Body on Pine

by DeMarco, Joseph R. G.

  Shuster’s office was at the back, from what he’d told me. There was a half open door at the rear of the room. I knocked and the door opened wider revealing Shuster and Kelley in the midst of a heated altercation.

  Shuster turned toward the door, his face showing the strain of the campaign and the argument. I wondered if they’d been arguing about Nolan.

  “What? What is it?” When Shuster saw me, his eyes widened.

  “Checking in. Wanted to give you an…”

  “This isn’t a good time, Mr. Fontana.”

  “Go ahead. See what the man wants,” Kelley snapped. “You and I aren’t getting anywhere.”

  “Nice to see you again,” I lied. The little gray man, angry and sour, was unpleasant.

  “Sure. Where was it we met?”

  “A couple’a times. Anyway, I’ll just take a minute of your man’s time.”

  “Don’t rush on my account. He’s not listening to reason.” Kelley riffled through some papers then pulled out a cell phone and tapped in a number.

  Shuster pushed me gently out the door and followed, shutting Kelley out.

  “What’re you doing here?” he hissed. First Nolan barges in, now you.”

  “What did the hot Mr. Nolan want?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business but his boss was steamed about something and demanded a meeting with Kelley. Personally delivered the invite. Kelley made Nolan feel like a worthless slug.”

  “That why he was so agitated?”

  “That and another matter.”

  “Not gonna tell me, are you?”

  “What exactly are you doing here anyway?”

  “Just checkin’ in. You see that character again?”

  “I haven’t. No thanks to you.” Shuster looked wild-eyed. “What am I gonna tell Kelley? He’ll want to know why you were here. He’s a fucking micromanager. He’ll want every detail.”

  “Tell him it’s none of his business.”

  “You don’t tell a man like Kelley things are not his business. He thinks the world revolves around him. Takes a shit and expects the press to ask what color it was.”

  “Let me handle it.” I pushed past Shuster and into to the office.

  “No! No. What are you…” Shuster wasn’t quick enough to stop me and his voice trailed off as I entered the office.

  “Well?” Kelley asked imperiously. “You finished? We have a campaign to run.”

  “Wanted to thank you for his time. I needed some information about the campaign event the other night. I’m working a case.”

  “Yes, well, and you’re… what? You’re investigating a case? Is Shuster invol… Shuster are you involved in something I should know about?” Kelley stood abruptly, the tufts of hair standing out from the sides of his grayish-pink dome made him comical.

  “A murder. Not that your boy had anything to do with it. Not as far as we can see…” I don’t know why I said that. Watching the two of them waltz around the idea was entertaining.

  “No! Sir, I had nothing to do with anything. Fontana here needed some…”

  “If the primary wasn’t around the corner, I’d fire your ass and find someone competent.”

  “But… I’m…” Shuster looked puzzled and confused.

  “I’ll let you two work things out,” I said, “Don’t go too hard on him. The campaign’s almost over.”

  I turned and left. Shuster slammed the door and the yelling started. I could hear them argue as I pushed my way out of the bustling headquarters.

  The crowds and noise at Bubbles would be a pleasure after this.

  Chapter 19

  “Hey, Marco! You entering the buns competition? I really wanna see ‘em.”

  I turned to see one of the old regulars planted on a barstool, laughing suggestively. He lifted his glass in salute then gulped down its contents.

  “Not tonight, Dale. How about you signing up?”

  “Couple more a’these, I might just take my pants down. It’d be more fun to see your tush.”

  “Don’t drop your drawers yet, Dale. Sign up and get on stage first.”

  I climbed the stairs to my office allowing the rest of the day to peel away with each step I took. Anton had requested the night off to help Ty who was recuperating physically but having a difficult time emotionally. I told Anton to take a few days if it’d help. I had plenty of guys who could work the contest and keep things rolling. Jean-Claude, Bruno, and Kent would lend a hand with the Best Buns crowd.

