by R E Swirsky
Chapter 32
Wednesday, December 7th 5:18 pm
Dean was not pleased when Jack showed up and really did not want to see him at all. Jack was insistent, saying he had some evidence that Dean really needed to see.
Dean reluctantly guided Jack into the same interrogation room as before.
“This better be good,” he said.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like there to be another witness in here,” Jack insisted.
Dean shrugged. He was annoyed but easily found an officer to step into the room with them.
Jack pulled the envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Dean. "I just found this today. I totally forgot about Donna having a safety deposit box, so right after court today, I went over to see what was inside. You can go see for yourself at the bank if you want. I didn’t have access to it until today. The box is still there."
Dean grabbed the envelope and pulled out the certificate. "So what's this?" he grunted.
"There's more inside the envelope."
Dean blew into the envelope to open it up wide and looked inside. His breath was immediately taken away by what he saw. He dumped the earring onto the table and stared at Jack.
"For fuck sakes! Is this what I think it is?" He ran his hand back through his hair. "Jesus Christ!"
"I didn't know it was there. This matches the one from the jewelry box. I'm sure of it. I don't know why Donna would have separated them. But the thing is, maybe the one found in Josh's room did not belong to Donna after all."
Dean was fuming.
"That's the quality certificate from Spence's where I bought them," Jack pointed. "You can verify the quality on all three pieces, can't you?"
Jack knew they could, and Jack knew Dean's team had not checked the quality of the one they found under Josh's bed and compared it to the one in the jewelry box. If they had, they would have seen that they were slightly different. When Jack purchased the second set in Vancouver, he made sure the quality of the diamond was a lower grade in both color and clarity. They were close enough, but they were definitely different from the nicer ones when compared to the quality certificate.
Dean sighed. He looked at the officer standing next to him and clearly understood why Jack wanted the officer in the room.
"We'll check this out. Thanks for bringing these in," Dean said to Jack sarcastically.
"I think you need to tell people about this right away," Jack said and looked at the officer and Dean. "You testified in court today about this evidence, and I think there was a mistake made. Do you think I should go tell Fred and Tracey?" Jack added to make his point clear.
Dean's face was turning beet red in color, but he controlled his voice and temper. "Leave this to me to deal with. And you stay away from the Andersons. Do not, I repeat, do not, talk to them or I will charge you with obstruction. This is evidence and you will say nothing to anyone. You hear me?"
Jack nodded. He excused himself and left Dean and the officer to stare at the new evidence laid out on the table.
Jack was pleased. Dean was upset, and it made him very happy. Dean would have to deal with the issue right away; the earring was a key piece of evidence for the prosecution. Everything was happening according to plan.
Jack was not finished. The Andersons were next. Jack called Fred on his Blackberry. Dean told him to stay away and not speak to them. Well, that just was not going to happen. But it wasn’t the earring that Jack would be calling about. He had a different seed to plant.
Fred answered almost immediately.
"Fred, it's Jack."
"Oh."
"Fred. I need to speak with you."
"Uh, Jack. I don't really think that's a good idea. We're pretty upset over here right now."
"No. Fred, it's important. Really important."
"Not now, Jack," Fred said and hung up.
Jack had to talk to Fred. If this was to go down the way he planned, he needed to talk to Fred tonight.
He drove back to the house. His mother was still watching Dancing with the Stars. He sat down next to her while he decided what to do. He considered calling Fred again, but he knew Fred would just hang up again.
He called out for Chinese and chatted with his mother about the trial. She really did not understand what Jack was up to and said she saw that boy who was out back yesterday in the courtroom. Jack really wanted to avoid discussing anything about David. He excused himself and said he was going for a walk.
Jack put on his coat and headed out the back door. He looked over at Fred's house and knew he had to do it. He walked over and rang the doorbell at the back. Fred came to the door and was not pleased to see Jack standing there. Jack pleaded with Fred to come for a short walk with him. He said it could make all the difference for Josh.
Hearing Josh’s name, Fred relented. He said nothing to Tracey as he slipped out the back door with Jack.
Fred followed Jack out to the river path where they walked down a few properties and stopped.
