Perfect Love

by A.M. Burns

19

  The early morning sunlight blazed platinum, forcing me to wear my sunglasses as we drove down the street. Xan Landron lived a little too close to the office for comfort. Based on the personality he exhibited the night of the get together, he might be the type to just show up unannounced and try to help out on the case. I’ve always tried to be nice to people and do my best not to offend them unless it’s absolutely necessary. You never know when you need to get information out of someone, and if you’ve had trouble with them in the past, getting reliable info out of them was much more difficult. Like most large cities, Dallas had a gay ghetto. Our home/office was located along the better part of it, a bit further from the bars and closer to the upscale shops. Xan's efficiency apartment was in the heart of the roughest part, just a block from the Oilers club, a notorious leather bar that catered to the rough trade guys.

  As we looked for a parking place, I thought back over the night before. Carmine hadn’t been pleased with Henry's death, but she was already working on the mountain of paperwork caused by the death of a Council member. I never really understood the need for all of it, but it was something that happened, and for some reason, Carmine never liked letting any of her underlings to it for her. She was very concerned about the thought of another naga on the loose and had a team working on covering the area to find it. Coyote's Fort Worth members showed up right before we left. We asked them to go over the area again since Dusty and I already had already gone over it after we found Henry's body. Unfortunately they didn't find anything else, not even a scent trail, but my gut told me there was still something out there and another naga or something else from the plane of fire wasn’t something I was in the mood to deal with, not with someone already killing witches and wers in my city.

  Sam was going to be okay in a few days. Her wounds would’ve killed a normal human, but her wer metabolism handled the damage a lot easier. Silver refused to leave her side until she woke up. So far that had not happened, but Coyote's medic was unconcerned since her vitals were strong and it was not uncommon for a gravely-wounded wer to fall into an almost coma-like state while their body repaired the damage. I hoped that Sam would be up fairly quickly. Her attack shook Coyote up worse than he was letting on. The faster Sam was back on her feet, the faster Coyote would be back to normal too. Right now the wer community didn’t need an unstable wolf alpha. It made problems grow much faster and that was probably what the person behind all of this wanted.

  On the third trip around the block, a space opened up in front of the local newsstand. I’d begun to think about just driving back to the house and walking over. Being the party animals that most gay men are, you wouldn’t think they’d be out in large numbers on Sunday morning. But here in Dallas, the thing to do was get up and show up for the Sunday socials that most of the bars held starting at ten a.m. A couple of them had even started serving a breakfast buffet until it was legal for them to serve liquor. A line of people waited to get into one of the diners just down the street.

  “You know, one of these Sunday mornings, we need to come down here for breakfast,” Dusty said as he closed the car door. “I hear the food is great and on Sundays they get all the waitstaff to dress in campy drag. It might be good for a change of pace.”

  I shrugged. “I used to go there from time to time a few years back, BD, before Dusty. Yeah, the food’s good, but the campy drag can be overdone.”

  Dusty grabbed my hand and flashed me one of his award-winning smiles. “Ah, just think about it. It might be a lot of fun.”

  I grinned back at him. “I'll think about it.”

  “Cool, so with this line do they take reservations?” he asked as his arm went around my waist and we walked down the sidewalk toward Xan's apartment building.

  “They didn't used to,” I said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “It was first come, first served.” He was in a better mood this morning than I would’ve expected given our rough night and how little sleep we got. But, like so many other things, his enhanced physiology didn’t need a lot of sleep. It made me jealous once in a while, but not often enough to even think about asking him to change me into a werewolf. He might also have been trying to keep me from falling into a dark mood like I’m prone to do when things don’t go the way I think they should. We should’ve been getting closer to a break in the case. There should have been some link between the witches and the wers, but so far it was more like someone had us running around in circles.

  Xan's apartment building had originally been styled after an east coast brownstone back in the 30s, one of the projects that the government had done to try and boost the economy during the Depression. The architecture was classic with tall windows, and I knew from experience that there was a rickety fire escape outside the second through fifth floors. One of those little things that PIs learn during the course of work is which building had what access. Xan's apartment was up on the fifth floor. The morning sunlight lit the stairs enough to see that the carpet had been replaced recently and was no longer the tacky green shag from the 60s. It was still worn enough that it desperately needed a makeover, but it looked like the building’s owner was trying to improve things. There was less graffiti than I remembered and all of the numbers on the doors were actually straight. Like a lot of buildings in this area, it had seen worse times. One thing about gay ghettos, they tend to have just a bit more style than most other ghettos. I’ve heard horror stories about how the area looked back in the 60s before the gays took over; nothing like a bunch of men who all want to be Martha Stewart moving in to spruce up a place. But even with all the men running around festively spicing up the area, there were always a few buildings where the spice just fell flat. Xan's building was one of those. I figured that one day soon some developer would come through with a wrecking ball and a high-rise blueprint and raze it to the ground.

  “Gods this place needs a good cleansing,” Dusty echoed my thoughts, wrinkling his nose as we stepped into the third-floor hallway.

