Body on Pine

by DeMarco, Joseph R. G.

  When we walked through the outer office, Olga glanced up. I placed a finger to my lips signaling her to keep calm. She glared at the two men, her eyes beady with suspicion.

  “Boss is needing coffee for guests?” This was Olga’s way of asking if I needed her to call for help.

  “Nah, sugarplum. Not worth the effort. Besides these jokers won’t be here long.”

  I opened the door to my office and walked in, keeping my back to them. The two nubby goons were right on my heels. Sorba, a loud-mouthed, right-wing fanatic, and a cretin on issues I cared about, was undoubtedly living out his tough-guy fantasy. His every move was probably copied from things he’d seen on television. It was comic.

  “So, what can I do for you, Sorba?” I flopped into my chair, eased back, and stared at him. I had a gun in the top drawer. Easy to reach.

  Sorba, eyes fixed on me, walked to the front of my desk, leaned in and stared. His knuckle-dragging goon, with what I suspected was a gun in his jacket pocket, stood to one side taking everything in.

  “You and one of your butt boys keep callin’ about some dead fag masseur,” he said, then sat in a chair facing my desk.

  “You know why that is, right?” I stared into his eyes.

  Silence. Of course, he knew.

  “C’mon. No idea why you’d get these calls? How about you Moose?” I looked at the goon. “Any idea why your boss gets calls about a gay masseur?”

  Moose looked confused. Like he thought he had to supply an answer but had no idea what the answer could possibly be.

  I looked at Sorba again. “Comin’ back to you now, bucko?”

  Sorba looked like a pot aching to boil over. His eyes narrowed.

  “I have no fucking idea, you goddamned idiot. That’s why I’ll break your fucking neck if I get bothered again.” His pasty face went raw meat red in under five seconds.

  “I’ll try to worry about your threats when I have time,” I said. “For now, let me give you a clue. Personally, I think you have this clue tucked away already, but you don’t like people knowing. You got called because you’re on a list. You’re on the gay masseur’s client list.”

  “I’m not on a fucking list. Somebody’s…”

  “You’re on Brad’s list of clients. A long time regular. Big tipper. You were his client even before he opened the spa. He’s got cute little notes about what you like and where you like it. The kind of massage oil you like and…” I turned to the goon. “Hey, Moose. I should maybe show you the notes… your boss is gonna need a new pair of hands takin’ care of him. Maybe you…”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Sorba stood and shoved my desk against me. “You got no idea what you’re getting’ yourself into. Try to ruin me, and you’ll find out what you’re up against. Just like that…” Sorba stopped abruptly.

  “Just like Brad. You telling me that…”

  “I’m tellin’ you nothing, Fontana. I don’t know the fag.” Sorba rushed around the desk to confront me.

  I towered over him and was in much better shape. He pushed forward anyway, getting right into my face.

  “You made the appointments, bucko. Not me. You asked for the special services.” I placed a hand on his chest and shoved him back so hard he nearly toppled over, but Moose came to his rescue.

  “You got no idea what I can do to you.” Sorba swiped a hand across my desk scattering the papers, my mug, and everything onto the floor.

  “You can make it all go away, Sorba. Tell me you have an alibi for Friday night. Then I forget all about you. See?”

  “I don’t have to tell you a fucking thing.” He poked me in the chest. “Not one goddamned fucking thing.”

  “Nope, you’re right. You don’t hafta tell me a thing. After all who am I?”

  “Goddamned right. Who the fuck are you?”

  “When the police ask, I’ll tell them you’re kinda excitable. That you have a reputation you’ll do anything to protect. You’d hate anybody finding out you’re a… what did you call Brad… oh yeah, a fag. You’re a fag who likes kinky massages with a hot guy. And you’ll do anything to protect your reputation. Think the cops will get the picture?”

  I watched him approach the boiling point again.

  “Tell you what I’m thinking,” I continued. “You feared Brad would tell your secrets. You didn’t hit the big time until after you’d been seeing Brad for a few years, right? So, he was excited having a big-time radio personality naked on his table. Maybe you thought you needed to shut him up. Or maybe you wanted to scare him. Then it all went wrong. Cops are gonna get the same idea? Especially if I give ‘em that idea.”