"So what's so important that you have to hound me about it?"
"The guitar wire has me wondering. Maybe it's nothing, but I just got to thinking."
Fred furled his eyebrows.
"I used to play the guitar, Fred. Many years ago."
"So?"
"Well, I changed a lot of guitar strings. All the time. Some break. Sometimes I just changed them to a different type."
Fred shifted back and forth from one foot to the other. He was anxious to leave. "I don’t understanding you at all. I'm going back home now," he said and turned away.
Jack grabbed Fred’s arm, and Fred tried to pull away as anger contorted his face. "Leave me, Jack!" he shouted.
Jack let go of his arm. "Damn it! Listen, Fred!" This was supposed to be subtle. It was supposed to just be a seed he was planting. This had suddenly grown to the size of a boulder, so Jack just let it drop. "Guitar strings are not all the same!"
Fred stopped, confused by Jack's forcefulness, and waited for more.
"Sometimes when I played the guitar I would change the strings just to change the sound. Just because the guitar string looks like an e-string doesn't mean it's the same e-string."
Fred shook his head. He still didn’t understand.
Jack lowered his voice. "I was just thinking that many e-strings look the same, but they are not. They have different sounds depending how they are wound and depending on the size and material. I just thought you might want to ask if the e-string found around Donna's neck was the exact same as the ones that came off his guitar when it was new. Just a thought."
Fred was listening carefully as Jack carried on. "You saw the evidence and how it was presented. Did anyone give a part number for the strings found in Josh's room? No. And did anyone give a part number of the guitar string found around Donna's neck? No. So how do we know that guitar string is the same as what was originally on the guitar when it was new?"
"Oh come on now, Jack," Fred responded. "That's reaching pretty far. There was one missing from Josh's set and it's the same string found around her neck."
"You sound like the detectives now; you are assuming what you hear is what you see. You're thinking the same as they have since they discovered Josh plays the guitar, and even you aren't going to ask the question?" Jack raised his hands in submission to Fred. "Okay, Okay, maybe I'm reaching a bit far. I just thought something was missing during the evidence today, and I couldn't let it pass, that's all. I'm sorry for bothering you like this."
Jack walked away from Fred, but he could see Fred had heard him loud and clear. That was one hard fucking seed to plant, Jack thought. He was pretty sure Fred was going to ask the question.
Jack returned to the house. The Chinese food arrived. He thought again about the guitar string as he dished out a plateful.
He had checked out Josh's guitar last summer after spotting the used guitar strings in Josh's bedside table. He
researched what strings that particular guitar was sold with, and it did not really matter what strings Josh had replaced them with. It was the D'Addario EJ 17 with the part number PB056 that was originally installed in the lower e-string position on Josh's guitar. All of the other original strings were now wound up and stuffed back inside each one of the little D'Addario packages. After Jack pocketed the e-string from Josh's room, he purchased a different string, the EJ 18 D'Addario e-string. The part number was different, PB059, and the string was slightly different. To the average person, they looked the same, but when inspected closely, they were identifiable by the gauge of wire used in the winding of the string. Jack simply took the used string, tossed it away, and replaced it with the new string he purchased. He, of course, wound it and cut it so it had the trademark twists and bends of a used guitar wire at first glance.
Would Fred act on his suggestion? Jack was hoping he would. He would find out tomorrow.
Jack sat next to his mother on the couch. She turned off the TV. She obviously wanted to talk.
"It really bothers me, Jack. About Donna…the prosecution saying all of those things about Donna seeing other guys."
"Me too," Jack replied.
"I mean, I expect them to say these kinds of things just to build their case. Nasty stuff like this is always brought up during trials, but still..."
Jack could see his mother was disturbed by something, and Jack was pretty sure he knew what it was.
"But what, mom?"
"Well. It's just that condom. That really bothers me."
Jack nodded and hugged his mother. "I bet it does."
"So you have to tell me the truth here, Jack. I know you." She lifted her finger in the air as if to make a point and then reconsidered. She poked him in the ribs instead. "If she was fooling around on you and you knew, you'd tell me, wouldn't you? Did you know, Jack?"
