by Jack Wallen
“Give me the little fuck.” The drunk man came over, pushed down the boy’s mother, and yanked the frail child up by his arm. The son was violently shaking from the spasms as he dangled from his raging father’s grasp. The drunk started laughing. “Look at him go!”, the menacing man danced about, while the boy hung painfully from his hand.
“I know, we can shove the little shit’s arm up inside of you! Human vibrator!” He laughed at his sick joke and yanked his son’s arm hard until the shoulder dislocated and the young child cried out in agony.
The husband finally grew tired of his little game and threw his son hard to the floor. The bone of the young arm cracked audibly. The pain yanked him out of his spasm.
Pain always controlled situations. Pain was master. Pain was God.
The man came to lying on the floor of the bathroom, covered in sweat and smelling of blood. Lakmé stood on wobbly knees and looked into the shattered mirror that must have met its demise when he rammed his head to stop the convulsing. It had worked. Of course, now his head had an open wound from which blood was still flowing.
He grabbed some paper towels and began dabbing at the gash. There was little pain, which was typical of the episodes. But there was plenty of blood. It took him a while to stanch the bleeding, but once it had stopped, he emerged from the bathroom. There were more stares. He must have made enough noise to call attention to himself.
With his eyes glued to the floor, he walked back to the table.
“What happened in there? You’re hurt!” Allie, again, was concerned.
“I fell into the mirror and got cut. It’s not bad, just a little blood. I’ll be fine.” He was ashamed that he had to lie to such a nice girl. It was best, though.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need to go to the hospital or something?” She touched his hand as she spoke, which sent lightning bolts up his arm.
He wanted to jerk his hand back from her. He was afraid of what he might do if he let the feelings overcome his will. He concentrated on her innocent, childlike eyes. He loved her eyes. Yes, he felt and knew love. It was new to him, but he knew it was real because it hurt to think that he might not always have it.
“Would you like to get out of here?” Allie whispered. “These people are all rude fucks.”
He laughed and nodded. Finally, there was someone to know, someone to become familiar with, to touch, to enter and hide within.
With the bill paid, they stepped outside and into the bright sunlit sky.
“Where do you want to go?” she said, as they walked while holding hands.
“I have a few things I need to do,” he answered.
“Like what?” She had the curiosity of a little girl.
Silence fell between them. She couldn’t know of the procedures. Surely she would leave if she found out about Lakmé. No girl would understand.
They got in the car, and as he started it up, he looked at her and smiled. “Nothing important.”
FORTY-NINE
He dropped her off at a rented hotel room on the west side of town. It was a pay-by-the-day dive that smelled of stale booze and cigarettes. He had been living like this for months now, but his money was drying up. He would have to do something to solve that issue soon. But there were so many more important things to do.
She had told him she wanted to take a nap and call some of her girlfriends. This pleased him on every level. He could rest assured that his prize would remain while he did his duty as the transgender messiah.
He left her as she lay down on the bed and pulled the covers to her chin. She was a cherub that brought him a peace he had never known, a friend who fettered him to joy and reality. Smiling with every step, he went straight to his car. “The angel rests above as the Messiah prepares for his next miracle.” Hope ‘N Faith. How fitting a name for one that would be part and parcel to a miracle.
This time nothing would go wrong. He would make sure of that. The last transformation had blown up in his face. For that, he was ashamed. He had left one of his patients unfinished. On top of that, he had lost the tools of his trade, which meant he would have to make do from what could be bought at the local Wal-Mart: hunting knives, scissors, needles and fishing line, cotton balls, bras, and a new CD player.
But what he needed most was another copy of the duet. Without the duet, the procedure would be a certain failure. The veil would easily be broken, and the evil of his past would overtake him without the distracting beauty. He would have to visit a music store that happened to sell his favorite, Charlotte Church.
As he drove, he thought of Allie. Maybe she was the key to his peace. Maybe she would silence the screams in his head. Maybe she could erase the painful memories and drown the hatred that bubbled inside of him.
Maybe.
FIFTY
Skip and I arrived at my place in a matter of minutes. I had everything we needed. Skip was helping himself to nearly everything in my fridge as I was booting up my pretty-in-pink, as Skip called it, laptop. As soon as it booted, I fired up my e-mail client and started typing out all the clues from the plastic evidence baggie into an e-mail. I sent the list off to Jason so he could run it through the program he had created. Hopefully, he could quickly solve the riddles so we could just as quickly alert all of the possible victims.
I turned away from the computer to see Skip with his hand in a bag of chips. “Can’t eat just one. Sounds like me. Hell, sounds like nearly every gay man I know,” he added with the giggle of a schoolgirl.
Skip took a seat on a stool next to me and started rubbing my shoulders, just what I needed. I let out a moan, and he slapped my back. “Not until later, sweetie,” he joked.
“So tell me, hon, how’s life? I mean, the real life, not this work shit. Are ya gettin’ any?” Skip always cut to the chase.
“Skip, my job has completely infected my life. I only wish I had time for a little horizontal dancing. The closest I’ve come to getting any was the other night when Shannon stayed over, and we spooned in my bed.” The thought of having her with me instantly brought back that same warmth.
