by Hank Edwards
"Keep your tits on," the doorman shouted back.
A song Pearce remembered from the 90s pounded over the sound system. Off to his left, a dance floor was packed with people, costumed and otherwise. A small booth was tucked into a corner, illuminated with strings of multicolored lights in a variety of shapes: penises, chili peppers, flamingos, and stars. Calvin stood in the midst of the colored lights, wearing a set of headphones as he cued up the next song.
"Want a drink?" Mark asked, raising his voice to be heard over the music.
"Yeah, get me a beer." Pearce handed Mark some money and watched him wade into the crowd.
He scanned the crowd as he waited for Mark to return. Several men stared back at him, but Pearce kept his gaze moving, not making eye contact for very long. Standing there on his own—even with Mark nearby to prevent him from following through on anything he might wish to pursue—Pearce felt again that sense of having moved on. He didn't miss the bar scene, and though he and Mark weren't always perfect together, he thought they were more compatible than he'd ever expected to find in a partner.
"They didn't have your usual, but I got you a nice Canadian beer," Mark said as he returned and handed over the bottle. "I hope that passes your stringent guidelines."
Pearce noticed some men standing at the bar turn to look at Mark's ass, and he pulled him in for a quick kiss, just to prove to those watching that the both of them were spoken for. When Pearce stepped back, Mark grinned up at him.
"What was that for?"
"To say thank you."
"Yeah, all right." Mark cupped Pearce's crotch and raised his eyebrows. "That's my version of you're welcome."
Pearce grinned. "I'm going to remember that."
"I hope so."
He took Mark's hand and headed toward the dance floor. "Come on, let's go visit Calvin."
The deejay booth was enclosed on all sides with a long open window facing the dance floor where a narrow counter had been installed. A sign had been taped to the bottom of the counter that read DON'T PUT YOUR FUCKING DRINKS ON HERE! Pearce shared a grin with Mark, then watched Calvin moving to the beat of the music, headphones tight over his ears. Pearce waved until Calvin looked up, his furrowed brow smoothing and his frown switching to a big smile at the sight of them. He held up five fingers, which Pearce assumed meant wait five minutes, and he nodded.
"Let's dance!" Mark said into Pearce's ear.
Before Pearce could issue a protest, Mark had dragged him out on the dance floor. Pearce moved to the music, trying not to feel too self-conscious about it. He had never been big on dancing. He liked to get his cardio on a treadmill or elliptical. But being there with Mark, seeing him dance like he didn't have a care in the world, kept Pearce on the floor. He put an arm around Mark's waist and pulled him in close, swaying in time as he rubbed against him.
Sweat ran down his face since he still wore the leather coat, and just as he was about to tell Mark he needed to stop, he saw Calvin waving to him from the deejay booth. Pearce tipped his head in that direction, and Mark nodded, then followed him off the dance floor and around to the side of the booth where a door provided access. It opened, and instead of inviting them inside, Calvin stepped out. He was dressed in a white short-sleeved button-down shirt, and bright green and yellow lederhosen. He hugged them both, then shouted for them to follow him and led the way through the dancers toward the bar.
Pearce glanced back at the deejay booth, but it looked empty. Apparently Calvin had selected a long enough mix version to give him time to talk. Calvin walked to the other side of the bar from the deejay booth where he stepped through a door, and they followed. It was a cramped and tiny break room that smelled of stale beer. Depleted beer kegs and boxes of empty liquor bottles crowded around a small table with three chairs.
"Welcome to my office," Calvin said as he took a seat.
"I love the costume," Mark said as he sat beside Calvin.
Calvin grinned. "Everyone should have a spare lederhosen in the back of their closet."
"How long do we have?" Pearce asked, taking the seat next to Mark.
"I put together a mix CD awhile ago," Calvin replied. "Runs for about twenty minutes and gives me enough time to use the bathroom and flirt a bit before I need to get back. I'll know when it's time by the song that's playing."
"Always thinking ahead," Mark said.