"No, mom. If she was, I didn't know about it. And I still don't think she was…I don’t care what they found in the trash."
"Hmmph," his mother grunted. Jack wasn’t sure what that meant.
Jack knew Donna was not fooling around. He thought back to the night at Motel Village. He took a deep breathe again and looked at his mother. He hugged her again and started to cry.
Louisie hugged Jack back. "It's okay, Jack. It's okay," she said.
But Jack was not crying for the reasons his mother thought. He was crying because of what happened in that hotel room that cool summer night in the early days of September.
Jack had closed the door to the seedy motel room and ushered the young man towards the bed. The only light in the room was from the discolored lamp on the bedside table. A single cloth chair with dark stains sat opposite the foot of the bed. The tattered top cover and bedding were pulled back, exposing just the white bed sheet and pillows. A number of items were laid out next to the bed on the bedside table.
"What's your name?" Jack asked.
"Tony." The young man smiled. He was anxious to begin.
Jack knew Tony was not the kid’s real name.
"Tony," Jack smiled back at him. He motioned Tony to the bed. "Lie down, Tony."
As Tony hopped over to the side of the bed, Jack sat down near the foot of the bed on the chair and kept his glasses and coat on.
"What's your name?" Tony asked.
"You can call me Johnny, if you want. That's not my real name, but it'll do for tonight."
Tony nodded back. "So what you want, Johnny?" Tony asked while slowly removing his coat, boots and socks. When he was done, he tucked the pillows up to the top the bed and lay back against them in just a white t-shirt and blue jeans.
Jack watched the young man, not sure of what he was supposed to say. He had never done anything like this before, and it certainly felt dirty and cheap. Jack couldn’t believe he was actually going through with this, but it was too late to stop now. Tony was just a few feet away, poised and waiting to perform whatever sexual acts Jack requested. It certainly was all about the money.
"Take your shirt off," he said.
Tony grinned. His white teeth seemed to shine excessively bright when they caught the light from the bedside lamp. He pulled his tight white t-shirt over the top of his head. His lean thin body was attractive to Jack in some way. His skin was white, his body was hard, and his chest was hairless and well-toned.
"I like to watch," Jack said calmly. "I just like to watch. I'll tell you what to do and when to do it. Are you okay with that?"
Tony nodded. "I have lots that like to watch. I can do more if you want. I can go down on you or you can go down..."
"Quiet," Jack interjected. He didn't even want to hear the words Tony was about to say, and Jack felt a wave of nausea flow over him.
"Please, just do as I say…and do it slowly."
Tony grinned again, propped the pillows up higher, and leaned back against the pillows with hands behind his head and his bare feet crossed.
"Okay, I am going to ask you to do a number of different things in the next while. Some of them may seem very odd to you, but it's just what I enjoy."
Tony nodded again. "I can do anything you want. Anything."
Jack sat staring at Tony. Tony lay there smiling with an extreme easiness about him. Jack could not understand it. He had expected the opposite—an awkwardness and apprehension from both parties, one buyer and one seller, each wanting to best the other. But it was not so.
Jack asked Tony to look at the table beside him. "See that brush? I want you take that brush and brush your hair forward as hard as you can. I want your hair fluffed up, so get on your knees hang your head down towards the bed facing me and brush that hair as hard as you can."
Tony did not even flinch as he grabbed the brush, looked at Jack, and asked, "You want me to do this naked?"
Jack flinched and felt like he was going to fall off his chair. He really needed to take this slow.
"Not yet. Just as you are."
"Okay," Tony responded. He took the position and brushed the Mohawk style spikes out of his hair. He laughed and grunted playfully as he brushed his hair. He twisted and turned his body, tossing his hair forward and back, while still kneeling. Jack felt strangely aroused by Tony's actions, and he simply watched, letting Tony continue for nearly ten minutes. Tony seemed to enjoy what he was doing.
"Stop," Jack instructed Tony. "That's enough."
Tony looked up at Jack, his deep black hair was now full of body and surrounded his head like the mane of a young lion in his prime. He sat back onto his heels. Jack looked at the muscle-toned chest of the lean young man and was unsure if he could bring himself to make the next command, but he could not stop what was already started.
