Clay blinked. “I’m here. What have we got?”
Rick motioned to his DS, who nodded. “At seven a.m. Tuesday morning, Simon Shaw arrived at his business, Stuffed for Choice,” her voice faltered for a second, “and found the body of his resident taxidermist, JJ Baxter, lying in the back room. He checked for a pulse, found none, and called nine-nine-nine.” She cleared her throat and stared at everyone expectantly.
Tate cocked his head. “Cause of death determined, or do we need to wait for the coroner?”
Carol looked over at Rick. “It’s an unusual circumstance but at first glance, COD appears to be suffocation with an object.” She seemed embarrassed and Clay felt a frisson of anticipation. Something was certainly hinky and he couldn’t wait to find out what.
Rick sighed. “Okay, guys, what DS Meadham is struggling with telling you, because she’s a lady and has told me this is way out of her comfort zone,” he smirked slightly, “but not mine, and possibly not yours either, given the company we keep, is that JJ appears to have been choked to death with a stuffed penis.” He glanced around the room with anticipation.
“A stuffed penis?” Tate echoed faintly. “He was killed by a damned cock in his mouth? Damn. I need to be more careful.”
Carol laughed politely, but her face blushed pink. Aurelio stifled a laugh and poked Clay in the ribs. “He has such a simple way of putting things, your Tate.”
Clay looked over at his boyfriend. “That’s one way of saying it,” he murmured affectionately.
“Not quite how I would have phrased it,” Rick said. He frowned at Tate, who shrugged. Clay tried not to laugh. His lover did have a weird sense of the macabre.
“The forensics team have finished at the scene,” Rick continued. “The body was removed for postmortem and the results will be with us whenever Rupert deigns to release it. He has a backlog at the moment due to staffing issues so it’s taking a bit longer. I’ve asked him how soon we can have it and his response was as expected.”
Clay snorted. “‘When I fucking release it’ was the response, I’m sure.”
In his late thirties, Rupert Bushmill was a slim, well-dressed man of Swiss descent who was a stickler for the rules, but also one of the most meticulous people Clay knew. If Clay died from unexplained causes, Rupert was the man he’d want investigating it.
Rick nodded. “About right. I expect we’ll have it today or tomorrow though so I can’t complain.” He looked around, clearly getting ready to give them the gritty nitty. “The initial take from the pathologist at the scene was that it looked like someone sat on Mr Baxter’s chest and forced the object into his mouth until he suffocated. He’s not a big guy, maybe a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet, so first thoughts are the murderer could be a man or a woman. The body bears bruise marks on his torso, and there are possibly some broken ribs.”
“Excuse me,” Tate butted in. “Has everyone missed sight of the actual problem here? The poor man was killed with a deadly weapon of dick. Am I the only one who thinks this is fucking weird? And in really bad taste?”
He raised his hands and an eyebrow to the group. Aurelio sighed heavily and muttered something in Italian Clay didn’t catch.
Rick rolled his eyes. “It hasn’t escaped me that would be what you focused on. You have the mind of a child.”
Tate’s face grew stony. “It’s not the dick part I’m talking about, Rick. It’s the lack of respect for the dead man in being ridiculed that way and left for the world to see. That smacks of something way up close and personal. Have you narrowed down any suspects yet that could do that to a guy?”
Rick had the grace to look shamefaced. “Yeah, I get where you’re coming from. Sorry, didn’t mean to disparage your concerns.” He motioned to his DS. “Your turn.”
The police sergeant sighed. “In case any of you were wondering, the item in Mr Baxter’s mouth wasn’t human.”
Clay had indeed been wondering about that. He’d thought it was illegal to mount or use human remains in taxidermy. He made a mental note to Google it when he got back to the office.
DS Meadham consulted her notes. “Apparently Mr Shaw sells these things as oddities. They are custom made by a friend of his and consist of a thin, flexible armature covered with leather and suede and stuffed with scraps of cotton. In terms of suspects, so far we have no witnesses, and we’re still trying to get hold of Mr Baxter’s girlfriend. We understand that recently there was some animosity between them.”
Rick blew out a puff of air. “And that’s where you guys come in with your special talents and networks.” He gestured to Clay, Tate, and Aurelio. “While we coppers do the legwork on the leads we get, and follow up on where the evidence takes us, if you could talk to everyone in the alley, find out more for us about the victim, the shop, and anything else you think is relevant. That would be much appreciated.” He scowled. “The patrons appear rather unwilling to talk to us for obvious reasons.”
Aurelio lifted an eyebrow. “And what would those be, pray tell?”
Rick flushed. “Well, we’ve already found someone selling their own version of cannabis oil with a higher-than-allowed content of THC. Like blow your mind higher. Oh, and there’s the person who’s importing foodstuffs illegally, bringing goods in that shouldn’t be in the UK. Some person from a place called,” he checked his notebook, “‘Lewd Foods.’”