  “That never happened.” He got into my face again. His breath was stale. Spittle flecked his lips. “That’s not me you’re talking’ about. I hate fags. I hate you people. You’re all sick.”

  “That’s motivation. You hated him. You hate all of us. What I think? You hate yourself, too, enough to kill somebody else.”

  “You’re a crazy motherfucker, Fontana.” He turned away. “People say you’re crazy. Now I see. My audience will love this shit. You’ll be real popular. All your fuckin’ fag secrets, everything you do. I’ll talk it up every day.”

  “Gonna tell your audience why you’re targeting me? You could tell ‘em about the way you like having a guy stick…”

  “Fuck you!”

  “You have no alibi for the night Brad was murdered.” I picked my coffee mug off the floor, the handle was broken. Coffee had splattered the paperwork. “If the press gets wind of things, y’know? I mean, look at that singer who… all he did was…”

  Sorba swung his arm, knocked over a chair, and motioned Moose to his side. There was an odd look in Moose’s eye. He’d just gotten a dose of Too Much Information. He moved to Sorba’s side but occasionally glanced over at Sorba as if he didn’t know him anymore.

  “Tell these lies to anybody, Fontana, and I’ll make sure you meet up with people who are experts at things you don’t even wanna think about.”

  Before I could say anything, Olga buzzed me. I hit the button on the intercom, ignoring Sorba.

  “Is Police Detective on line. You can be speaking now?”

  “Put him through, sugarplum.” After a moment I heard Shim’s voice.

  “Mr. Fontana, you got a minute? I wanted to catch you up…”

  “Hey, detective,” I said. “I’ve got a couple of clients here but you can come right up. They’ll be going…” I slid a glance up at Sorba and smiled.

  “Well… I hadn’t intended….,” Shim hesitated. Naturally, he had no idea what was going on and must’ve thought I’d lost my mind.

  “It’s no problem at all.”

  “What the hell. I’ll be there. I’m not far.”

  “See you in a few, Detective.” I hung up and smiled at Sorba.

  “This must be your lucky day, Sorba. The police will be here. You can tell him all about hating fags. And you can tell him where you were Friday night.”

  Sorba glared at me.

  “One word, Fontana. One word gets out, you won’t know what hit you.”

  I stared at him as if I knew more about him than he did about himself and watched as a thousand emotions played across his face.

  He growled in frustration, then placed both hands on my desk and leaned in to face me. “I’m not like you. I never was like you, and I never will be.” His voice shook. He’d lost his confidence.

  I glanced at the clock. “Hang around. The detective will be here soon.”

  “I have friends in the Department. High up the food chain. They won’t let you pull me down. I give the word and you sink, not me.”

  With his eyes, Sorba signaled Moose. The lumbering piece of flesh looked around the room. Moving forward he elbowed a picture of me shaking hands with the former Mayor shattering it. Trapped behind my desk, I watched as he stomped toward me. Before I could move, Moose lashed out one meaty hand and grabbed my throat. He was quick for a slab of ham.

  I began seeing those proverbial
stars but I didn’t budge. When I refused to give them the reaction they wanted, Moose’s hand squeezed tighter. I felt my eyes bulge and knew I had to move before I passed out. I brought my knee up forcefully and sent a message to Moose through his balls. His eyes crossed and his grip loosened. I shoved him away and gulped air.

  Moose stumbled backward, crashed into a wall destroying another picture of me standing with some pop star. Startled and still holding his breath, Moose wobbled until he came to a stop beside Sorba.

  “You were lucky today, Fontana. A lot worse can happen.” Sorba warned. “Like permanently worse.”

  He and Moose moved toward the door. Sorba nonchalantly, Moose as if he still felt my knee in his groin.

  “Lemme know when you want me to appear on your show, Sorba. Got a lot to tell your audience.” My voice hoarse. I rubbed my throat sure Moose’s handprint was permanently etched there.

