Free The Secret Life of Anna Blanc by Jennifer Kincheloe

justify to Matron Clemens.
    â€œThank you, Detective Wolf,” she said, her voice unsteady. She kicked the table by accident as she stood. She dropped her purse onto the floor and bent to pick it up, the scratchy fabric of her dress straining against her little behind.
    Wolf sincerely regretted disappointing her. He was disappointed. She might be a bad liar, but she had nerve, and she was a luscious little peach. “Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Holmes,” he said. She caught her trembling, rosebud lip between her teeth and extended her hand. He shook it. It was as soft as petals. She let him hold it a moment too long, and took a deep, sad, quivering breath. A button popped off the front of her frock, revealing an oval of creamy white, and before he could stop his mouth it said, “You're hired.”

    Sweat beaded on Wolf's brow as he led Anna among the desks to meet the man in charge. His lips stretched in a tense smile, his skin a little paler than before he had hired Anna. “Captain Wells, may I present Mrs. Anna Holmes, our lovely new assistant matron. She types, speaks Spanish, but most importantly, she's nervy. I say that's a vital quality for a matron who will be venturing into unsavory territory.”
    Unlike Wolf, the captain looked Anna straight in the eye. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Holmes.”
    â€œLikewise,” Anna said with the hint of a curtsy.
    â€œYou'll report to Matron Clemens.” The captain gestured toward the woman he'd been fighting with earlier.
    Matron Clemens narrowed her eyes at him. Anna bobbed her head and sent her new boss an unreciprocated smile.
    The captain exhaled. “Don't mind her. She'll come around. In the meantime, if you have a question or the men offend you, you can talk to me or to Detective Wolf.”
    The captain smiled broadly over Anna's shoulder. “Look Wolf, here comes our lost bird. Aye, she is a little bent.”
    A man in his early twenties, dressed as a female, hung on the station door. He had a cleft chin, a dimpled smile, and a green complexion. Leaves stuck to his bonnet and a twig hung from his drawers, which were visible above his blonde, hairy legs as an inch of his skirt was tucked into his lowers. His blue eyes squinted against the light.Under his breath he sang. “Shine on, shine on, harvest moon, up in the sky. I ain't had no lovin’ since January, April, June, or July…”
    Cheers and whistles rose from the station. Someone shouted. “Nice pegs, Singer!” He curtsied and rallied himself for the journey across the floor.
    Wolf's conversation with Captain Wells on the stairs began to make sense to Anna. This drunken creature belonged buried in leaves at the side of the road.
    Captain Wells held up a bottle and shook it. “You can do it, lad. I've got a little hangover cure here. You'll be right as rain.”
    Officer Singer headed toward the bottle like a hungry toddler just learning to walk. Anna stared. As he wobbled past, his big booted feet stepped on his hem and he fell, grabbing desperately at the air for support. His arms found Anna's tiny waist, and he held on tight. He grinned up at her. “Nice feather.” Just inhaling his breath made Anna feel drunk. She pushed him away with all her might, sending him flat against a nearby wall. Their audience laughed.
    Reaching up in horror, she felt the perky feather clip and flushed a deep rose red. She was ashamed to have accessorized so incongruently. She hurried to unclip it and stuffed it in her pocket. By the time she returned home, the feather would undoubtedly be as bent as the young police officer.
    While Anna was distracted with her hair clip, Officer Singer's mouth opened and he started to gag in the style of a dog that had eaten too much grass. Before she could dodge it, he sprayed the station with whiskey and whatever he had eaten for dinner the previous night, which apparently included spinach and corn. Green, corny chunks of