A Crossdressing Lawyer's Guide to Murder Lesbians

Part 1

"The law is a difficult bugger."

I wrestled my coat off.

"You would not believe the details of my latest case- I've just taken it and it's already given me a headache."

Betsey, who was sitting with her sketchbook in front of her, pulled her pencil out of her mouth, holding it with two fingers as if she were taking a drag from a cigar. It was something she did that I treasured for some inexplicable reason, definitely not the sort of thing that could become the subject of a love letter. Nevertheless, I found every silly air of hers charming.

"What're the details?" She said casually, leaning back in her chair, imitating a law partner.

"You see, I have agreed to a murder case, a client of mine claims that her brother was murdered by his wife."

"Murdered? By his wife?" The fake-business tone dissolved into shock.

"Yes. And I have no reason to believe her besides.. well, the general lack of evidence otherwise!" I gestured widely.

"Who have you asked for this evidence?" Betsey leaned forward and steepled her fingers, narrowing her eyes. She had the ability to go from softly doe-eyed to fierce and determined in moments.

"Well, of course the coroner-" I sat down,

"And their father, who had approved the marriage, not to mention an older brother an-"

"So... no women?" Betsey raised an eyebrow.

"Well-" I sputtered, "That's the impossible part. The wife refuses to speak to me! She hasn't been imprisoned, of course, but day and night I hear she surrounds herself with an impenetrable wall of other ladies. I can hardly expect to breach that space and speak to her."

"Hmm..."

"What, have you got a solution?"

"No, no. She just sounds familiar. What's her name?"

"Evangeline Burton Chandler."

Both her eyebrows raised, and she blinked at me.

"Eva Burton, you say?"

"I take it you know her?"

Betsey went through a series of faces, at first a slight smirk of recognition, followed by a face of unease, then disgust, then a comical amusement.

"She definitely did it." Elizabeth laughed.

I squinted.

"How can you be sure?"

"She's like you. Her inclinations- you know what kind- are more strongly aligned with her own sex."

"Like me? I'm a married man, Betsey!"

"And you admire other married men through the corners of your eyes." She replied, tapping the pencil on my nose. I glared at her.

"I love you!" I said, crossing my arms.

"Yes. So did Evie. I broke her poor heart."

She said, evenly, putting her chin on her hand and staring into the middle distance like an elderly woman recollecting fond memories.

"I suppose you led her on, then?"

"Without knowing it."

"Indubitably."

"That is what happened with you and that Troup fellow, isn't it?"

"Don't talk about Robert." I growled.