  ***

  It took Shim more than a few minutes to get to the office, giving me time to clean up. Olga had poked her head in wanting to help, but things were under control.

  Sorba was violently worried about his reputation. I guess a right wing audience wouldn’t be happy if their idol turned out to be gay and loved male masseurs who gave happy endings.

  I swept up the glass and thought about Sorba as a possible suspect. Especially if Brad had threatened to out Sorba for some reason. But why? Maybe Sorba tried to pressure Brad into something Brad didn’t want to do? He never revealed client secrets. If he’d threatened to do that to Sorba, there’d have been a serious reason.

  There was a sinister explanation. Something I didn’t want to believe. Feelings aside, though, I had to entertain the probability that Brad threatened to blackmail Sorba for money. Brad was driven to make the spa successful. All he needed was money.

  Maybe Brad thought threatening someone like Sorba, a homophobe and a bigot, was justified. I couldn’t see Brad doing that, but I’d seen people do far worse over money.

  Only Brad and Sorba knew the answers. Brad was dead and Sorba was effectively dead inside. He’d never be honest with himself let alone anyone else.

  Olga walked into the office, surveyed things, and gave me an enigmatic look.

  “I am having new file,” she said as she waved a manila folder. “If I am putting folder on desk, maybe is getting lost.”

  “It’ll be fine, gorgeous. Just put it on top of everything.”

  Olga looked from the desk to the floor, back at the desk, then at me.

  “Desk is empty. Floor is full. I am putting file on top of everything on floor or on empty desk?”

  I laughed in spite of her implied criticism. “Put it on the desk. I promise not to lose it.”

  “Da. Olga believes when Olga is seeing.” She plopped the folder onto the desktop with a satisfying slap, then turned to leave.

  Before she shut the door behind her, I was at the desk paging through the folder. She’d found the basics on Wheeler as well as a bundle of news items on the man. He was a quietly wealthy businessman with his fingers in several concerns including a development firm but he seemed to spend most of his time fostering new entrepreneurs, helping start-ups, and generally helping keep Philadelphia businesses thriving.

  His firm had offices on Delancey, a swank address in town. I put it on my list of places to visit.

  A soft knock at the door made me look up as Shim entered the room. I guessed he’d told Olga he was expected, maybe even flashed his badge, since she hadn’t announced him.

  “Dae. Welcome back. Have a seat,” I said.

  Shim sat across from me with a serious look on his face which I attributed to his earnest attitude toward police work. That and the fact he was new at it, so he took everything with a big dose of serious.

  “You said you had some news…” My voice was still hoarse.

  “You have a cold or something?” Shim didn’t miss much. He looked at me and as his gaze swept over my face he obviously saw the red marks on my neck. “What happened to you?”

  “Bad day,” I said, not wanting to go into details just then. “Being a private eye has it’s down side.”

  Shim stared, a look of concern softening his features.

  “Tell you all about it another time. You said you had news…”

  “That’s an optimistic interpretation of what I said, Marco.” A quirky half smile crinkled his face. “I said I wanted to catch you up on what was going on.”

  “You probably hoped I might add something useful to your notebook. Right?”

  “Like they say… one good turn…” He took his notebook from his inside jacket pocket and flipped it open.

  “I’m all about good turns, Dae. Lemme hear what you’ve got.”

  “That’s just it, Marco. We don’t have a hell of a lot. As far as your friend’s case, I’m waiting on the autopsy and ballistics. Like I told you, the murder of the journalist takes precedence. The Mayor wants it fast tracked.”

  “Figures. Got anything interesting on that case?” I wondered if they’d made any connection to Brad’s case. Though I had my suspicions, I didn’t have a solid link or I’d mention it. All I had was a hunch and they don’t buy you much when you’re trading favors.

  “Ballistics are in and so is the autopsy report on Vega. Poor bastard wasn’t dead when they tossed him in the river. Shot him enough times. Must’ve been strong.”

  “Gruesome way to go. Any ideas why he was murdered?”