Aurelio sighed. “I’ll talk to them. Are you arresting anyone or pressing charges?”
Rick shook his head. “They’ve been given a caution this time. But, Aurelio, I can’t keep giving them slack. One of these days I’m going to have to hang someone with the rope or my job is on the line.”
Aurelio nodded. “Duly noted. Thank you, Rick. I assure you I’ll talk to everyone about keeping their houses in order.”
“So what’s next?” Tate enquired. “You want us to shake down this girlfriend, find out what the fuss was all about?” He pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. He’d been threatening to cut it shorter lately and Clay was still trying to talk him out of it.
Rick nodded. “Yes, please, and interview Simon Shaw for me. He’s not a fan of the police, and gave the lads some lip earlier.” Again he consulted his notebook. “The girlfriend’s name is Ingrid Vos, and she lives a few blocks from here. I’ll ask DS Meadham to get you all the information, including the crime scene photos, and perhaps you can have a talk with Ms Vos at your convenience.” He grimaced. “The team has already called her to ask her some questions about Mr Baxter’s death, about which she professed to know nothing. She wasn’t there, so how could she say anything, etcetera. Apparently, she got rather emotional and slammed the phone down on them. She’s confrontational and doesn’t like the police.”
Rick sighed. “This alley is a smorgasbord of drama queens and tight-knit secrets.” He glanced at Aurelio in apology. “No offence, but if Tate and Clay can be the official mouthpieces on this one, it’ll save me grey hairs. I’ve already had one copper threaten to arrest Shaw for obstruction of justice. Heat levels are rising in the alley and I don’t want there to be an all-out uprising. We don’t need bad PR if you take my meaning.”
“Sure,” Tate muttered. “Throw us into the crazy pool and see if we swim.” He turned to Clay. “I ask again, how did we get this gig?”
Clay chuckled at Tate’s plaintive tone. “Babe, you know you love it. This is like manna from heaven so stop your whining.”
Tate snorted. “Says you.” He mumbled something under his breath Clay didn’t catch. Carol Meadham giggled at whatever he’d said as she and Tate shared a look of camaraderie. It appeared Clay’s lover had once again endeared himself to a fellow detective with his own brand of charm. Cops. They understood each other and stuck together.
Aurelio raised his hands, palms up. “It appears we have a plan. Of course, if you need anything from me, Clay, all you have to do is ask.” He looked at Rick. “I appreciate the police trying to manage the often volatile situation in Fetish Alley with th
e grace you have shown so far. While I do not expect to have any privileges, it is a welcome offering.”
“Talking about welcome offerings, Aurelio,” Tate drawled, “have you seen Tomas lately? I understand he was here doing some more work for you a couple of weeks ago. Have you two kissed and made up after your last blow-up, then?” His hazel eyes sparkled with merriment.
Clay coughed, trying to hide the laugh welling up in his chest. He might have known Tate would poke that not-so-sleepy bear, given Relio and Tomas were in close proximity again.
Aurelio cast a frosty look in Tate’s direction. “There has been no kissing, and while I do not owe anyone an update, yes, he has been here. He has gone back home now. His work is done.” He turned to Rick. “I trust everything is under control then, and you have my number should you need it.”
Rick nodded. Aurelio crossed the room and pulled Clay in for a tight hug, kissing him on both cheeks as he did. “Your man is a troublemaker, mio caro,” he murmured, as Tate watched them with narrowed eyes. “But I give as good as I get, and he would do well to remember that.” His hug lasted longer than normal, and Clay was about to move away when Tate growled softly.
Aurelio released Clay with a smirk. “You are still working out, I see. I confess I do not get to the gym as often as I should. Perhaps I should join yours.” He smiled wolfishly, with a show of white teeth, and Clay hastened to cut the potential disaster off in its infancy. It was unusual for Relio to provoke Tate to this extent, so the Tomas comment must have cut deep and close to the bone.
“Relio, you hate going to the gym so don’t even pretend you fancy joining. Stick to running.” Time to leave, he thought in amusement. Rick and Carol were clearly enjoying the testosterone display, given the grins on both their faces. Tate looked ready to stride over and pull Clay away from Aurelio caveman-style.
“Here’s my card.” Clay slipped it into Carol’s outstretched hand. “If you could send over the details as discussed, that would be a great start.” He gestured to Tate, who was still glowering at Aurelio and seemed unperturbed by the dagger stare lasering his way. “Let’s pop down and see Simon Shaw and the crime scene before we see Ms Vos.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s not lunchtime yet so we should catch him.” Clay nodded at Rick and Carol. “We’ll let you know if we get any info.” He turned to Tate. “You ready?”
