More Than a Kiss

The Interrogation

All hell was breaking loose. Jordan had always thought that expression was nothing more than a silly cliché. Now she was changing her mind. As soon as she walked in the front door and heard the commotion (banging, muffled yelling, strange machine-like whirring noises) from upstairs in Edison’s laboratory, Jordan knew all hell was indeed breaking loose.

Her brain shifted into rescue mode while her body went into survival mode. She didn’t know whether to run to the noises or run away from the noises. In the end, brain and body compromised and she slowly crept upstairs to Edison’s lab. She felt like the virgin in a horror movie. The virgin was always the last to die. If she heard any creepy music she was running back down the stairs.

Jordan put a hand on the lab door like she was testing the temperature within the room. She had seen that in a safety video once. If the door felt hot that meant there was a hellish backdraft waiting to jump out and crispy-fry her.

The door felt lukewarm. Jordan thought that meant she could open the door; that nothing hellacious was contained within the confines of the four walls on the other side of that wooden two-inch slab.

She was wrong.

What she saw took a bloated moment to register: Petronella, dressed all in white, was sitting in a straight-backed chair in the middle of the room. Her hands were tied behind her back. Her feet were tied at the ankles. And the scariest part? The entire room was covered in plastic wrap.

Every. Single. Thing. Covered. In. Plastic.

Jordan’s brain balked, refusing to admit what her eyes were seeing. Then once it did register, she very nearly upchucked. She had unwittingly entered a murder den. Petronella was going to be slaughtered and the murderer didn’t want blood to get all over everything.

Edison jumped out from behind the door with a big smile plastered on her face. “Good! You’re here!”

Jordan opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again and stuttered, “What the fuckity fuck?”

Edison said, “You got here just in time for the interrogation.”

Interrogation? Something clicked into place and Jordan’s mind flashbacked to yesterday. Edison had led her to the garage, saying, “I have to show you something. Petronella has been up to her old tricks.”

“You’re talking about the slashed tires and the whore on the porch thing?” Jordan asked.

“Yes, among other things.”

“Other things?” Jordan said.

Edison pointed to the corner of the garage. A stack of political signs, the kind politicians stick in front yards during elections, leaned against the wall. Jordan went over to look closer. They weren’t political signs; they were Biblical signs.

“What the hell?” she said and began reading them. They were Bible verses, indictments against homosexuality of the “man shall not lie with man” variety.

“I came home the other night and the lawn was plastered with them. And, boy, GLAAD is mad. Their spokeswoman called and warned me that such bigotry will not be tolerated,” Edison said.

“Wait a minute. They actually thought we were putting these in our yard on purpose?” Jordan asked.

“Yep.”

“Did you explain that we’re gay?” Jordan asked.

“I tried but the woman was ranting so much I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I took the signs down and stacked them in here.”

“This is pretty low, even for Petronella.”

“Duh, think about it. It’s a perfect premise. She’s trying to make us look bad in front of the whole neighborhood. Mrs. Wickersham from across the street flipped me the bird this morning. Even the cute letter-carrier snubbed me.”

Jordan shook her head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I made an executive decision not to tell you because you were so happy with Amy and I didn’t want to ruin it. But that’s not all.”

“There’s more?”

Edison pointed at a cardboard box. Jordan reached down to open it, but Edison stopped her, saying, “I wouldn’t open that if I were you.”

“Why, what is it?”

“Evidence.”

Jordan wrinkled her nose. “It smells poop-ish.”

“That’s because it is poop-ish. Burned and charred dog poop to be precise. Someone set it on the porch, lit it on fire and rang the doorbell. Irma was not happy when she stomped it out.”

Jordan’s face darkened. “Petronella tried to light my house on fire.”

“I think she just wanted you to get shit on your shoes.”

“But she could’ve burned down the house.”

“Yes, she could have. That’s why I mean to put a stop to her evil and vandalistic trickery.”

“If Petronella was doing all this why did she ask me to get you to invent the remote control paint car?” Jordan asked.

“Duh,” Edison said. “To throw you off her scent.”

That was yesterday. Today, Jordan was standing at the murder scene and what Edison said made sense. She had had no idea that Edison was meaning to kill Petronella. She had thought Edison meant to give her the remote car and send her away on tour.

Jordan grabbed Edison by the shoulders and shook her none too gently. “You can’t do this. You can’t kill her. I don’t want her blood on your hands.”

“Kill?” Petronella gasped. She strained against the ropes tying her to the chair. “Kill!” she yelled. She bounced up and down, managing to make the chair hop. She hopped toward Jordan, begging, “Please, Jordan, do not kill me. I was not perfect. I know that now. But to kill me?”

“Nobody’s killing anybody,” Jordan said.

“You’re going to wish you were dead, though,” Edison snarled. With that, Edison put on her sunglasses and whipped a remote control out of her pocket. She aimed it Petronella.

Petronella blanched. “What are you doing? Is that a taser gun?”

