[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
death.”
An expression formed slowly on the woman’s face. It gave Tucker
the feeling that Davina had expected someone else.
“We’d like to speak with Jennifer Morris,” Bud added, as though
that would elicit a different response than Tucker could alone.
“Please have a seat.” Davina’s face went red and, glancing swiftly
away from Bud and his wheelchair, she stammered, “I mean, please
wait.”
Her reaction made Tucker want to laugh, but she hid her snicker
by brushing her hand across her face as though wiping crumbs from
her upper lip. She sat down on one of the straight-back metal seats with
pleather padding. There wasn’t really space for Bud to park his chair
next to her, so he simply stopped in front, leaving her with an excellent
view of the back of his slightly balding head.
“What is Frameline, anyway?” Bud never had much tact.
Davina looked up from her desk. “Well, sir, we’re producers
of an annual, international LGBT film festival. In fact, Frameline is
the largest and best known of these events in the world. We’ve been
an organization since 1977, and our festival has become one of the
most prominent and well-attended LGBT arts event in North America.
Nearly seventy thousand people attend each year.” Davina spoke as
though reciting words directly from a promotional brochure.
Tucker wondered if the answer came even close to what Bud was
• 134 •
BLIND LEAP
hoping for. Or maybe he didn’t care what she said or what Jennifer
Morris said or whether they learned anything at all. He didn’t seem to
believe that a crime had even been committed, and he didn’t accept the
typical judicial argument that suicide was a crime against the state’s
interests. Tucker thought Bud could probably understand why someone
would end it all, so he too easily accepted the suicide concept. Or
maybe not. She had no reason to believe Bud was more suicidal than
anyone else. Just because he was disabled didn’t mean he’d thought
about suicide. Neither did the fact that she’d thought about it in the past
mean he had, too.
They sat in silence for ten minutes before Jennifer Morris opened
her door. The acting executive director of Frameline was a short and
stocky butch who immediately reminded Tucker of Drew Carey because
of her buzz-cut blond hair and, admittedly smaller, black glasses. Velvet
had once insisted that the Carey was a lesbian icon in a man’s body.
Tucker didn’t get the analogy, which was a common occurrence when
Velvet theorized about lesbian iconography, but it made her feel better
about comparing Morris to Carey now. Velvet found lesbians in odd
places, and it was kind of nice reading popular culture that way because
then you didn’t feel so much like dykes were invisible. Morris’s choice
of professional attire was not unlike Tucker’s, jeans topped by a striped
shirt, black suit coat, and skinny black tie.
Tucker stood to greet Morris and tried to catch a glimpse of Bud’s
reaction. His chair came to her waist. All she could see now was the
crown of his head. She was getting really familiar with his bald spot.
He would undoubtedly call Morris a mannish dyke after they left the
building, but she wasn’t able to. “I’d be happy to speak with you now,”
Morris said in a calm, confident manner that Velvet would have called
swagger.
Tucker hurried after the woman, excited about tagging along for
her first real interview with a person of interest. She could feel the
weight of the recording device in the inside pocket of her suit jacket
and practiced asking permission to use it in her head. By the time Bud
rolled through the doorway, she had already shaken hands, introduced
herself, and was sitting opposite Jennifer Morris’s desk with her left leg
bent and her foot resting below her right knee.
“What do you do here?” Bud asked without any pleasantries.
Morris explained that as the acting executive director she had taken
• 135 •
DIANE AND JACOB ANDERSON-MINSHALL
over the fiscal responsibilities but her primary job, as programming
director, was to solicit, review, and select the films to be shown at the
festival.
“Do you mind if I record our conversation?” Tucker asked quickly
before Bud could lob another question. “It makes things easier for our
boss.” This was only one reason for using the microrecorder, but she
thought the rationale sounded convincing. Anyway, if people thought
overt evidence gathering was happening, they might decline.
“Yes, of course.” Morris took a seat behind a neat and tidy desk.
“Where were you the night Jeff went missing?” Bud asked.
“I had a meeting with our marketing director, then I was with
some friends at Mecca for cocktails and then…I don’t know…It was
probably around midnight, I guess, when I left and went home.”
“Could you spell the names of the people you were with and
provide us with their phone numbers for verification purposes?” Tucker
asked.
Morris hesitated only briefly before doing so. She looked up most
of the information on her cell phone, but it seemed that one required
a glimpse at her computer. Or she was looking at something else.
Curious.
“What’s your security like?” Tucker asked.
“We’ve always felt pretty safe here. The building has its own
twenty-four/seven security. A guard does rounds every hour and the
outer door is locked between six p.m. and eight a.m., so you need a
key to get in during those hours. Our office has its own separate alarm
system—but, to be truthful, we don’t arm it very often anymore, since
the building’s security is so good. We’re open nine to five but I often
stay late, and Jeff did, too.”
“Yeah, actually, we stopped and talked with the building security [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl freetocraft.keep.pl
death.”
