still an active investigation; they are a matter of public record and we have every right to see them."

Unaccustomed to people questioning his authority, the Sheriff grimaced and said with an angry snarl, "I've been accused of a lot of things; but I run my office by the letter of the law. "Write out your request in triplicate and I'll search the files when I get the time. Now get out!"

As they headed out the door, Pat stopped and looked back at Royce, "Just remember that if your head is in the sand your ass is still sticking out."

Stepping into the bright sunlight Mary Sue turned to Pat and said sarcastically, "That went well don't you think?"

"Yes, but it was about the way I expected to be," he answered. He turned to her and said, "Well Sherlock, where to now?"

"That depends on which puzzle you want to work on. Mine or yours?” she questioned back.

"What do you mean? Mine or yours?"

"You said there are four keys: yours, the fire station, the Sheriff's; so that leaves the town council key. Who would have that one? That would be your puzzle...Who went into the library? Mine is who killed Yolanda and why is she not buried in the family plot?"

"As to the last key, I would guess that would be Mrs. McGill. She is the city council chair and if she doesn't have it herself she will know who does. She might even be able to shed some light on your puzzle too. She could very well be the oldest person in town. Let's go over to her house. It's just down the street from mine." He took her hand again and they headed down the side walk.

They walked in comfortable silence, neither one really not knowing what to say. So many things were going through her mind at the same time: her research, the break-in, Pat. Pat was the most confusing puzzle of them all. She had never felt this way about anyone. She just didn't have much confidence in the romance department. She had handled drunks, creeps and even a couple of smooth talkers as a waitress. Pat just did not fit into any of those categories.

Pat on the other hand was enjoying this walk. He had never been with someone who made him feel this way. He enjoyed being with Mary for more reasons than he could count. She was beautiful but didn’t seem to know it. He was pretty sure that she was not overly experienced. Her kisses were tentative to start with but there was this promise of so much more. Granted that he had only kissed her three times but she threw herself into it with enthusiasm. If he had a chance, he fully intended to continue his assessment of her in that area.

Pat waved to a couple sitting on their front porch. "That’s Mr. and Mrs. Jamison over there. I used to go to their house after school. She makes the best chocolate chip cookies." He pointed to the two story house they were approaching. “This is my house.”

Mary Sue looked at the house appreciatively. It was a brick hulk of a structure. The windows that faced the porch were of a normal size that would be expected on a house, but the rest of the windows she could see were not much more than slots.

"It looks different in the daylight.”

Pat stood back to look at his home. "It’s one of the older buildings in town. It was actually used as a redoubt when there were problems with Indians. The slot windows were used by the defenders to shoot from and not expose themselves to being shot.” He gestured to the windows that flanked the door. “These windows were cut into the brick before I was born. I wouldn’t be allowed to do that now."

Mary Sue nodded in acknowledgement. This house represented a connection to Yolanda’s past, but she doubted that there was anything inside that would further her research. Her eyes were drawn to the spring flowers growing beside the house.

“What are those glorious flowering plants?” Bending over she examined one of the flowers. Laughing she said, "Excuse me for saying so, but pink flowers don't seem very manly."

Pat smiled at her comment, "My mother left me the house when she died. Actually they're called Azalea. They were my mother's favorite so I planted them in her memory."

Pat broke off a blossom and slipped it behind Mary's left ear.

Mary reached up and patted the flower securely into place. She remembered reading that in Tahiti tucking a flower behind ones left ear sends a signal: the wearer is taken. She wondered if he was aware of that custom.

"We can come back for lunch after talking to Mrs. McGill." He gave her a sheepish grin, "Unless you're afraid to be alone with me."

"I'm not afraid," she giggled. She sobered as she said, “I had a bit of a scare on my drive out here, but I’m pretty much over it. Besides, I grew up with four brothers and they taught me well my friend, they taught me very well." She loved the way they teased each other. She couldn't help but think how nice it would be to in his arms, again.

Pat could see that she had a story to tell at some point, but he was not going to push her. He poked out an elbow to Mary Sue, allowing her to slide her arm through. They walked down the sidewalk to the house next door.

An elderly woman sat on the porch in a wicker rocking chair, enjoying the fading sun. "Hello, Mrs. McGill. How are you today?" Pat asked.