“I vill ask you again,” Edison said, using a fake German accent that sounded like it came straight out of Hogan’s Heroes. “Did you or did you not put zee signs in zee yard?”

“Not!” Petronella said. “I have no idea what you are talking about!”

Edison pushed a button. From the corner of the room an engine buzzed. A remote control tanker rolled on four wheels up to Petronella. It was a duplicate of the one that caused the brouhaha at the poetry reading. A nozzle telescoped out and up. It rose, lowered, moved from right to left until it was in perfect alignment with Petronella.

Edison laughed and punched another button. Red paint shot out of the nozzle and splattered Petronella in the chest.

Petronella looked down at the red spot on her white shirt and yelped, “This is Armani, you idiot!”

Jordan was relieved that Edison was only euphemistically killing Petronella. And the sight of the Ice Queen red-faced and blubbering sent Jordan into hysterics.

“This is not funny!” Petronella barked.

“Gimme that,” Jordan said, taking the remote out of Edison’s hands. “Don’t hog all the fun.”

“NO! Do not shoot!” Petronella pleaded.

Edison clasped her hands behind her back, paced back and forth and interrogated, “Then tell the truth, Petronella. Did you put the flaming dog poop on the porch?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Petronella said.

Jordan pushed a button.

Petronella gasped as a jet-stream of blue paint hit her full in the face. “Damn you!”

Jordan high-fived Edison. “She looks good in blue don’t you think?”

“You’re right. Her white hair really makes her blue teeth pop.”

“Next question,” Jordan said, poising her thumb over the yellow button. “Did you paint the word ‘WHORE’ on my porch?”

“You are demented and crazy,” Petronella spit. This time the yellow paint splattered her crotch.

Edison giggled. “It looks like she tinkled her panties.”

Petronella bounced in her chair toward Jordan. She was so mad she was frothing at the mouth. Or maybe that was just the blue paint bubbling out.

Jordan backed away from Petronella’s hopping chair, using the remote to keep the tanker car between herself and Petronella. She fired another question, “Did you slash my bike tires?”

“No. No. No. No. No. No,” Petronella enunciated with each bounce of her chair.

Jordan splattered her with green paint. Then topped it off with a small splash of red. Petronella kept bouncing, kept advancing.

Jordan walked backwards. She aimed the remote and said, “Tell the truth Petronella. The paint will not stop until you admit to your crimes.”

“I. Did. Not. Do. It.” Bouncity bounce bounce.

Jordan hit the button labeled “rapid fire.” Four streams of pulsating colors hit Petronella. It was like she was standing under a colorful waterfall. Petronella stopped bouncing. Soon, she was a rainbow collage of colors. She began to sob.

Jordan stopped firing.

Petronella hung her head, gasping for breath. “I give up,” she said weakly between sobs. “I can take no more. I surrender.”

Jordan handed the remote to Edison and said, “Admit it, Petronella. You are jealous of Amy.”

“Yes,” Petronella said. “Yes, I am jealous. Is that what you wanted to hear?” She looked up, her eyes meeting Jordan’s. “Can you blame me? She has captured your attention. You are in love with her. I loved you once. But you never loved me back.”

Jordan opened her mouth to disagree, but Petronella interrupted. “Oh, do not tell me you loved me, Jordan. I am a lot of things, but I am no fool. I would have given anything to have you look at me the way you look at her. All I ever wanted was your love.” She looked away and sniffled. “To be loved,” she said softly. “Alas, it is not to be. I shall perish, old and alone, wrinkled and shriveled. The Ice Queen will never be warmed by another’s heart.” She snuffled.

“Irma loves you,” a voice said.

Jordan looked toward the door. It was Irma. Jordan had been so engrossed in Petronella’s sob story, she hadn’t noticed Irma come in.

“What do you know about love?” Petronella sniffled.

“Irma knows a beautiful, talented woman when Irma sees one,” Irma said as she slowly approached Petronella.

Petronella met Irma’s gaze. If she wasn’t mistaken, Jordan saw something in Petronella’s eyes, something that burned from deep within, a desire that hadn’t been there before, if ever. Irma, the woman in black, gazed longingly at Petronella, the woman in white. Well, she was usually all in white. Right now, she was covered in colors.

Petronella said, “You are a strong, sexy Russian woman. Why would you want me?”

Irma knelt before Petronella’s chair and placed her hands on Petronella’s knees. “Irma wants to make love to you. Irma wants to take care of you. Irma wants to love and protect you for all time. If you will have Irma?”

“Untie me,” Petronella whispered hoarsely with desire coloring her cheeks. “Untie me and show me what it is to be loved so completely.”

Jordan whispered to Edison, “I think that’s our cue to leave.”

Edison nodded and whispered back. “I just puked a little in my mouth.”

Jordan and Edison quietly left the room and shut the door on the new lovers. “I think Petronella was telling the truth.”

“Me, too,” Edison said.

Jordan pulled the rubber ball out of her pocket and squeezed it. “So if Petronella didn’t do all that stuff, who did?”