she asked. “Do you think someone followed her home from the restaurant?”
“That’s a possibility.” I paused, took a breath. “I’m afraid I need to ask you some questions that might be uncomfortable. The autopsy report on Zoë showed that there was semen in her vagina.”
“She was raped?” Anna looked ready to cry.
“We don’t know that. There wasn’t any evidence of bruising or anything that might indicate the sex wasn’t consensual.” I gave her a minute to digest that. “Was Zoë bisexual?”
Anna played with the catch on her gold bracelet, then looked up. “About a year ago, she started talking about men. At first, she was just admiring guys we saw—you know, that one looks hot, and so on. Then she suggested trying a threesome.” She did start crying then. “That hurt.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I loved her, and I didn’t want to bring anyone else into the relationship, man or woman.” She looked toward the bedroom. “It was enough we had Greg, you know?”
“I hate to pry,” I said. “But do you know if Zoë was seeing anyone?”
She shook her head. “No. I thought her interest in men was just a phase, so I hung in there. But she pulled back from me, and started keeping little secrets. That’s when I knew I had to move out.”
Greg returned from the bedroom, one tiny girl in each arm. “Sarah and Emily are hungry. What are we doing for dinner?”
Ray and I looked at each other, then stood up. “We’ll leave you to it,” I said. “We’ll be in touch again. In the meantime, we’ll check out the restaurants you suggested. Can you direct us to the woman you said watches the girls when you’re out?”
“Why do you want to talk to her?” Greg asked.
“Just tying up loose ends,” I said. “You know how it is.”
Anna crossed the room and took one of the girls from Greg. They looked like such a happy family there, mom and dad juggling the twins, and once again I considered whether Mike and I would ever be a part of something like that. We knew some lesbians; perhaps we could enter into some kind of co-parenting agreement, like the one Greg had with Anna and Zoë.
There was always surrogate parenting, or adoption. I knew gay men who were raising nieces or nephews, and a couple who were foster parents. There was a whole array of things we could do—if we both wanted it.
It wasn’t something we’d talked about a lot. Mike was an only child, and he was spoiled in the way that only children often are—accustomed to doing what he wanted, going his own way. I was the youngest of three, and I had my hands full playing Uncle Kimo to seven nieces and nephews. But I couldn’t deny that I’d felt something.
Anna carried one of the girls with her as she walked out of the apartment, and we followed. She knocked on the door next to hers, and a tiny, stooped old woman came out. Anna spoke to her briefly in Mandarin. I didn’t catch much beyond jing cha , police; gu , dead; and Zoë.
“You have questions?” the old woman asked.
“Yes, Auntie, if you wouldn’t mind.” Anna took her daughter back to her own apartment, and we walked into her neighbor’s. It was decorated in faded red and gold, and there were children’s toys on the floor and the sofa.
Even though she looked nothing like the woman Lucky Lou said had pawned the dragon pendant, we asked her about her relationship with Anna and Zoë. She said she had known Anna a long time, since Anna first came to Hawai’i, and that she often took care of the girls for her.
I pulled out the picture of the dragon pendant that Anna had drawn. “Have you ever seen this pin?” I asked.
She peered at the drawing, held it up to the light, then shook her head. “No, but Anna drew this, didn’t she?”
“She did.” I took the page back from her. “Were you taking care of the girls on Sunday night?”
“Sunday? No. My grandson was here visiting. I took him next door to see Sarah and Emily. Anna was there
“That’s a possibility.” I paused, took a breath. “I’m afraid I need to ask you some questions that might be uncomfortable. The autopsy report on Zoë showed that there was semen in her vagina.”
“She was raped?” Anna looked ready to cry.
“We don’t know that. There wasn’t any evidence of bruising or anything that might indicate the sex wasn’t consensual.” I gave her a minute to digest that. “Was Zoë bisexual?”
Anna played with the catch on her gold bracelet, then looked up. “About a year ago, she started talking about men. At first, she was just admiring guys we saw—you know, that one looks hot, and so on. Then she suggested trying a threesome.” She did start crying then. “That hurt.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “I loved her, and I didn’t want to bring anyone else into the relationship, man or woman.” She looked toward the bedroom. “It was enough we had Greg, you know?”
“I hate to pry,” I said. “But do you know if Zoë was seeing anyone?”
She shook her head. “No. I thought her interest in men was just a phase, so I hung in there. But she pulled back from me, and started keeping little secrets. That’s when I knew I had to move out.”
Greg returned from the bedroom, one tiny girl in each arm. “Sarah and Emily are hungry. What are we doing for dinner?”
Ray and I looked at each other, then stood up. “We’ll leave you to it,” I said. “We’ll be in touch again. In the meantime, we’ll check out the restaurants you suggested. Can you direct us to the woman you said watches the girls when you’re out?”
“Why do you want to talk to her?” Greg asked.
“Just tying up loose ends,” I said. “You know how it is.”
Anna crossed the room and took one of the girls from Greg. They looked like such a happy family there, mom and dad juggling the twins, and once again I considered whether Mike and I would ever be a part of something like that. We knew some lesbians; perhaps we could enter into some kind of co-parenting agreement, like the one Greg had with Anna and Zoë.
There was always surrogate parenting, or adoption. I knew gay men who were raising nieces or nephews, and a couple who were foster parents. There was a whole array of things we could do—if we both wanted it.
It wasn’t something we’d talked about a lot. Mike was an only child, and he was spoiled in the way that only children often are—accustomed to doing what he wanted, going his own way. I was the youngest of three, and I had my hands full playing Uncle Kimo to seven nieces and nephews. But I couldn’t deny that I’d felt something.
Anna carried one of the girls with her as she walked out of the apartment, and we followed. She knocked on the door next to hers, and a tiny, stooped old woman came out. Anna spoke to her briefly in Mandarin. I didn’t catch much beyond jing cha , police; gu , dead; and Zoë.
“You have questions?” the old woman asked.
“Yes, Auntie, if you wouldn’t mind.” Anna took her daughter back to her own apartment, and we walked into her neighbor’s. It was decorated in faded red and gold, and there were children’s toys on the floor and the sofa.
Even though she looked nothing like the woman Lucky Lou said had pawned the dragon pendant, we asked her about her relationship with Anna and Zoë. She said she had known Anna a long time, since Anna first came to Hawai’i, and that she often took care of the girls for her.
I pulled out the picture of the dragon pendant that Anna had drawn. “Have you ever seen this pin?” I asked.
She peered at the drawing, held it up to the light, then shook her head. “No, but Anna drew this, didn’t she?”
“She did.” I took the page back from her. “Were you taking care of the girls on Sunday night?”
“Sunday? No. My grandson was here visiting. I took him next door to see Sarah and Emily. Anna was there
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