"Not according to my 401k." They all laughed, and then Calvin turned to Pearce with a serious expression. "Okay, let's talk about Erik."
"Absolutely," Pearce said. "How well did you know him?"
"Pretty well, actually. Like I told Mark earlier, we worked together at the LGBTQ Community Center, and I helped him get his Gay Gamers group set up."
"Was he seeing anyone?" Pearce asked.
"Not that he told me," Calvin replied. "And not that I could tell from how he acted. There are seven members in that group, and all of them are pretty torn up about his death."
"Anyone acting differently from the others?" Mark asked. Since it was a good question, and one he would have gotten to eventually, Pearce restrained himself from instructing Mark to let him ask the questions.
"Not in ways that have stood out to me," Calvin replied. "I mean, people handle grief in different ways, right?"
"What about the bars he liked to frequent?" Pearce asked. "Know what he liked to do in his spare time?"
Calvin shrugged. "Not really much of anything that I know of. He was pretty much a hardcore game player, so from what I could tell, he was home and playing video games every night."
"Sounds familiar," Mark said. "Just without the video games."
Calvin reached out to pat his hand. "And yet, here you are! Look at you getting outside of your comfort zone."
"All right," Pearce said with a frown. "Let's stay focused."
"Sorry," Calvin and Mark said at the same time, then grinned at each other.
Pearce rolled his eyes before asking, "Would Erik have been likely to enjoy or participate in forms of more extreme sex play?"
Calvin looked to Mark, then back at Pearce. "Like what? Watersports? Fisting? What are you referring to?"
"We've been wondering if maybe the victims might have been lured away by the promise of darker sex acts like choking or shared auto asphyxiation, something like that."
Pearce was glad to see Calvin give the idea serious consideration before he shook his head. "Honestly, I can't say that's something that would have appealed to Erik. He really, truly was just a kid in his early twenties who liked to play video games, and he wanted to set up a group to share that with gay kids in the area."
"Anyone in the group he was especially close with?" Mark asked, and Pearce again restrained himself from asking him to keep quiet. Mark was asking good questions.
"There were a couple kids he seemed to spend more time with," Calvin replied. "They're brothers, Hunter and Kent Greene. Hunter is the younger one, and he and Kent usually came to meetings early and stayed late." Calvin shook his head. "Hunter is having a hard time with Erik's death."
"How old is Hunter?" Pearce asked.
"Oh, hell, I'd have to look at his application form," Calvin said, "but I'd say he's twelve if that."
"Too young to be a killer?" Mark asked, looking at Pearce.
"Never know. I'd like to talk to everyone in the group."
"I can arrange that," Calvin said. "They've started meeting again. The group decided Erik would have wanted them to keep things going."
"That's a nice tribute," Mark said.
"That's what they thought." Calvin cocked his head and listened to the song. "I've got about five minutes left."
"When does the group meet?" Pearce asked.
"Saturday mornings at eleven," Calvin replied, then grinned. "Think you can get up that early tomorrow after prowling the bars tonight?"
Pearce huffed a breath. "I'll be coming from the FBI office, so yes." He looked at Mark. "Not sure if you should be there."
"I'd like to be there,"
Mark said, and from his expression, Pearce knew it would be a battle to keep him away.
"If the kids are all underage, we'll need to have their parents present," Pearce said. "Do you think that can be arranged?"
"I can send out emails using my phone once I'm back in the deejay booth, and I'll make some calls in the morning," Calvin replied. "Most of the kids get dropped off by their parents, so I'll see if they can hang around."
"I would really appreciate that," Pearce said.
"And just know that I collect on appreciations at some point," Calvin said. "Isn't that right, Mark?"
"Oh, he collects all right," Mark said. "With interest."
Calvin smiled and got up. "And with that, gentlemen, it's time for me to get back to my tiny little booth and make these bitches dance."
Pearce and Mark laughed and followed Calvin out of the room. The crowd had grown since they'd been talking, and people were packed tight together, both at the bar and on the dance floor. Calvin gave both of them a tight hug before he threaded his way through the crowd, greeting people as he went.