Tony, sensing what Jack was about to ask, pointed one finger down to the buckle of his tight jeans. Jack nodded, and swallowed hard. Tony fell gently on to his back, pulled his jeans off, and tossed them to the floor. He left only his white jockey shorts on. His genitals pushed out hard against the cotton fabric.
Tony began to move sexually and rhythmically while on his knees. He stuck one finger in his mouth and pointed down once again to his jockey shorts.
Jack nodded again.
Tony moved slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Jack as he removed his white shorts. He was then utterly naked and moving provocatively in a cadence only Tony could hear.
Jack wanted to turn away, but he did not dare. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried to breathe. He was not really doing this was he? He opened his eyes back up and there was Tony on his hands and knees facing Jack, his hard erection was visible and demanded a purpose for its impermanent existence.
Jack's nausea increased, and he struggled on. He had passed the point of no return. His breathing became shallow and rapid as he fought for some focus on what he was trying to accomplish.
He instructed Tony to lie back against the pillows and to once again grab the brush and to once again brush his hair. But n
ot the hair on his head. Jack wanted to see him brushing his pubic hairs with the brush.
“All around, top and bottom,” Jack demanded with forced excitement in his voice. He wanted to see that hair as fluffed as much as possible. “Brush hard! I want to see pubic hairs on the bed sheet by the time you’re done,” he said.
Jack watched, closing his eyes often as Tony grabbed hold of himself sensually and stroked the brush deliberately across his pubic hairs. Tony smiled all the time and laughed. He enjoyed putting on the display. He often looked at the bed sheet and pointed as he spotted another pubic hair that had fallen out.
Jack swallowed hard again and forced out the next instruction. This was more difficult than Jack could have ever imagined, and he felt like he was now outside his own body, maybe in a dream, instructing someone else to say these words. He knew the words would forever be stored in his brain as foreign, spoken by someone else.
"Okay now. I want you to slowly masturbate, but not all the way."
Tony nodded, lay back against the pillows once again, and began to do as Jack comanded. Jack closed his eyes.
"Spit on your hand, please. Lots."
Tony did as ordered and continued using his saliva as a lubricant as Jack watched from the chair. Tony smiled as he worked himself, teasing Jack with a sensuality the kid had come to perfect.
Jack kept his eyes closed, but he could not block out what he was hearing as Tony responded to Jack's command. He added his own moans with each stroke he set upon himself.
After a number of minutes, Jack instructed him to stop, to wipe himself off with the tissue on the bedside table and to toss the tissue into the trashcan by the side of the bed.
"Now the condom. Put the condom on."
Tony grabbed it, and ripped the package open with his teeth. The condom was a lubricated one that Jack purchased earlier.
"You want me to do you up the ass?" Tony asked. "I can do you or jack you if you want."
Jack felt very sick now and was beginning to feel very dizzy. He was sweating, and he wiped his forehead. He just shook his head. "I just watch. That's all I do," Jack repeated.
Tony expertly rolled the condom on as Jack tried not to watch, but a part of him knew it was necessary that he see what was going on.
"Okay it's time. I want you to finish now. In the condom."
Jack maintained his position, unmoving as Tony massaged himself slowly. Jack did not enjoy this at all. The dark, controlling part of him laughed; it enjoyed what Jack had reduced himself to. The decent part of what remained within Jack reeled in horror of what it was seeing.
Tony continued to roll his body and twist about, sticking his tongue out and licking his lips as he pleased himself. He slid down on the bed and arched his back, twisting and moving to put on a show Jack knew would be forever etched into the dark depths of his memory.
After a number of minutes, Tony arched his back high into the squalid air of this seedy hotel room and emptied himself into the condom. He released a tiny squeal.
When he was done, Jack asked him to remove the condom, drop it into the trash, and get dressed. A few minutes later, Jack was down three hundred dollars out of pocket, and Tony was on his way out the door.
Jack immediately latched the door after Tony left. He dashed to the bathroom and vomited.