"Patrick, nice to see you, boy. Miss McLaughlin it is nice to meet you.” At Mary Sue’s raised brows, she said, “Oh, don't look so surprised that I know who you are. This is a small town. News travels fast and I know everyone, some people say I'm an old busybody. I prefer to think I'm just well informed." She waved a hand toward the bench swing at the end of the porch, "Have a seat you two. Is this a social call Patrick?" It was apparent that Mrs. McGill did feel old.

"I wish I could say yes ma'am, but I can't. The library was broken into and I was wondering if you had the council's key?"

"No, I don't. I had it a couple of days ago but Tom Kaylock came by and said there was some maintenance that he needed to take care of." She replied.

"Thank you. Now we know that all four keys are accounted for. Whoever went into the library used a key. I'll ask Tom if he was there last night. Maybe he just didn't get it locked back up. Would you mind if we asked you a couple of questions that have something to do with Mary's research?"

"Well now that sounds more social. Patrick, go get the pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge and some glasses. Go on boy it's not like she's going to disappear. We'll just sit and get to know each other, woman to woman, so to speak.” She smiled as she waved Pat to the front door.

"Miss McLaughlin, I hate being formal except at council meetings may I call you Mary Sue or Mary?" she said bluntly.

"Yes Ma'am," Mary replied.

"Good...then you call me Dotty. Before you ask any questions may I ask one of my own?"

"Sure." Mary said beginning to like this woman for no other reason than her frankness.

"This might seem a bit out of place but what are your feelings toward our Patrick?"

Mary was caught off guard by the question. She thought that it was just the father who asked the boyfriend and what his intentions were toward his daughter. She took a deep breath and said the first thing that came to her, "I like him a lot. He isn't like anyone I know."

"Good! Patrick is a fine young man. He needs to find a good woman and settle down. There are several people on this block that think of him as their own child. We have seen him grow up and only want the best for him. He's as good as they come!"

Mary was blushing when Pat came out of the house with a tray of refreshments. "What have the two of you been talking about?" He gave Dotty a suspicious look.

"You, of course." She chuckled.

"I hope you haven’t given all my secrets away." He teased.

"There just was not enough time to tell all of them. Now how may I help with your research young lady?" Turning to Mary, "You know I am as old as dirt I might have some useful information rolling around in this head of mine."

Mary, trying to remain diplomatic, said, "Dotty you aren't old just rich in experience." Reaching into her bag and pulling out the notebook with the list of pioneers. "This is a list of names that were on the last wagon train following the Oregon Trail. Would you mind looking at it and telling me about any name that might be familiar?"

The older woman took the notebook and sent Patrick off for her reading glasses. She carefully read the list. She paused a moment to sip her lemonade. "The Andersons on this list would be my father’s family. They chose to stay and not go on because my grandma was expecting their third child, my daddy."

Mary was taking notes as Dotty talked about her family and how they had started a homestead and some of the stories that had been passed down and Pat listened patiently. When he saw she was winding down he asked, "Do you remember any stories about a Yolanda?

"There was a schoolteacher by that name. She was well thought of. In fact, the little schoolhouse is still standing. You might go look at it sometime. Get the key from Tom when you ask him about the library. I recall my mother telling me about Yolanda being involved with the Kaylocks somehow, but she didn’t talk about that. I know that Yolanda was killed at some point."

"We will." said Pat.

Mary Sue stood and took Dotty’s hand. "Thank you for your time and stories Dotty. You have given me some valuable information for my paper."

The elderly woman smiled up at her and said, "You are welcome dear. Come back any time. I love having company. Don't let Patrick here get away he's a keeper you know."

"Dot, will you stop that. You're making Mary blush again."

He sure liked how Mary Sue’s cheeks turned another degree darker. "We should get going. I promised Mary lunch."

They said good bye and stopped at the sidewalk to wave.

@@@

Pat's home was as well-kept inside as out. He invited her to sit down in the living room while he prepared lunch. Mary looked around the room. On the walls there were pictures of Pat growing up. Even in his awkward stages, Pat was cute. She wondered what he would think of her school pictures. She was reaching into her bag for Yolanda's journal when Pat announced that lunch was served.

Mary laughed. On the kitchen table were two lit candles, two glasses of milk and two paper plates with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. "Really? Candles?"

"Only the best for my lady", he said gallantly pulling out a chair for her.

She sat and he went to the counter and to tear two paper towels off a roll for napkins. As they ate their lunch, they discussed their schedule for the remainder of the day. Pat needed to get back to the library at least for a little while. She would go back with him and work on writing the request for the files from the Sheriff. Send copies of her work back to the university. And start reading through Yolanda's journal.