"Want another beer?" Mark asked.
Pearce nodded and handed Mark cash. He found an open spot along the wall and leaned against it with one foot up to balance himself. He kept his gaze on the floor as he thought about what Calvin had told them. He didn't think the gay gamer group would net them any concrete leads, but he would be remiss not to talk to them. If the parents weren't available tomorrow morning, he and Jake could arrange follow-up visits to the houses at a more convenient time.
A sense of exhaustion crept up on him, and he really wanted to be out of the noise and crowd.
Mark was still far back in line at the bar, so he walked up to him and leaned down to say, "Want to head out of here?"
"Yeah, sure," Mark shouted back.
Pearce grabbed his hand and led him through the crowd and out the door. A few people standing in line whistled and catcalled at them as they walked toward the parking lot and away from the throng.
"Where are we going?" Mark asked.
Pearce made a face. "Care if we just go back to the room?"
Mark looked relieved, and that made Pearce feel better. "Sounds good to me." He pulled out his phone and tapped the Lyft app to summon their ride.
24
The following morning before he left for the office, Mark finally got Pearce to begrudgingly agree to allow him to attend the questioning of the gay gamer group at the community center. Mark ate breakfast in the hotel diner, then decided to drive himself and retrieved his car keys from the room. He arrived before Pearce and found Calvin in his office doing paperwork.
"I'll be done in a jiffy or seven," Calvin said.
"I'll wait down in the coffee shop," Mark said.
"Order me a latte," Calvin called after him, "and tell whoever's working to put both of our drinks on my tab."
Mark ordered his usual medium roast coffee with a shot of espresso along with Calvin's latte and sat at a table near the windows. As he waited, he scrolled through his Facebook newsfeed but found nothing to like or comment on. A check of his email revealed nothing of importance, and he set his phone aside.
Calvin approached just as Pearce arrived along with a handsome man whom Mark assumed was his case partner, Jake Perrin.
"Jake Perrin, this is Mark Beecher," Pearce said.
Mark stood and smiled as he shook Jake's hand. "Good to meet you."
"I've heard a lot about you," Jake said, then tipped his head in Pearce's direction. "Not sure how you put up with him."
"All right now," Pearce said. "Agent Perrin, this is Calvin Gilbert. He's been helping us organize all of this today."
"We appreciate the help," Jake said.
"I've contacted all of the parents and let them know what you want to do," Calvin explained. "A few were more than a little frustrated at the lack of notice, but I explained how important it was, and I'm pretty sure all the kids will be here, accompanied by at least one of their parents."
Pearce nodded. "That's really great, Calvin, thank you."
"It's hitting a little close to home for them, I think," Calvin confided in a low voice. "I think they've come to accept that their child is gay, or at least questioning his or her sexuality, and seeing these murders in the community have really frightened them."
"Let's hope we can get some information from one of them," Jake said. "Where are we working?"
"We'll be in the Stonewall Room," Calvin said, and led them down a short hallway to a medium-sized conference room. Several rows of plastic chairs faced the front of the room where two long tables were set up end to end.
"Is there a separate smaller room we can use for the interviews?" Pearce asked.
"Yeah," Jake said. "We want to keep the other kids from overhearing what's being said."
"Sure, you can use the office across the hall." Calvin showed them to a small office with a desk and two chairs. "We'll just bring in a few more chairs for the kids and their parents."
"Sounds great." Pearce looked at Mark. "Would you mind sitting in the main room with the kids? Keep an eye on things?"
Mark nodded. "I can do that."
The kids started arriving soon after, some accompanied by both parents, some with just one. Pearce and Jake took them one by one across the hall, leaving the rest in the room with Mark. A young boy arrived, accompanied by a man much too young to be his father.
"Hi there," Mark greeted them. "I'm Mark Beecher. What are your names?"
"I'm Hunter Grady," the younger boy replied.
"Hi, Hunter." Mark looked at the man accompanying him. "And you're too young to be his father."
The man gave a quick nod. "I'm his brother, Kent."