  I entered the office and tucked myself behind my desk. Jean-Claude had made photocopies of entry forms. Bruno would get the stage ready and put the Best Buns “screen” in place. Jean-Claude and Kent would keep track of contestants. All I had to do was schmooze with customers while waiting for showtime. Then I’d MC the show and keep my fingers crossed that nothing went too far off script. You never knew what would happen when men take off their clothes for an audience. Always had to think a few steps ahead.

  I was about to look for Bruno when Jean-Claude sauntered into the office.

  “Jean-Claude,” I said, with a little more frost than I intended.

  “Marco. Did you get the copies?”

  “Right here. You’re gonna be in charge of collecting forms and making sure the IDs are legetimate. You ever do this?”

  “I have watched Anton do this many times.”

  I’ll bet you’ve watched him, I thought. Instead, I said, “I’ll hang with you for the first few signups. Most important thing is to check IDs.”

  “I did a good job, no?” Jean-Claude’s eyes twinkled reflecting the office lights.

  “With the forms? Sure.”

  “No, at your office. I told you I would work well for you, no? And…?”

  “You did. You were a big help,” I said. I felt annoyed with him and was afraid it would show. Whatever I thought was going on between Jean-Claude and Anton clouded my judgment. The kid had been a big help and I’d never complimented him. “Yeah, Jean-Claude, you did a great job. Never did thank you for that.”

  “This means I will be able to help again? Yes? Maybe on this case?”

  “Let’s see what…”

  “But I have already made the proof, no? I did a good job?”

  “Right now the case is stalled. When something comes up I’ll let you know.”

  “It’s a deal.” Jean-Claude smiled and put out his hand.

  I shook hands reluctantly, unable to shed my feelings. Jean-Claude was sweet and actually a good worker. Maybe I assumed too much about him and Anton. Maybe I’d read things into situations that weren’t actually there. Whatever it was, though, it felt real to me, and I couldn’t put it aside. At the same time, I wondered why I felt I had any right to intrude into Anton’s life. We’d made no commitments, and that was my doing.

  “You see Anton today?” I had to ask.

  “No. He says he will be helping Ty which will be difficult. Then he wants what he calls the ‘alone time.’ So I have not bothered him.”

  “You and Anton seem to get along well…”

  “Oh, Anton and I are like the two peas in a pot.” He smiled, and it was one of those lopsided, masculine, spine tingling smiles.

  “You mean pod. Yeah, sure seems like…”

  Before I could dig a deeper hole, Bruno walked in.

  “Boss man. How’s tricks?” His gruff voice rumbled through the room. Topless, his bronzed skin and perfect pecs dazzled the eye. He carried himself with a macho grace and swagger, his compact muscular body conveying power and energy.

  “You sure you’re ready for tonight? You’ve never handled contestants before.”

  “Got my whip, what else do I need to keep them in line?”

  “Funny man.”

  “Who’s bein’ funny? I seen guys when they enter this contest, they’re all outta control. They need a whip to make ‘em behave.” Bruno produced a coiled bullwhip from behind his back.

  “You weren’t kidding,” I said.

  “I never kid, Marco. Y
ou know that.”

  “Tonight how about we simply use persuasion. Keep the beatings to a minimum. Is everything ready?”

  “We need to check out the screen. Comin’?” Bruno asked.

  “Yep.” I turned to Jean-Claude. “See me tomorrow, we’ll see if anything turns up.” I didn’t know what that’d be but I’d think of something. “Right now you should set up backstage.”

  He nodded, took the forms, and left.

  ***

  We made sure the “buns” screen was intact. The large wall-like structure on wheels had five rounded holes for contestants to show their cheeks to an eager audience. Then, I took a spin around the bar to scope out potential trouble in the crowd.