Skip turned my stool around to face him. “Girlfriend! You never told me you joined the right side of the force.” He did his best Darth Vader. “I sense something. A presence I’ve not felt since Rosie O’Donnell.”
“Sorry, sweets. I’m still straight.” I gave him a punch in the arm, turned around, and indicated for him to pick up the massaging where he had left off.
“Like they say, everyone is just a six pack and a massage away from gay. Oh, and look what’s happening now! You’re halfway gay. Care to finish the trip?”
“Sorry, hon. Your team will just have to woo me some other time.” I pointed once again at my shoulders. He started rubbing. My breath eased out of my body like a slow leak. “Do you think we’ll get this guy, Skip?”
Skip spun me around again. His look was dreadfully serious. “We’ll get the bastard. You can count on that. This thing has become personal for both of us.” I hadn’t heard him so serious in a very long time. “I don’t care if I don’t sleep for the next week; he’s ours.”
“Thank you, Skip,” was all I needed to say. I kissed him on the cheek and turned back to my laptop. “Now, if Jason would only get back to me.”
Again, Skip turned me around. I felt like I was about to vomit, I was getting so dizzy. “Poopy Bear, he ain’t a miracle worker. You can’t expect him to crack all of those names this quickly, can you?” Skip was right, and I hated it.
I honestly didn’t know what to do. The only possible hope we had was to find out who the killer planned on targeting, then make sure they were all safe, and hopefully catch him when he showed up to try to ruin one of their lives. We couldn’t be sure that he was planning on transforming every member of the Southern Belles. And how did we know it was limited to only that one group? Surely not every cross-dresser in Louisville, Kentucky was a member in good standing of the Southern Belles.
That thought scared the hell out of me. “Sk
ip, what if he’s not limiting himself to the Belles? What if he’s finding other groups, other targets? If that’s the case, we’ll never know where he’s going.” My voice was starting to show signs of panic.
“How many cross-dressing groups are there in this city?” I opened up a web browser and did a search for ‘Louisville, KY cross-dressing groups.’ Unfortunately, the Belles seemed to be the only group in the area.
“Jamie, we’ll find him.” He got up from the stool. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go do something to get your mind off this damn psycho.”
“Fat chance, gay boy. I’m not leaving this—” Before I could finish, Skip grabbed my arm and pulled me up.
“The hell if you aren’t, fishbait. We’re going to grab some lunch, and then we’ll come back and see if Jason has reported in. I’m buying.” Skip wasn’t taking no for an answer.
FIFTY-ONE
The shopping trip was nothing out of the ordinary. He managed to find everything he needed in one fell swoop. The only substitute he was concerned with was the Flower Duet. The music store only had a copy sung by Joan Sutherland, an unfamiliar voice. Under the circumstances, any voice should work. He carefully placed the bags in his trunk and drove off. Soon it would be time to find his next patient.
He decided to make a run back to the hotel to check on Allie. She had said she wanted to nap, and he didn’t want her to ever have to wake up alone again. She would appreciate that. Lovers and friends did that sort of thing. The thought brought a smile to his face. Lovers and friends. Which were they? Which would they be?
When he arrived at the hotel room, a brief flight of fear dropped into his system when he saw that the bed and the room were empty. His heart lodged in his throat, and his eyes began to feel hot. But then he heard the sound of the shower running and her voice softly spilling from the bathroom. She was singing. He didn’t recognize the song, but the melody was nice. Her voice was sweet. It was nothing like the Flower Duet, but it was worth listening to.
The sounds of singing and running water ceased. He looked around the room and noticed her clothes on the bed. Another cold blast of panic ran through his veins. She was about to emerge from the bathroom naked. His body tingled. No woman had ever appeared naked to him, at least not willingly.
Right when he felt like things might get out of control, the door opened, and she appeared with a towel wrapped around her body.
Saved.
“Oh, I didn’t hear you come back in. How was your little trip? Did you miss me?” She gave him an angelic smile.
How could he not miss the young angel? She had become part of his life, part of the meat that made up the shell that held his heart and soul.
“Very much,” he said, as he turned his back so she could dress. “I have something I have to do in a while. I won’t be able to take you with me ‘cause it’s work.”
“Let me go with you!” Allie pleaded excitedly. “I won’t get in the way, I promise.”
The wind was sucked from his lungs. He didn’t know what to do or say. He didn’t dare bring her along and let her witness the gruesome world of the surgeon. It would surely be too much for her eyes.
His eyes darted around the room as he searched for a suitable reason for her not to come along. He looked at Allie. His angel. His new breath. He had carried her from death and she had brought him to life.
Allie stepped closer to him. Dangerously close. He became uncomfortable. “Please. I really don’t want to be alone right now.” The plea melted him.
Her darling gaze broke the final wall between what little rational thought he had and what little care he had for his own life. He felt it snap, felt his already brittle sanity bend until it broke free from the bonds of what he knew as reality.
“Okay. You go.” His voice was distant. He was working on instinct now as his mind had allowed itself to disassociate from his actions.
It was almost as if something else were in control of his actions. Rudimentary as his thoughts had become, he didn’t seem to be in control of them any longer.
