Body on Pine

by DeMarco, Joseph R. G.

Shuster said nothing. He stared at me as if his stare would be enough to knock me back through the wall and down several stories.

  “Look, Shuster,” I said and stood. “You don’t have to tell me now. But you’re gonna tell everybody sooner or later. Because at some point, I’m gonna take this information to the press and since I’m working with the police, they’ll get the whole story, too.”

  “You don’t have anything.” He fumed silently, swaying as if he didn’t know whether to stay or leave.

  “Keep thinking that, bucko.” I moved around to stand next to Shuster. Looking at him, I said, “Go on. Leave. You’ve got a campaign to run. Just remember this: I know.”

  Shuster turned and moved to the door.

  “I don’t have to let it all out of the bag for your campaign to take a hit,” I said with a calm, even voice. “I’ll let the press know money went through your account to that of a man who was later murdered. The media sharks’ll do the rest. Believe me, I don’t mind spreading chum in the water, if it’ll help solve a case.”

  Without a word, he walked out of the office. I heard the elevator swallow him up. In a little while, all the ambient sounds settled like dust and everything was quiet.

  I figured somebody had used Shuster as a go-between. Unfortunately other things I suspected had to be true. Brad was the juror who’d been tampered with. The money, coming when it did, was a clear sign. Shuster’s involvement? That was something I hadn’t worked out yet.

  Everything flipped over and over in my mind. Sitting in the dense silence of my office wasn’t helping. I needed noise and people and fresh air. Pulling myself away from the files, I left the office.

  That seat I’d seen at The Village Brew was still vacant. I ordered coffee and claimed the seat. As I settled in with a newspaper, I realized I’d forgotten to call Anton. I speed dialed him.

  “Hello.” He sounded sleepy.

  “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “No. What gives you that idea?”

  “Just the way you sounded. Got a minute?”

  “You have news about Ty?”

  “That’s what I’m calling about.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. Is… is he…? Did they find him? I mean, is he all right?”

  “They haven’t found him, Anton. It’s like he completely disappeared.”

  “What’s this mean? They’ll stop looking?”

  “No. I think maybe this might kick it up a level.”

  “You think he went back to that creep? It’s hard to stop thinking about Ty, you know? If he turns up hurt… somebody’s gonna pay.” Anton said.

  “I won’t lie to you, Anton. Never have and I’m not about to start.”

  “I know, Marco.”

  “There’s a good possibility he intends to go back to Eddie. Where and how, I have no idea. I’m thinkin’ it’s the most probable thing.”

  “How could he do that?”

  “You wanna get out of the house a while?”

  “I was about to leave when you called.” He sounded tired.

  “How about some lunch? My treat…”

  He was silent. Then he cleared his throat as if he were uncomfortable.

  “Hey, it’s no big deal. Thought I’d ask.”

  “Yeah, no… I’ve got some things I need to do, Marco. Maybe another time?”

  “Sure. Another time. But I wanted to tell you something…”

  “What?”

  “It’s… I want you to know I understand how you feel about Ty. I know how much you care about all the guys. And I’m sure you got even closer to Ty. I just want you to know I understand.”

  Anton was silent. He didn’t have to say anything, I knew how he felt.

  ***

  As soon as I went back to my paper, the cell phone rang.

  “Fontana.”

  “It’s Josh Nolan. If you can hustle over here, the Senator can talk to you now.”

  “Be right there.”

  It didn’t take more than five minutes to get to the campaign office. The streets were on a quiet Sunday simmer. No buzz of excitement.

  Pushing open the door, I found Nolan and Terrabito engaged in heated conversation. Both went silent as I approached.

  “You called. I’m here.”

  Nolan half smiled then caught himself. “Senator, this is Marco…”

  “I know who he is and what he wants.”

  I nodded at the man.

  “I have no time to waste,” he snapped. “I have no answers for you either.”

  “I haven’t asked any questions yet.”

  “Whatever you’re after, I don’t know anything.”

  “Not even about the murder of one of your biggest backers?”