  The contest wasn’t for another hour or so and already the place was packed. Stan would be happy with the cash receipts and he had me to thank for that. Since we’d struck a deal to let me use Bubbles as the base for StripGuyz, he’s hardly ever had a bad night. The only off times came when the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board found violations where there weren’t any. Even the smallest thing can shut you down quicker than a politician can lie.

  This is why I needed eyes on the crowd.

  Kent stood toward the back and nodded when I approached. He usually spotted trouble before the customer thought about it. He’d be graduating soon and looking for a “real” job.

  “How’s it looking?”

  “We’ve got it covered,” he said, all official.

  “I’ll announce last call for contestants, but we’ve got quite a few already.” I laughed.

  “Shout if you need me,” Kent said.

  My “last call” announcement cut through the happy chatter and I watched people make last minute decisions to bare their asses. The convivial party atmosphere, not to mention free flowing liquor, often made people jump into the contests we held. The results were always fun.

  Scanning the crowd, I noticed a face I recognized. He wasn’t wearing his photographer’s vest with its gazillion pockets. He looked uncomfortable. Could be his first time in a gay bar. Could also be he had a purpose and was anxious. Realizing how paranoid he was to be known as Vega’s photographer, I understood why he might be nervous. What ever the reason, I didn’t want to spook him before I could talk to him. I decided on a different approach.

  I signaled Kent. He quickly moved to my side.

  “See that guy? Curly hair, scraggly beard?” I nodded in the direction of the photographer.

  Kent peered at him. “Yep. Is he trouble?”

  “He might have some useful information on the case I’m working. I need to get to him without him running off.

  “I’ll approach him from the other direction and engage him in conversation.”

  “My thought exactly. I’ll come up behind him and he’ll have nowhere to go.”

  “It’ll take a minute to circle around. Soon as you see me talk to him, move in, ” Kent said. The sparkle in his eyes told me he enjoyed this.

  “Go,” I said, and Kent moved quickly but without urgency.

  Keeping my eye on the photographer, I edged over a little at a time so I could reach him as soon as Kent showed up.

  The photographer seemed to be sizing things up, as if figuring out good camera angles. Still jittery, he hadn’t turned in my direction. Seeing me heading toward him might make him bolt.Unless he’d come here knowing I’d be here.

  Kent’s head bobbed through the crowd of men who gazed at him longingly. Kent broke through just short of where the photographer stood. I watched as he paused to collect himself then sauntered over to the photographer. Standing next to the guy, he asked a question.

  That was my cue. I moved in and stood next to the photographer in seconds.

  “I’ve been looking for you, man. Funny you should turn up here,” I said.

  The photographer glanced up at me then at Kent. I stood close enough to feel his body tense. But there was no indication he’d run. If he tried, Kent was blocking his way.

  “I… I was…”

  “You were looking for me. Am I right?” I said.

  “You were outside that spa.” He paused. “I wanted to talk.”

  “You know something? Something that can help?”

  “I know what I saw and what Pete told me. But… it’s not much. I don’t even know if it means anything. All I do is take pictures. That’s it. I don’t get involved…”

  “This is no place to talk.”

  “Wh-why not? It’s public… I like…” He glanced around nervously.

  “Best reason it’s not a good place to talk. Too many ears.”

  “Where then?” He looked apprehensive.

  “My office upstairs.”

  “O-okay.” He waited for me to lead the way.

  “Kent.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks for your help. I’ve gotta talk to Mr….” I looked over at the photographer.

  “Tell you later,” he said.

  “I’ve gotta talk with Mr. Tell-You-Later. I’ll need someone to coordinate the contest, if I don’t get down in time. Somebody’s got to MC and keep things moving.”

  “Okay, who?”

  “I was thinking you, Kent. You’ve seen a hundred of these. You can handle it.”

  “I hate speaking in front of people.” Kent’s voice a shaky whisper.

  “Believe me, they won’t care what you say. They probably won’t even hear what you say. They’ll be glued to the asses on display and won’t notice anything else. I guarantee.”

