Chapter 12b

Ben's house was what a realtor might term as 'sympathetically extended'. It was set in decent-sized grounds, laid out neatly but simply. I guessed the Franklins maintained them themselves rather than hire a gardener.

Inside we found Adele and Denise chatting like old friends. Like her husband, Adele was African-American and she was a real beauty. And when we were introduced, I discovered she was polite and well-spoken too. I could only imagine what life had taken away from her by confining her to a wheelchair.

"I've seen that look so many times before," Adele chided. "Don't be sorry for me, I consider myself very lucky. If the horse had kicked me a millimetre away, I would have been totally paralysed below the waist and incontinent too. Although these legs are useless, I can assure you Ben and I have a very active sex life."

I didn't know Ben's black skin could turn quite that shade of red, and Denise nearly wet herself laughing. Clearly Adele had a great personality and sense of humour too so there was no wonder Ben was so anxious to get home every evening.

Denise was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and tight jeans, obviously deciding to set a low bar so that Adele would feel more comfortable. From the front, she filled the jeans spectacularly well. From the rear, I could understand why buttock implants is a growing fad amongst oriental women. Perceptively Denise had brought some casual clothes for me too so that I wouldn't have to wear a formal suit. Ben decided he wanted a shower before he changed so Adele took the opportunity to show us round the ground floor of the house. She explained that because of the extension, everything they needed for everyday life downstairs. Upstairs they kept for guests and storage. I was impressed with how it was carefully laid out so that Adele could do everything for herself. There was a low-level hob so she could do her own cooking, and strategically placed handrails to help her in and out of the wheelchair as necessary.

Adele also showed us her office. She told us she worked for a large advertising agency on a contract basis. Although her hourly rates were usually higher than for salaried employees, overall her total benefits package came to slightly less. However she had declined employee status because being a contractor allowed her to pick and choose the jobs which interested her, rather than those most profitable for the agency. As a case in point, Adele had declined to work on a national campaign for a burger chain in order to work on promotional material for a children's charity, even though it was only a quarter the rate.

Ben appeared wearing smart casual too, so Adele was actually the best dressed, wearing a formal looking pants suit. Denise and Ben loaded her into the minivan then clamped the wheelchair in place before Denise drove us to our dinner destination.

The conference centre cum restaurant looked a well-maintained establishment and Denise had been able to secure us a table. I asked Adele whether she wanted to sit on a restaurant chair but she explained that she preferred to stay in the wheelchair.

"I always have to worry about pressure sores. Although I have to keep moving about, if I'm sitting in one place for any length of time I'm better off in the wheelchair, because it has an air cushion. It even has a 'vibrate' setting to give me a discreet massage," she explained.

Unfortunately there the evening rapidly went downhill. The waiter was a blond-haired man in his early twenties named Kenneth, according to his name-badge, and right from the start his attitude stank. He seemed to be okay with me but had a downer towards the other three, Adele in particular. The last straw came when he slammed Adele's soup down in front of her, causing it to slop over the side and into her lap. He walked away without even a pretense at an apology.

Adele looked down, as though she were used to such treatment. I made to get up but Denise mouthed, 'Leave it to me, ' so I let her deal with it. A short while later we heard shouting from in the kitchen then Kenneth stalked out, throwing his jacket on the ground before leaving the restaurant. For several moments you could have heard a pin drop, then people started talking again and slowly the atmosphere returned to normal.

A short while later Denise returned to the table with an older man in tow.

"This is Pierre Brouchard, the manager," she explained.

"I'm very sorry for your treatment today," said Pierre. "The young man was already on a warning, and he will never set foot in my restaurant again. Please accept my sincere apologies, Mrs Franklin, and send the bill for dry cleaning to me personally. And your meals tonight are on the house."

"Thank you Pierre," said Denise.

"A pleasure as always, Miss Yamikawa."

The rest of the meal went very well. Our replacement waitress was a very nice Latina named Rosa, according to her name-badge, who couldn't have been more polite or attentive. The food was pretty good too, Ben and Adele washed theirs down with a bottle of wine and Rosa managed to rustle up some beer for me but Denise stuck to mineral water since she was driving. Although our meals were on the house, I made sure we left a generous tip.

The restaurant didn't stretch to valet parking so Denise and I left the restaurant ahead of Ben and Adele in order to bring the minibus round to the front entrance.

"Hey you!" came a shout after we turned the corner into the car park.

Denise and I turned to see who was shouting.

"Hey bitch, you got me fired over that nigger crip." It was Kenneth, purple-faced and eyes bulging.

As he stalked menacingly towards Denise, I noticed her subtly flex her muscles and adjust her posture. I had seen that many times before from watching martial arts training at the gym. Denise obviously knew what she was doing and I was confident she could handle things so I stood and watched. As he approached within range, Kenneth clenched his fists and prepared to launch a haymaker at Denise.

At the very last moment, without even thinking I slickly interposed myself between the two, holding my palm towards Kenneth's face as though making a 'stop' gesture. I may have added a little push, but what happened subsequently was principally the result of Kenneth's own momentum.

There was the sickening sound of bone crunching, then Kenneth fell screaming to the ground, holding his face as blood spurted from his shattered nose.

Denise stared at me in total shock.

"You'd better call 911," I said. "My battery's dead."

Moments later a security guard came round the corner. "Are you okay," he shouted. "I saw what happened on our CCTV monitor."

"We're fine," I confirmed while Denise was calling the emergency services.

Ben and Adele came round the corner soon after to find out why we were taking so long just as a police car hurtled into the car park with its siren blaring. The ambulance arrived shortly afterwards.

Kenneth tried to make out that 'those two nigger-lovers got me sacked then attacked me for no reason', but the testimony of the security guard and the CCTV footage quickly assured the police of what actually transpired. Finally we were allowed to load Adele into the minibus and drive home.

Ben and Adele thanked us for the evening out, which they professed to enjoy despite the turn of events. They invited us in for a nightcap but we demurred, explaining that we had an early start the next day. Denise explained to Ben that she had arranged a few appointments for Friday and that in our absence he should try to add one or two more to the list. She also told Ben to take his wife's pants to the hotel the next day and we would get them dry cleaned at the company's expense rather than billing the restaurant.