  “A tragedy, of course.” His tone changed. “I had nothing to do with it. You’ll understand that we’re in the middle of a campaign… and… things are difficult.”

  “Maybe. Three men are dead and I need answers.”

  “Three? But, I…”

  “The night of the murders you arrived late to an event at Bubbles. When you did arrive, you were—”

  “Talk to Tim Powell. He’ll vouch for me. I was with him an hour before I went to that event.”

  “Funny. Pat Kelley, who was equally late, swears you came running in after him.”

  Terrabito shot a look at Nolan who glanced at me, his face distorted with confusion.

  “The Senator is—”

  “Let the Senator speak for himself.” I didn’t like brushing him off but it was necessary.

  “I have nothing more to tell you,” Terrabito said.

  A short, icy staring match followed. The stone wall had gone up and that was that.

  ***

  Back in my office I wondered why Terrabito had been so nervous. Sure, he was sinking in the polls. That makes candidates edgy. But there was something else.

  I reviewed the files again, hoping something would pop out at me. As I read, I spotted Sorba’s “gift” out of the corner of my eye. His threat had been all too real. I didn’t care about what he’d try with me, but it sounded like he’d target Luke or Anton or someone else. I couldn’t let that happen.

  A preemptive strike would stop the turd.

  I picked up the phone and dialed the All News All Now office.

  “All News All Now. Leahy.”

  “A beautiful Sunday afternoon and you’re tied to your desk?”

  “This site doesn’t run itself. Who is this?”

  “Marco Fontana.”

  “Oh, the private dick. Got some news?”

  “Matter of fact, I do. Maybe not what you were expecting but…” I told her the whole Sorba saga and said I could send the information if she wanted.

  “It’ll make a hell of a Monday front page, and I’ve been wanting to get something on that jerk for a while.”

  I hung up and e-mailed pages from Brad’s appointment book with Sorba’s complete client file including all his little peccadilloes and kinky secrets. I also sent photos of the dead snake and the threatening note it came with.

  Outing someone was a tricky business, and I didn’t always approve. A hypocrite like Sorba, who made his living bashing gays and others, was begging to be outed. So, I gave him what he asked for.

  ***

  I went to Bubbles later where Jean-Claude helped to arrange the show for the night. As he left the office, my cell phone rang. Caller ID said it was Shuster.

  “What’s up, Shuster? Ready to talk?”

  “That guy followed me again… you know… that one who—”

  “Nothing much I can do. He’s got you up his nose.”

  “You… you’re refusing to help me?” He sounded genuinely angry.

  “Don’t you have some things to tell me, bucko? Remember the deadline?” I yawned.

  “All right… all right, let’s talk. I want to get this over with. You have time now?”

  “It’s nearly one in the morning, you sure you’re allowed to stay up so late?”

 
“Meet me in half an hour,” he said, his voice shaky.

  “Same place?”

  “No, too many eyes and ears. Let’s meet somewhere else.”

  “What’ve you got in mind?” I knew he was planning something, he’d given in too easily. But I didn’t have much choice. It was either meet him now or never get anywhere. Red flags popped up all over the place but I’d make sure I was prepared.

  “I’m staying at a friend’s condo near Twenty-fifth and Locust until the primary’s over. I hate hotels.”

  “Of course, princess. You’ve got standards. Good thing you have swanky friends.” Like I believed the story.

  “This is a nice place. Quiet. They don’t like trouble here.”

  “I’ll be sure to behave. What’s the address?”

  He gave me the information I’d need and hung up.

  As I left the bar, Jean-Claude assured me he’d keep things going.

  I wanted to get to Shuster’s early but I wasn’t going anywhere without protection. I’d left my gun in the office. It was on the way and I’d still be able to get to the meeting place early. I didn’t want to give Shuster much more time to prepare whatever surprise he had in store for me.

  The building was quiet and I felt like a cat burglar. My .38 was just where I’d left it. As I turned to go, something told me to take along my extra. I pulled the ankle holster out of the drawer and strapped it on. My pants would keep it hidden. The back-up gun was ready and waiting. Lifting it out of the drawer, I slipped it into the ankle holster.