An expression formed slowly on the woman’s face. It gave Tucker
the feeling that Davina had expected someone else.
“We’d like to speak with Jennifer Morris,” Bud added, as though
that would elicit a different response than Tucker could alone.
“Please have a seat.” Davina’s face went red and, glancing swiftly
away from Bud and his wheelchair, she stammered, “I mean, please
wait.”
Her reaction made Tucker want to laugh, but she hid her snicker
by brushing her hand across her face as though wiping crumbs from
her upper lip. She sat down on one of the straight-back metal seats with
pleather padding. There wasn’t really space for Bud to park his chair
next to her, so he simply stopped in front, leaving her with an excellent
view of the back of his slightly balding head.
“What is Frameline, anyway?” Bud never had much tact.
Davina looked up from her desk. “Well, sir, we’re producers
of an annual, international LGBT film festival. In fact, Frameline is
the largest and best known of these events in the world. We’ve been
an organization since 1977, and our festival has become one of the
most prominent and well-attended LGBT arts event in North America.
Nearly seventy thousand people attend each year.” Davina spoke as
though reciting words directly from a promotional brochure.
Tucker wondered if the answer came even close to what Bud was
• 134 •
BLIND LEAP
hoping for. Or maybe he didn’t care what she said or what Jennifer
Morris said or whether they learned anything at all. He didn’t seem to
believe that a crime had even been committed, and he didn’t accept the
typical judicial argument that suicide was a crime against the state’s
interests. Tucker thought Bud could probably understand why someone
would end it all, so he too easily accepted the suicide concept. Or
maybe not. She had no reason to believe Bud was more suicidal than
anyone else. Just because he was disabled didn’t mean he’d thought
about suicide. Neither did the fact that she’d thought about it in the past
mean he had, too.
They sat in silence for ten minutes before Jennifer Morris opened
her door. The acting executive director of Frameline was a short and
stocky butch who immediately reminded Tucker of Drew Carey because
of her buzz-cut blond hair and, admittedly smaller, black glasses. Velvet
had once insisted that the Carey was a lesbian icon in a man’s body.
Tucker didn’t get the analogy, which was a common occurrence when
Velvet theorized about lesbian iconography, but it made her feel better
about comparing Morris to Carey now. Velvet found lesbians in odd
places, and it was kind of nice reading popular culture that way because
then you didn’t feel so much like dykes were invisible. Morris’s choice
of professional attire was not unlike Tucker’s, jeans topped by a striped
shirt, black suit coat, and skinny black tie.
Tucker stood to greet Morris and tried to catch a glimpse of Bud’s
reaction. His chair came to her waist. All she could see now was the
crown of his head. She was getting really familiar with his bald spot.
He would undoubtedly call Morris a mannish dyke after they left the
building, but she wasn’t able to. “I’d be happy to speak with you now,”
Morris said in a calm, confident manner that Velvet would have called
swagger.
Tucker hurried after the woman, excited about tagging along for
her first real interview with a person of interest. She could feel the
weight of the recording device in the inside pocket of her suit jacket
and practiced asking permission to use it in her head. By the time Bud
rolled through the doorway, she had already shaken hands, introduced
herself, and was sitting opposite Jennifer Morris’s desk with her left leg
bent and her foot resting below her right knee.
“What do you do here?” Bud asked without any pleasantries.
Morris explained that as the acting executive director she had taken
• 135 •
DIANE AND JACOB ANDERSON-MINSHALL
over the fiscal responsibilities but her primary job, as programming
director, was to solicit, review, and select the films to be shown at the
festival.
“Do you mind if I record our conversation?” Tucker asked quickly
before Bud could lob another question. “It makes things easier for our
boss.” This was only one reason for using the microrecorder, but she
thought the rationale sounded convincing. Anyway, if people thought
overt evidence gathering was happening, they might decline.
“Yes, of course.” Morris took a seat behind a neat and tidy desk.
“Where were you the night Jeff went missing?” Bud asked.
“I had a meeting with our marketing director, then I was with
some friends at Mecca for cocktails and then…I don’t know…It was
probably around midnight, I guess, when I left and went home.”
“Could you spell the names of the people you were with and
provide us with their phone numbers for verification purposes?” Tucker
asked.
Morris hesitated only briefly before doing so. She looked up most
of the information on her cell phone, but it seemed that one required
a glimpse at her computer. Or she was looking at something else.
Curious.
“What’s your security like?” Tucker asked.
“We’ve always felt pretty safe here. The building has its own
twenty-four/seven security. A guard does rounds every hour and the
outer door is locked between six p.m. and eight a.m., so you need a
key to get in during those hours. Our office has its own separate alarm
system—but, to be truthful, we don’t arm it very often anymore, since
the building’s security is so good. We’re open nine to five but I often
stay late, and Jeff did, too.”
“Yeah, actually, we stopped and talked with the building security [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]