  “Lots of them. Take a look at the stories he worked. Sketchy deals, corruption, criminal organizations. A reporter who smokes out dangerous people is asking to be sliced and diced. Not many journalists would touch the stuff he wrote about. You ever take a look at AllNewsAllNow.com? They specialize in edgy and controversial. The list of people Vega exposed? He’s lucky he wasn’t shredded a lot sooner.”

  “So, nothing solid?”

  “Nope. The crazy editor at All News All Now claims she doesn’t know much. Said Vega worked alone, left no notes, and was kind of paranoid. Only guy he’d work with was a photographer.”

  “You find him?”

  “She gave me a description. Curly-headed, scruffy, and young was all she’d say.” Shim shook his head.

  “Sounds like a kid I spotted the day I discovered the body. Outside the spa. He was watching everything.”

  “You think he…”

  “Had something to do with all this? Odds are he’s some kinda paparazzi wannabe. Probably wanders around looking for photo opportunities he can turn into cash. All the action at the spa caught his attention.”

  “Could be…,” Shim was being thorough. He’d grasp at any possibility same as I would. This case must’ve had him banging his head against a wall. “Think you can remember what he looked like? Enough to describe him to a department artist?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Probably.” Not before I tried finding him to see what I could get out of him. “I’ll give you a call.”

  “Do that. Soon.” Shim became all official again.

  “Anything else you can give me? Giuliani won’t say much when I talk to her except she didn’t object when I said I’d be looking into things on my own.”

  Shim’s face hardly betrayed his surprise at this news. I’d hate playing poker with him.

  “I’d say that’s something. She’s usually a hard case. But the bodies keep piling up. Even she’s treading water,” Shim said.

  “She might be in over her head, but I’m not sitting around and waiting. Keep me in the loop, will ya? Especially now you know she’s given me tacit approval.”

  “I’ll expect the same. Like you coming in to work with the artist.”

  “I hate to end this gabfest, but I’ve gotta get ready for tonight.”

  “Been a long day for me. You working another case tonight?”

  “It’s my other job. My assistant over at Bubbles is off tonight so I’ve gotta be there. You know the place?”

  “In passing.” Shim said not giving anything away.

&n
bsp; “You oughta come have a drink with me one night. On the house, of course.”

  Shim said nothing. Instead, he intently scribbled something in his notebook.

  “Tonight’s the Best Buns contest. That’s always fun. Maybe you’d like to…” I teased.

  “We’ll talk another time,” he said, all business. He stuffed his notebook back into his jacket pocket.

  ***

  “Be seein’ you, Olga.” I opened the door to leave. Shim had gone a while before and I was feeling frustrated with the case. Dinner and a hot shower would help.

  “Is nice man?”

  “Who… Detective Shim? He’s a cop. I’m trying to get him to share information. ”

  “Olga has eyes. Maybe nice detective is needing warning?”

  “Warning? About what?”

  “About boss. Yes? Boss has look in eyes. Boss is wanting more than informations from nice Detective. Olga is seeing this. But I am only secretary. What must I know?”

  “Olga, what would I do without you?”

  “Sit in middle of mess and cry.”

  I laughed all the way to the elevator. Because it was true. Olga organized my office and a big part of my life. Before she came on board I’d gone through ten others who’d been unable to cope. Not Olga. She took command the minute she entered the office, even before I hired her. She knew what was needed and how to get things done. Maybe that’s why she lasted through four marriages and was still standing.

  Walking up Walnut on the way back to my condo, I had to pass the Pat Kelley campaign offices and decided to check in on Shuster. The place bustled with activity. As the primary drew closer, staffers grew more frantic. My brother Nick had been involved in someone’s failed campaign for mayor a few years back and I’d seen firsthand just how crazy things got.

  A block away, I saw Josh Nolan leaving Kelley’s HQ. He looked agitated. Now that was unusual. The Chief of Staff for Terrabito, Kelley’s rival, seen exiting Kelley’s command center? Interesting in the extreme.

  By the time I reached the door, Nolan was long gone. I walked in and hardly anyone noticed. People worked the phones, stuffed envelopes, engaged in mini-conferences, and generally attended to the necessities of a campaign. One more guy bouncing through the office was invisible. I had free passage through the chaos.