  I’d be as ready as I could.

  Chapter 31

  I wore a light jacket which concealed the shoulder holster and walked a block out of the way to get used to the weight of the ankle gun. I hated carrying but there wasn’t much choice. Shuster was up to something and I wasn’t going in blind. He hadn’t invited me over for a confessional session.

  On my way to the meet-up at The Locust Tier, I gave Shim a buzz. I needed to tell someone where I’d be. Shim was the logical choice. I got his voicemail and told him I’d been called to a meeting with a possible lead, but there was something suspicious about it all. I opted to tell him less rather than more. Gave him the address and told him I’d call if I needed back up.

  I strolled up Locust and around a dark, empty Rittenhouse Square. I tried visualizing what it must’ve been like forty or more years before when it’d been a prime cruising spot for gay men. Guys lounging on benches, or standing against the trees, waiting and wishing. That was all history.

  Lots of people crisscrossed the streets. Restaurants slowly emptied out, cafés still buzzed, and I was walking headlong into an unknown situation. I usually had an escape plan but this time I couldn’t, not knowing exactly where I’d be. I’d never visited The Locust Tier which put me at a severe disadvantage.

  Around Nineteenth Street, things became less commercial. A blanket of quiet lay over the area. The closer I came to Twenty-fifth, the quieter and more expensive the neighborhood became. Yellow light filled a few windows here and there. In one or two, the silver-blue light of a TV flickered against the dark. At one-thirty in the morning, few people in this sedate precinct were awake.

  I was alone. Even having called Shim, odds were there’d be no backup if something went wrong.

  As I neared the dead-end corner of Twenty-fifth and Locust, I saw Shuster in the distance, standing in a pool of light created in the carport of The Locust Tier. He paced, occasionally looking at his watch.

  “Get stood up?” I asked as I approached.

  “Finally,” Shuster huffed. “I thought you’d never get here.”

  “Right on time,” I said. “Maybe you need a new watch.”

  “Maybe you need a watch period. It’s almost two o’clock.”

  “I thought we were meeting in your friend’s apartment.” I suspected he’d try something like this.

  “I decided it might be safer outside.” Shuster fidgeted, his voice shook and he couldn’t look me in the eye. “I’ve got a feeling the place is bugged.”

  “Yeah, can’t be too careful.” Now I knew he was scamming me. Who’d want to bug the guy? “So were do we talk? Out here on the apron?”

  “No!” He stared at me wide-eyed. “You crazy? Somebody might see us. That guy… the one who followed me. He might spot us…”

  “Would’a been safer in the apartment in that case.” I waited for him to make a move.

  “Let’s walk. There’s a park across the way.” He pointed.

  “Old Judy Garland Park.” I laughed. “So you wanna play footsie with me in the bushes?” The “park” had been a poorly lit, trash-strewn, weedy area along both sides of railroad tracks next to the Schuylkill River. It’d served as a gay cruising ground for a long time. As soon as yuppies and others gentrified the area, complaints about the park rolled in, forcing the city to clean up part of the area, pave it, plant things nicer than weeds, and officially name it Schuylkill River Park. A large part of what the gay community used to call Judy Garland Park remained. The darkest and most dangerous area on the other side of the abandoned railroad tracks.

  “Get real, Fontana.” Shuster said, annoyed. “It’ll be more private. No ears to hear.”

  “I got a better idea, bucko,” I said.

  “Like what?” Shuster looked at me, his eyes all squinty.

  “Like we go to the apartment—”

  “I just told you, I think it’s bugged.”

  “Maybe I look dumb to you. Or, maybe you think you’re smarter than you are. But I’m not buyin’ the bug story. Got it?”

  Shuster couldn’t help himself and glanced at the park as if his plans had just been shot to hell. They had. He looked at me, then back at the park, then at me.

  “So? What’s it gonna be, Shuster? The apartment? Or you get to see yourself in the papers? Right before the primary, too. What is it they say, can’t get too much free media, right?”

