“I know you’re going to think I’m fangirling, but I just can’t believe you’re willing to take this case. The gay detectives! This is so exciting!”
“Well,” North said with a sidelong glance at Shaw, “there might have been a miscommunication. I’m interested in hearing about the job you want us to do, but I have to be honest and tell you we’re very—”
“Very interested,” Shaw said. “Very excited about a chance to do some work with the LGBTQ community.”
Yasmin nodded. Then her mouth widened into an O. “You mean us! Oh, right. Yes, that would be great. I mean, you’re gay! It would be fantastic.”
“Right,” North said with another of those sidelong looks. “We’re definitely gay.”
“And you’re boyfriends,” Yasmin said, clasping her hands.
Another of those sidelong looks. Shaw discreetly rolled his chair back a few inches and kicked North in the ankle. “Why don’t you tell us,” Shaw said, ignoring North’s murderous glare, “what’s going on? You mentioned death threats. Against you, in particular? What’s been happening?”
“Well, I don’t care what anyone says: we can’t cancel the con. We can’t. I won’t. I’m not going to let some pathetic nobody terrorize us into ruining a wonderful time for hundreds of people.”
“You’re talking about the…” Shaw checked his notes, which he now saw were written on the back of a Jack in the Box receipt. “Queer Expectations Convention? Is that right?”
“Yes. The premiere gay romance literature convention in the world.”
“The only,” North coughed into his fist.
But Yasmin had heard him, and she shook her head. “Oh no, there’s another. Gay Romance Literature. Very…hoity toity. Noses in the air. Not like us; we just want to have fun.”
“And this con, Queer Expectations, it’s being held in St. Louis this year?”
“That’s right.” Yasmin squirmed to the edge of her seat, snow pants crinkling. “A few weeks ago, I started getting emails. ‘I’m going to get my revenge.’ ‘You’re all going to pay.’ That kind of thing. Then the physical letters started showing up. They had the words cut out of magazines, you know. They said the same kind of things. I brought them, in case you want to see them.” She gestured to a folder on her lap. “And I checked in at the hotel Monday; Tuesday morning, I had another one. Someone had slipped it under the door while I was asleep. It’s crazy. The whole business is insane. And of course, someone leaked it, and our guests are going wild. We already have a lot of people who suffer from anxiety, and this is going to put them in the ground. It really will.”
“I’m not sure,” North said slowly, “what you want us to do. This sounds like something you need to take to the police.”
“I tried! They’re not interested. Actually, if I’m being frank, they looked at me like I’m crazy. Very homophobic. It’s probably because we’re in Missouri.”
“The Metropolitan Police aren’t always my favorite people, but they wouldn’t ignore a credible threat.”
“But they did. I mean, they are. They talked on and on about being careful and keeping an eye out for anyone strange or unfamiliar. It’s a romance convention! We’re all strange! And we love it that way. I tried to explain to them that something horrible is going to happen, but they just won’t listen.”
“Did the messages you received have any specifics?” Shaw asked.
“Like what?”
“Well, anything, really. Any details.”
Yasmin made a face, opened the folder, and spread a half dozen pages on the desk. They were all as she had described them: cut-out words pasted onto copy paper, spelling out a variety of threats: I’m going to get you, No one is safe, Watch your back. Shaw sighed and looked at North.
“Oh no,” North said. “You’re the one who opened this particular door to Batshit Land.”
“The problem,” Shaw said, “is that even if the police wanted to help, there’s nowhere for them to start. You might be the intended target, but you might not—this one says, ‘I’m watching all of you.’ There’s no sign of when or how someone might be in danger. We’re even making the assumption that this is connected to the con. You’re giving the police a black hole of possibilities, and they’d need limitless resources in order to even try to make a difference.”
“But they can’t do this. You’re not allowed to threaten people.”
“You’re right; harassment is against the law, but it’s a misdemeanor. Unless you can give them a viable suspect, they just don’t have the resources to run down something like this.”
Yasmin stared at them, mouth agape, her breath stirring invisible eddies with the smell of cigarette smoke. “Fine. Fine. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? I’m going to hire you: private detectives. Gay private detectives.”
“If I have to hear about how gay I am one more time,” North said to Shaw, “I’m going to shit a unicorn.”
“We’re not gay detectives,” Shaw said to Yasmin. “We’re detectives who happen to be gay. And this isn’t a gay detective agency. It’s a detective agency that helps the LGBTQ community.”
“Or anyone who can pay.”
“Well,” Yasmin said, “I fit both those criteria. I can pay, and I’m part of the LGBTQ community. I mean, I’m straight, but I write about gay men. I’m an ally.”
“We know,” Shaw said. “And we’re really grateful. And we’re looking forward to reading your books.”
North cleared his throat.
“We really are,” Shaw said. “I think North got a little chub just looking at the cover for Spankin’ Angels, and I really liked the description of Marcus the Marquis, especially the part about the Prince Albert—”
“What Shaw is trying to say, in perhaps the most backassward way possible, is that we can’t take this case. We’d like to help you, and I’m sorry this is upsetting for you, but you’re asking us to do something impossible. We don’t have the resources to provide security for an entire convention. Your best bet is to do what the police recommended: remind people to be vigilant, keep hotel staff and security in the loop, and immediately inform the police if anything suspicious happens.”
“What if I have a suspect?”
“You just said you have no idea—”
“We had to ban a convention-goer last year. She was way too aggressive with the men who attended. Objectifying. Sexualizing. She hired a young man, a hustler, to seduce a very well-known author, and then the police got involved because it was a vice sting. It was awful. We had to tell her she was never welcome back at Queer Expectations.”
“Why didn’t you mention this to the police?” Shaw said.
“Because…because I didn’t think of it at the time.”