  “B-but you’ll get back down before I have to go on, right?”

  “There’s plenty of time before it starts. I’ll be here.”

  I left Kent wondering what he’d do if I wasn’t back in time and led the photographer to my office. The hall was relatively empty since fewer dancers worked on contest nights. Four or five guys in g-strings stood waiting to go onstage. Laughter filtered through the door of the dressing room where the rest of the dancers gathered.

  The photographer peered around at the setting and the dancers as if discovering new subjects for his photo work. His wide-eyed expression was almost comical.

  “Never even thought about male strippers as subjects, have you?”

  “It never occurred to me. Really didn’t know about this whole world. I mean I know about gay life and all. I’m not… y’know… not gay. But I know about it. Not this though…”

  Opening the door, I allowed him to enter first, then shut the door behind me and locked it.

  “Why’d you lock the door?” Edging away from me he backed into a wall. Not hard to do since the office was a sardine can.

  “So we won’t be interrupted. Don’t worry, you’re safe. I’ve had my man quota for the day.” I grinned, hoping he’d relax.

  He didn’t.

  I motioned for him to sit at my desk. He looked at it as if wondering where the restraints were hidden. Satisfied there was nothing untoward, he sat and looked up at me expectantly.

  “Okay, then…You sought me out, so you’ve obviously got things to tell me. Am I right?” I half sat on the desk.

  “I can’t say I know much.”

  “Why’d you come looking for me?”

  “I saw you there… that day. When they found the guy at the spa. I saw you there, man. So…”

  “That led you here tonight, why?”

  “People talk, y’know? They say you’re nowhere on this case.”

  “Word gets around.” I wondered who this guy knew. “You’re right. I got nothing. Nothing that amounts to much.”

  “What I hear, you hit a total dead end.”

  “Maybe you don’t hear so good. Doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not goin’ away.”

  “Can’t say I’m gonna be much help.”

  “Think you know something that’ll crack the case?”

  “Anything’s possible…”

  “Cut the paranoid act. Let’s start with your name.”

  Hesitating, his eyes searched my face for reassurance. I didn’t give him any.
>
  “You can’t be honest about your name, what good is anything you say?”

  “J-Jenks…”

  “That’s better,” I said.

  “I… Not sure why I came here…”

  “You worked with Peter Vega.” I decided on another tack.

  “On and off. It wasn’t like a regular thing. When he needed something, he’d call.”

  “Now he’s dead, and you believe it’s connected to his work. Right?”

  “Hadda be, man. The dude got into real bad shit sometimes. Made enemies. That’s why I took pictures, collected my money, and never asked for credit. I don’t need crazy fucks on my back. Not like it was Pulitzer work anyway.”

  “Was Vega at the spa the night Brad was killed?”

  “He… Pete was supposed to be there. Told me to meet him. Said he needed pictures… y’know… of the people.”

  This wasn’t exactly proof the deaths were connected. It was closer than I’d gotten so far, but only if he knew Vega had actually been at the spa.

  “Did he show up? What happened that night?”

  “I waited across the street. That’s how we do it. I never go in ahead of Pete. I’m in and out in a hurry. I don’t want people rememberin’ my face. I won’t go into the fucked-up places he picks unless he’s there to cover me…” Jenks paused, looked lost in thought. “Pete was a good guy, y’know. One of those crusader types. Enjoyed helping people, liked uncovering rotten stuff and making it right. I admired him even if I was too chicken shit to put my name to anything. I admired the guy.”

  “I’ve seen some of his work online. I know what he was capable of.”

  “That kind of work makes enemies. He exposed hypocrites. Especially the high and mighty ones. That really stirs up the shit.”

  “Vega knew the risks.”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “Did you see him at all that night?”

  “He always called me once he got to a site. He knew I wouldn’t budge unless he was there. That night he never called. I waited. Waited a long time. He never called and I never saw him go in or out of the place.”

  “What’d you do?”