  Shuster glowered.

  “I’m gonna make sure they unload a shit load of free media on your ass.”

  “You can’t do that,” he whined.

  “Oh, you’re right. I can’t.” I paused, slapped my forehead with the palm of my hand. “No, wait! I can. And I will.”

  “I… this isn’t what…”

  “Listen, bucko, it’s after two and I’ve got better things to do, like sleep. Talk or don’t talk. Your call.”

  I decided to take his bluff and started walking away.

  “Wait! Wait…” he said. “We’ll do it your way. Just lemme make a call…”

  “No calls, we go now or not at all.”

  “O-okay.” He moved toward the entrance and the doors silently slid open.

  We entered a cool, high style lobby with what looked like a river of light meandering through the ceiling. Mahogany and brass covered the surfaces, marble flooring, and a sweeping front desk curved and undulated through the lobby. At the far end of the desk a man sat, ramrod straight, curly-haired, and sternly gorgeous.

  “Mr. Shuster,” he said in a deep, throaty voice as he nodded.

  Shuster smiled weakly. I looked the deskman in the eye, as if I’d been in the place a million times.

  We rounded a corner and came to a bank of gleaming elevators. The elevator doors were like fun house mirrors. I saw a distorted view of me and Shuster waiting like misshapen cartoon characters.

  A soft tone signaled the arrival of an elevator. We stepped into a luxurious carpeted car, with subdued lighting. Shuster pushed the button for fifteen and we were on our way. The closer we got, the edgier he became.

  “Somethin’ wrong, Shuster? You look like you ate something bad.”

  “N-no… j-just that I… I’m h-having second thoughts…”

  “Thinking is good. But not if you’re gonna get me all the way out here just to play games.” I wondered if Nolan was waiting in the apartment. Had they hatched this plot together?

  “You… you don’t understand.”

  “I guess I’m gonna understand in
a minute,” I said as the elevator door opened and let us out into an elegantly plush corridor. Cool, sage-colored carpeting, beige walls, classy reproductions hung at regular intervals, expensive-looking sconces lighting the place like a palace.

  Shuster said nothing. He moved forward robotically not looking back at me. When he came to the door for 15L, he stopped and pulled out a set of keys. His hands shook as he found the one he wanted.

  After two or three trembling attempts, the key slipped into the lock and turned. The door opened and Shuster entered ahead of me. He cleared his throat loudly and made noise tossing his keys on a counter.

  We moved into the oddly shaped living room. Large, expensively furnished with a long sofa and several side chairs, it felt like a movie set. Centered in one wall a fake fireplace sat dark. Another wall boasted gigantic windows overlooking the river. The opposite side of the room contained alcoves and nooks. One of the alcoves, nearly cut off from the main room, held a second sofa and small table. Another alcove housed a wet bar. You could host an army in this one room.

  “All right, we’re here,” Shuster said in a too-loud voice. “Satisfied?”

  I knew his chatter was meant for someone else stowed away in the apartment. Before I could say anything, I heard movement in another room. I tensed, slipped my hand under my jacket and on the gun, ready for what might come.

  “You’re back fast. Did you get rid of the dick?” The voice was familiar.

  Pat Kelley appeared around a corner, drink in hand, sour look on his gray face. When he saw me, his eyes widened and his expression morphed from surprise to anger.

  “What the fuck is this? I thought you said—”

  “It’s not… listen, Pat, I tried… I wanted to keep you out of this. Give you deniability.” Shuster was pale. He looked drained and sounded tired.

  “So you bring him right to me? That’s your way of protecting me from this mess?”

  “Kelley, what a surprise…” I said, then turned to Shuster. “This the answer you promised me? Kelley’s the one?”

  “What?” The look of alarm on Shuster’s face was comical. “No! No! You’ve got it all wrong—”

  “Have I? Whattayou say, Kelley? Am I mistaken about what your boy was gonna tell me?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea what he was going to tell you. He said he was going to help you with some case you’re on. To stop you from making a splash in the papers with inaccurate information. I didn’t want to know more.”