  “You get what you pay for and this is the cheapest apartment building in about a five-mile radius.” The place even came with a psi stink from all the depressed people that lived there, the people who for one reason or another couldn’t afford a better place to live. A lot of the people who lived there were either alcoholics or drug users. I knew for sure that a meth lab was run out of at least one apartment and several male prostitutes had places here as well. It all made for a very oppressive atmosphere. I wondered how a Wiccan such as Xan handled it.

  “Ethan this place is worse than that condemned bordello the pack ran those wererats out of last year.”

  “It's not that bad. At least there are not as many fleas, but I bet the roaches are larger.” I laughed as we made it to the fourth floor. The oppression in the building seemed to increase the higher we got. I wondered if some of it came from Xan, but then I reminded myself that the worse off cases normally lived on the top floor since the rent was cheaper there, particularly in buildings like this that had no elevator. Tenants actually got a price break for having to walk all the way up to their apartment.

  Spotting Xan's apartment proved easy. The door was covered in bright purple glitter paint. It looked like something out of the Joker's nightmare. I hesitated knocking, a fear creeping up my spine at what waited for us on the other side of that screamingly-loud door.

  Dusty touched my arm as I reached to knock. “Can I just wait in the car?” he whispered. “The door scares me.”

  “Oh, come on,” I hissed. "Is the big bad wolf afraid of a little glitter?”

  “You know I am allergic to glitter,” he whined, giving me his sad puppy-dog eyes.

  I shook my head. “No you're not.” The previous year for the big Halloween block party that the bars always threw, we had let Tiffany choose our costumes. We always tried to go as an ensemble, but she’d gone off on a cruel streak. Of course, I was convinced that it was just that time of the month and she was trying to get back at us for her last boyfriend dumping her. Her idea of a gre
at ensemble costume for us was for her to go as a fairy dominatrix and we were her human slaves. There was way too much leather and glitter involved. I think Dusty and I were still getting glitter out of our chest hair at Yule. And that body paint had been just awful. On the upside, we won best ensemble for the party.

  The discussion was closed as the dreadful door flew open and Xan's acne-scarred face peered around the edge. “Hey I thought I felt someone out here,” he grinned and threw the door open. “You guys from E. S. Peters investigations?”

  “I'm Ethan Peters and this is my partner Dusty Davenport,” I replied, introducing us. “And you're Xan Landron?”

  “Yeah. Cool. Come on in.” He stepped aside to let us into the apartment.

  The door was just a preview for what lay inside of the apartment. It looked like a swarm of butterfly fairies had shown up, thrown up and then exploded. Every paintable surface had been covered in brightly-colored paint with glitter added before the paint dried. There was no pattern to the madness. The bright yellow wall was right next to the bright red wall. There was a hideous table that must have at one time had a base coat of black paint then someone with no sense of anything had streaked bright day-glo green paint around in what may have been a horribly failed attempt at a spiral. It was parked under the open window in which several sets of painted pewter fairy wind chimes hung. The two mismatched chairs and sofa were covered in Celtic knot work sheets, while posters of all sorts of rainbows and fairies splattered the walls. It had to be the worst case of rainbow glitter bright fairy syndrome I’d ever seen.

  “So. Wow. You guys think that someone killed Magee?” he bubbled as he closed the door and then bounced across the room. “Please have a seat.” He gesticulated toward the couch as he perched himself on the edge of one of the chairs. The bright glare of his tie-dyed t-shirt clashed horribly with the gold and lavender sheet on the chair.

  “You know I knew something wasn’t right that day she died. The etheric energies were just all wrong the whole time. It’s like they were just screaming out that something was wrong, something evil was happening. And ever since then, all the spirits in town have been in an uproar.” He ran his hands back through his unkempt day-glo red hair that I suspected wasn’t his natural color, but something that came out of a bottle from the same place he’d bought all the glitter.

  “Can you think of anyone who would’ve wanted to harm Magee?” I could tell it was going to be hard to control this interview.

  “Well you know we all loved her, but there were a lot of things from her past. You had to be in her very inner circle to know these things about her, but let's just say that her past was more than a little jaded. I’m sure you know what I mean.” As Xan talked, his hands moved in exaggerated gestures. I wondered if, given enough time, he might have worked up the lift to rise off the edge of the chair and hover.

  I could guess where this was going, but in detective work, it is always best to make sure your source is very clear on the details. “Xan, there are a lot of things that can make a woman's past jaded,” I said, prompting him for details.

  “Yes, of course. Well you see back before she met Reynaldo, she used to work down at the Bearded Clam. Of course, doing that type of work, you know she had self-esteem issues. She was also on some major drugs at the time. And you know that a lot of the girls from the Bearded Clam also work other jobs, and from what I’ve heard, they don't let go easily.” His flying hands came to rest across his crossed knees, a clear indication that he was ready for the next question.

  The Bearded Clam was one of the smaller strip clubs over on Northwest Highway. A couple of years ago, the owner died and his wife, realizing the profit the club made, kept it open. Since then, she ran a very clean place and was as mundane as you come. There was no lead there.

  I crossed the Beaded Clam off my note pad “So what about the get-together group? Since Barry Crabtree and Madeline Fort have also died under mysterious circumstances, there might be a link there.”