When her arms wrapped around his waist and she buried her face in his chest, he wanted to cry. Flooded with a waterfall of love, he eventually blanketed the young girl with his massive arms. As he pulled her tight, she let out a moan that was more comfort than sexual.
His brain, muddled with a catastrophic past, was growing fearful that his new darling would ruin his career. But Allie could not be left behind. Nothing would cause him to do to her what had been done to him.
Zombie-hiking his way through the room, he led Allie out to the car. He opened the door for her, shut it, and walked around the car, where he stood facing the driver’s-side door. Something was tugging at the back of his mind, telling him to stop. Something was trying to tell him that he was about to make a grave mistake.
“What are you waiting for? Get in,” Allie said.
He pushed aside the warnings and opened the door. His eyes were still darting about as if they had no idea what to focus on. He started the car and slowly pulled away.
FIFTY-TWO
Skip and I decided to go to Bazos, yet another Mexican restaurant. This one, however, had the best salsa in town.
I ordered a bean and cheese burrito, ranchero style, and the biggest bucket of soda they had. I needed the caffeine if I had any plans of making it through the day. Facing the chief sucked the energy right out of me.
We sat beside some mountain bikers who moaned with each bite they took. I wasn’t sure if it was the taste of the food or the obvious wounds they had suffered from the crashes on their last ride. One particular rider had blood encrusting his entire right shin, a sizable chunk of skin completely gone. It was a study in polar opposition. Taste versus wounds. My mind was racing with possibilities.
One of the bikers stood and turned his spandex-covered ass toward Skip. I thought Skip was going to forgo his lunch and head right for dessert. I gave him a keep it in your pants look. He complied. He could be a good boy now and then.
“So tell me, sweet princess, why aren’t you just calling every name on the Southern Belle contact sheet and warning them to stay in close quarters?” Skip cut to the chase.
I had to think about this. For a while, I was wondering that myself. Finally, I realized it was a matter of control. “We don’t know for sure that this guy is planning on doing everyone in that group. We can’t tell every member that their life is in danger. That would do nothing but inject them with even more paranoia. The last thing those men need is something else to fear. Besides, for all we know, it might only be very select members and not the entire group. Not only that, but it might tip off the killer, and he could switch his method.”
“Have you tried to find any link among the victims so far? Other than the cross-dressing?” Skip asked bluntly.
Sometimes you get so emotionally wrapped up in a case that you forget the basics of investigation. Rarely did serials run random sprees. There was almost always a theme. Naturally, I had assumed his theme was focused on any and all cross-dressers in the area. I started thinking about the victims so far. First was Tom Evander, a.k.a Mako Chung, a used-car salesman with a penchant for creating dreadful television commercials. Next was Tye Siam, a high-profile drag queen who had started taking hormones to make the transition from male to female. The last victim, Evan Caprini, was a professor in the local university’s drama department.
Each victim had contact with the public. Could that possibly be the connection? It was weak but certainly a possibility. It was possible that the killer only wanted to do cross-dressers who were in the public eye. Maybe it was a matter of exposure, both for the victim and killer.
Then I remembered the name—Chris Davies. I had completely forgotten to run a check on the name.
“God, Skip, Homicide is a challenge. I probably have his name right under my nose, and I haven’t done shit with it.” I grabbed my cell and dialed Jason Robert’s number. Other than Skip, of all the people we had on our side, Jason was the only one I r
eally trusted at the moment.
“Jamie, hi!” He picked up immediately, which was kind of creepy. But his genuine and friendly voice alleviated the creep factor before it had time to gel. “The program hasn’t finished running yet. With this many phrases, it might take a while.”
“That’s not why I’m calling, Jason.” I hated to be so abrupt with such a sweet boy. I took a look around the crowded restaurant and decided there were too many people. “I have a name I need you to run a check on. I don’t dare do it, or the chief will bust me to working the malls.”
Skip raised his hand as if to say, ‘I wanna work the malls.’ Of course, I knew his idea of working the mall was trolling for bedroom bait. Silly Skipper.
I stood and worked my way outside where no prying ears could hear the rest of the conversation.
“Hit me.” Jason upped my abrupt with a blunt of his own.
I gave him the name ‘Chris Davies’ and told him to get back with me as soon as he found anything. I was hoping he could give me something concrete, like maybe a picture or a current address. As things stood, that was our quickest route to catching this nut job.
We hung up, and I went back inside. As I was bumping and grinding my way back to the table, one of the bikers turned just in time to dump a half-eaten bowl of refried beans onto my uniform. What a damn great day. I was about to blow up when I looked up to see a pair of melt-away eyes staring at me.
I smiled. He smiled back before apologizing profusely. After assuring him everything was okay, I ran into the restroom to clean up. I was blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush.
When I returned, the bikers had gone, much to my chagrin, and Skip was grinning as if he had just won the lottery.
“What did you do, Skip Abrahm?” I demanded.
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that, a little of get a phone number from the hunk who just dumped his lunch on you. Care to have it, my dear?” He waved a piece of paper over his head. “He was eeeeeeeager for you to call.”
