The Duplex

“Well, things are getting worse,” she began. Then she glanced toward me and kind of gestured with her chin. “Are you sure she’s all right?”

“Yes, Mike, I told you already,” said Agnes.

“Well, things are getting bad. I’m being arrested almost every week now. The usual charge of masquerading, only now it’s like I’m on the LAPD shit list.” She looked right at me, I guess to see if I’d be shocked by the sailor talk. I didn’t blink, and she went on. “I’m on their list now, and I guess I’ve become a regular with them.”

“Oh, you’re anything but regular, Mike,” Agnes said, smiling.

“Tell me about it. Cripes. You know, sometimes they don’t even book me official. That way my friends and family have no idea where I even am for two days.”

“Well, listen, dear,” Agnes continued. “Barbara and I checked the codes like you asked me to, and I’ve got some good news. The courts already ruled on this in 1950. Women are not breaking the law just because they’re wearing men’s clothing. Impersonation is no longer illegal.” Then Agnes handed her a piece of paper.

Mike took the paper and sighed. She looked a little relieved. But her expression did not change much. “Okay. Okay, good. Now we just have to tell those assholes on the beat.”

Agnes looked at me like she expected me to say something so I grabbed the ball. “The fact that we got this information is a great start, Agnes. But listen, ladies, the law is one thing. Enforcement, that is another. Mike, basically you are probably going to have to wait to be arrested again, go to court, and present the judge with the penal codes.”

“That shouldn’t be long. Until I’m arrested again, I mean. I’m surprised I made it through lunch.” I saw a faint hint of a smile.