  “Wow. You guys know about the get-together group? You guys are good.” He slid back from the edge of his chair. “Well then you must know that on the surface of that little group is all full of love, but I swear to the Goddess that as you get to know them they are a bunch of hideous little vipers waiting to just stab people in the back. That Mad’s one of the worst. Why just the other night I was trying my best to offer her all the comfort the group could call together after poor Barry was killed and she just turned on me. I can well understand why her dogs would go off and attack her. She probably turned on them all the time. And poor little Alexia, such a sweet girl. I 'm sure that Barry the brute just pushed her until she couldn't take it anymore. Why anyone would find that man even remotely attractive is beyond me. Did you know he smelled? And his clothes, it’s one thing to shop at Walmart but it’s a totally different thing to look like you shop there.”

  I stifled a comment about glass houses as I glanced around the gaudy room. I figured he might not shop at Walmart, but he defiantly looked like hippy Goodwill.

  “Why would Barry have pushed Alexia to kill him?” I knew what killed Barry, but some of Xan's opinions might be helpful. He might even come up with a good idea among all the bitter rubbish.

  “Oh, my Gods. I'm surprised she hadn't done it before now. Can you imagine waking up next to that every day? He was clingy and whiney. A couple of months ago, he and Lenny got into it during one of the meetings. I think it was Lenny's first get together. They actually argued about which way to face when standing at the altar. Lenny proved that Barry didn't have any clue what he was talking about. Barry stomped off and smoked half a pack of cigarettes before coming back in, snatching poor little Alexia up and storming out of the place. Since then, he’d always check with Magee before showing up to a get together to make sure that Lenny wouldn’t be there. He was trying to get Magee to ban Lenny and Katie from the group, but Magee and Mad felt that everyone had a place in the group.” By the time he paused for a breath, he was perched on the edge of his chair again.

  “Did Lenny start any other trouble in the group?” Sometimes interesting information comes out of a rambler.

  “Lenny, well he wasn’t at all the gatherings, but he was trying to get in really good with Magee. If some of the rumors I heard are true, he was going to teach her high magic. You knew Magee’s only been on the path for a short while and was still learning? I offered to help out as much as I could and I taught her as much as she was willing to learn in the time that we had. She really was a brilliant student. I know she could have gone so far if the fates had been kinder to her.”

  “But Lenny didn’t have conflicts with anyone else in the group?” I tried to get him back on track.

  He shook his head. “Not that I ever heard about.” He pointed a finger in thought. “Now Katie was another issue all together. That bitch is crazy, certifiable, card-carrying, pill-popping crazy. From what the rumors say, she actually has an arrest record for assaulting poor Penelope over at Plight of the Penis, you know they have the best glitter in town. I wouldn’t put it past her to be one of the black witches that everyone’s always so fearful of. Now you know that Magee always said that she wouldn’t tolerate a black witch in the group, but I think that Katie is.”

  I made a note to have Tiffany check out the dispute. Plight of the Penis was the nickname a lot of people used for one of the local pagan shops that was run by a radical feminist who thought that the only people who could properly worship the Goddess were women and that the only thing that men were good for was fertilization. She had an insect-like mentality toward men. I might try and stop by there and get her version of what happened with Katie Crackles.

  Xan continued on about Katie. “I know that Brianna cannot stand the woman. They’ve had several major debates, but Bree’s too nice to let it get to more than a debate. I’ve heard Katie call her a bitch to her back. Bree’s one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet. I can't imagine anyone calling her a bitch and meaning it. I bet Kati
e’s at least bipolar, if not a full-fledged schitzo. Whenever she’s present, the aura of an area darkens a lot.” He paused in thought for a second. “You know I guess when you think about it, if Lenny’s her boyfriend, then you need to ask yourself about how stable he is too.”

  Dusty tapped my knee to get my attention and then tapped his watch to indicate that we needed to get moving.

  “Thanks for the input Xan. I’ll definitely follow up with the ideas you’ve tossed out here and see what we can find out, but we have another appointment shortly and need to go.” I fished out one of my business cards, careful to make sure it was one of the ones with just the phone number and handed him the card as I stood. “If you can think of anything else that might be useful, please feel free to call. If Dusty and I aren’t available, my office manager, Tiffany, will be happy to assist you.”

  He took the card with a sad look. “Okay I will. I hope that something I told you will help and if I think of anything you can be sure I’ll give you a call.”

  I could tell the kid had wanted to keep talking and probably could’ve continued to talk all day long. Part of me felt sorry for him, but a bigger part just wanted to run away.

  Dusty all but ran down the stairs until we hit the sidewalk. “That kid’s scary. It’s possible he's just really needy. But he’s scary and he thinks he and Magee were such great friends when it’s obvious she couldn’t stand him.” He breathed a sigh of relief in the fresh air.

  It was still a bit too bright for me so I put my sunglasses back on. “Well maybe he just has issues with reality.” I reached for Dusty's hand as we started back toward the car.

  “More than issues, I don't think he knows what it is. If he ever set foot…”

  Dusty's words were silenced by the explosion of the building behind us.