Page 125 of Precise Justice

“Remember that trial in Minnesota I talked to you about?” Joan said when the call was answered.

“Yes, sure,” Camille said.

“I’m having dinner with a hot private investigator who works for Robbie’s lawyer. I told him about you. He wants to meet you.”

“Yeah? How hot?” she asked.

“He’s got a touch of that tough guy, bad boy look women go after,” Joan said while winking at Carvelli.

“Bad boy, huh? Can’t tonight. I’ll be in the office tomorrow morning after ten. Bring him around.”

Joan covered her phone and said, “Ten tomorrow morning?”

“Done,” Carvelli said.

“See you then,” Joan said to the professor.

“Were you planning on spending the night or flying back?” Joan asked.

“I’ll stay. I need a room.”

“There’s a Hilton nearby. Pick me up at nine forty-five tomorrow,” Joan said.

“What’s your husband gonna say about having dinner with me?”

“I don’t care,” Joan said. “Know a good lawyer here in Chicago?”

“Yeah, but she works for the government,” Carvelli said.

“Let me tell you something,” Joan said. “I didn’t realize it before but there is nothing normal about this life. Paul has the body of a man but still has all of the characteristics of today’s entitled feminist woman. Just below the surface is the bitch. And she pops out in a flash.”

“Well, if it’s any comfort, let me tell you something. I was a cop for twenty years and saw enough to know, there’s no such thing as normal.”

“I haven’t mentioned this to anyone except Camille, Professor Bethany. Before I mentored Robbie, I mentored four other trans girls. Of the four, two grew up to regret it, hate it actually.”

She paused here and looked away. Carvelli silently watched her and could see tears forming in her eyes. Joan drew in a deep breath to steady herself then looked back at Carvelli.

“One of the two, I won’t tell you her name,” Joan said.

“Okay,” Carvelli replied.

“One of them committed suicide.”

Once again, Joan paused. She looked down at the table top, sobbed then wiped the tears away with a napkin.

“If it’s too painful…”

“No, I want to tell you. She was home alone; her parents were gone for the weekend.

“She called me and told me she had taken a lot of pills. I drove as fast as I could and called 911 on the way.

“I got there a few minutes ahead of the EMTs. I found her on the living room floor.

“I tried to get her up, get her moving. Too late. I was sitting on the floor, her head in my lap. She was done breathing, looked up at me and died. I’ll never get over it.”

Carvelli reached across the table and took Joan’s right hand. Once again, she sobbed and wiped away the tears.

Carvelli settled into his room at the Hilton. He called Marc to bring him up to date. After that, he flopped on the bed to watch the TV. Around nine o’clock, just as Carvelli was falling asleep, his phone rang and startled him awake.

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