Lower Class

"And what happened after you two left the bar together?" Detective Bergmann said as he scribbled into his notebook. The question sounded casual, and smelled very, very intent.

"I was getting to that," Brittle said, "but nothing. We parted ways at the corner of State and 4th when I excused myself to go into the grocery store at the corner and use their restroom. If you interview the bar's patrons, they will attest there was no sexual contact during our time together, and we were in full public view until I left him."

"And you didn't meet him privately later?"

"I am not a prostitute, Detective Bergmann. I say this both as a matter of legality and of fact. Myself and my hive are in compliance with all Earth laws. More directly, the entire point of my story is that I have no desire to be a prostitute. If I did, I would not choose to be at Green Hills University, taking academic piecework from college students and splitting an apartment six ways. Yes, five hundred dollars per hour sounded ridiculous by my personal standards, but I have escort friends in the city who regularly make twice that rate feeding the egos of lonely businessmen."

"That's not the only reason you might leave the city," Bergmann pressed. "You might have arrest warrants, or have upset the wrong people there, or you might be too inexperienced for high-end work—"

"I'm sure you already ran my record, detective," Brittle interrupted. "As for the rest, you can believe me or not, but I'm telling you the truth."

"I'm sure you are." Bergmann flipped back a page. "Like when you mentioned knowing a friend who could be Harvey's rut-buddy?"

"My exact words were that I may know someone, and there was no implication of payment. As you were going to discover if you had let me continue, I have strong feelings about the idea of helping compatible people find each other." Brittle briefly glanced over at Dean White, took a deep breath through her nose to confirm both of the humans' scents, and turned back to Bergmann to take a calculated risk. "Detective, if you would like to turn this into a pointless fishing expedition about solicitation, I will answer all further questions with my lawyer present. But I don't believe that is why the three of us are in the room."

At the mention of lawyers, Dean White narrowed her eyes, shooting the detective a subtle glare. Bergmann locked eyes with her, then put up his hands placatingly and leaned back in his chair. "There's no need to make this formal, Miss Brittle. We're just here to talk."

Brittle suppressed a smile—she'd read that one correctly. White and Bergmann's relationship definitely read as more friendly than professional, meaning that the dean wanted her policeman friend there as an implied threat to do some fishing of her own. Something Brittle was, fortunately, happier to oblige.

"So the thing you have to understand about Harvey is…"