"Okay," Mark said. "I know that the agents wanted at least one parent to accompany the group members."
"I'm twenty," Kent replied.
"That's good, but are you Hunter's official guardian?"
"No!" Hunter practically shouted, then looked nervously up at Kent. "Sorry."
"Our Dad is busy today, so he asked me to bring him," Kent replied, ignoring his brother's outburst.
"Well, have a seat, and I'll talk to the agents when they're finished the first interview."
Kent and Hunter sat with an empty chair between them, and each produced a phone to stare at.
A mother sitting the row behind them sighed and asked, "Will this take long? We have a Halloween party tonight to get ready for." A young girl sitting beside her with long bright-purple hair rolled her eyes.
"I don't think it will take very long," Mark replied. "But they do want to be thorough, so they'll make sure they ask for more details when needed."
"Do they have any suspects?" asked a father sitting with his son in the same row.
Before Mark could reply, the mother let out a bark of a laugh. "If they had, do you think we'd be sitting here?"
"Mom…" the purple-haired girl said. "You promised."
"They've got no leads?" the father asked. "After five murders and all this time, they're not close to a suspect? What about this man we've seen on the news?" He snapped his head around to look at his son who was squirming in his chair. "Dylan, stop fidgeting."
Dylan rolled his eyes but became still as he stared at his iPhone. "Can we go?"
"Soon," the father replied. "This is important, you know that. This could help the police find who killed Erik."
"All of the kids really liked Erik," the father said to Mark. "I think his death has hit them pretty hard."
"It's tough to lose someone you're close to at such a young age," Mark said.
"And so violently," the mother added.
"Mom!" her daughter exclaimed.
"What? He was strangled, right?" She looked at Mark, but before he could reply, she turned back to her daughter. "Or isn't that considered violent any more since you've been playing your video games?"
Her daughter rolled her eyes again and crossed her arms as she looked away. The mother moved a lock of purple hair o
ff her daughter's forehead, then smiled sadly when the girl pulled away.
She looked at Mark and asked, "Do you have children?"
Mark was saved from having to respond by Pearce appearing in the doorway. "Who's next?"
The mother stood up immediately, then looked to the others in the room. "Do you mind? We have a commitment in a little while."
"No problem," the father said.
"Sure, go ahead," Kent replied, then waved to the girl. "Hi, Liz."
The girl smiled. "Hi, Kent. We miss you leading us in Warcraft."
"You guys do all right," Kent said.
The woman and her daughter left the room with Pearce. Mark smiled at Kent who returned a stare.
"Are you with the FBI?" Kent asked.
"Not in an official basis," Mark replied. "I've worked with them on cases in the past."
Kent turned his attention back to his phone, and the room fell silent.
Mark checked his own phone but stole glances at the two boys. Hunter, the younger one, had longer hair that fell across his forehead and partially obscured his eyes. He was skinny and had dark circles under his eyes that made Mark wonder if he stayed up late at night playing video games. Kent, the older brother, looked like he followed a strict workout regimen that had helped him develop a broad chest and muscular arms. His dark hair was cut very short, and he also sported dark patches under his eyes.
Seeing these boys with the bruised skin beneath their eyes made Mark thankful he had grown up before mobile technology had become such a way of life. Even now, Mark liked to keep his phone at the far end of the nightstand when he went to bed; he didn't like to tempt himself to check email or Facebook notifications if he woke up at night.
"I know I'll sound like the woman who was just in here," the father sitting behind Kent and Hunter said. "But will it be very much longer, do you know?"
Mark shook his head. "I don't know, sorry. They're going to be as thorough as possible."
"Yeah, I know." He looked over at his son, Dylan. "Just have things to do, don't we, buddy?"
Dylan mumbled, "Yeah." The father looked up at Mark and rolled his eyes. "Kids."
Mark grinned but didn't respond. He was about to look down at his own phone again when another mother and daughter walked in the room. The young girl greeted the boys, including Kent, with an embarrassed wave, and Mark explained to the mother how the questioning was being handled.