Impatiently, Tate brushed his hair back from his face. “Ready,” he grunted. “Rick, tell Lucy I’ll call her later. It’s time we did dinner again.” He paused. “She’s in the UK, yeah? The way my sister gallivants around the world, I have to ask.”
“Mum is home, and no doubt she’ll be thrilled to hear from you.” Rick scrunched up his nose. “She has a new beau I’m not too keen on, so perhaps you can give me your opinion of him because I’m guessing she’ll bring him along if you guys go out.”
“What’s the problem with him?” Tate’s brow furrowed. “He better be treating her right,” he said fiercely.
“Yeah, he’s okay that way.” Rick sighed. “He has piles of money and a yacht, and a bloody private plane, but no one can truly be as decent as he seems to be. Too good to be true.”
Clay had no doubt Rick had credit-checked and investigated the poor man to within an inch of his life. He and Tate were of similar ilk: loyal and fiercely protective about the people they loved.
Aurelio laughed. “He sounds perfect. Please, if things don’t work out, send him my way.” He wiggled his eyebrows comically.
Rick chuckled. “Gordon is strictly ladies only. Sorry.”
Aurelio pouted. “The story of my life. All the best ones are taken.” He looked at Clay as he said this, a wicked glint in his eye.
Clay stepped hurriedly in front of a glowering Tate and smiled at everyone. “Our cue to leave. Speak to you later, Rick. DS Meadham.”
He hustled his boyfriend out of the room and into the sunny foyer, ignoring Tate’s muttered, “One day I am going to fucking punch him in the face.”
It didn’t escape Clay that Aurelio had adroitly commandeered the situation away from any further talk of Tomas. Interesting.
Ahead of them, the entrance hall beckoned, and as they entered the wider space and made their way to the front door, someone shouted, “Gentlemen. Please wait.”
Startled, they both turned to see a woman come out of a room off the corridor. Eleanor Lixer hurried toward them, her face shadowed by the brim of a blue velvet fedora. Clay had interacted with her briefly during the Barnaby Dixon investigation, but only now noticed with a start that Eleanor was startlingly attractive. Probably in her late twenties, she had a tattoo of something that resembled chain link around her pale throat, and had green eyes beneath strong brows. Long russet hair fell across her shoulders in waves of straight silk. As she drew closer, the other thing Clay noticed was her too-pale face and the shadows under her eyes, much like Aurelio’s.
“I’m so pleased I saw you gentlemen.” Eleanor’s husky voice was soft. “I didn’t want to talk to the police. Could I have a moment of your time, please?”
“Of course.” Clay stopped, Tate was by her side, and they both regarded her curiously. “How can we help?”
Eleanor took a deep breath. “I assume you’re here because of JJ’s death? Are you going to investigate who killed him?” Her voice trembled and she raised shaking hands to tuck her hair behind her ear. “It isn’t right, him dying like that. Things are happening in the alley. Ugly things. I think there will be more.”
Tate leaned in, eyes narrowing. “I can see you’re upset. Do you know anything about his death?” His voice gentled. “Any information you have will help us in our enquiries.”
Eleanor’s face shadowed. “You must talk to Ingrid. She has something to do with it, I swear. I feel it.”
Tate frowned. Clay looked at Eleanor thoughtfully. “Ingrid is his ex-girlfriend, from what I recall. What makes you think she might be responsible?”
Eleanor’s hands waved like birds in flight. “Ingrid is a crazy person,” she spat. “Her aura is a deep, dark red, and I wouldn’t put it past her to do something terrible.”
Tate sighed. “Ma’am, we can’t solve a murder based on a person’s aura. We need some solid evidence before we can investigate anyone. Accusations have to have substance for us to move forward.”
Eleanor’s eyes flashed. “I understand that. I’m simply asking you to deal with her and read between the lines if she tells you her story. She lies and perverts the facts to represent what she wants as an outcome.”
Clay nodded. Eleanor and JJ were more than friends. I’d bet on it. He glanced at Tate, who nodded imperceptibly. Tate felt it too. “Ms Lixer,” Clay asked gently. “You appear to be personally invested in Mr Baxter’s death. Is there something we should know?”
Eleanor’s breathing quickened. “JJ was my friend.” Her eyes wouldn’t meet Clay’s. They darted away to look over his shoulder. “Of course I’m invested in his death.”
Oh, you’re more than invested, Clay thought with compassion. You were in love with the man. Or, at least, having some sort of relationship with him. “Thanks for the information. We’ll make sure to keep an open mind when we interview Ms Vos.”
Tate dug into his jacket and held out a grubby piece of card. Clay shook his head in exasperation. The state of Tate’s business cards were a source of friction between them, along with the whole “not wearing a suit” thing. His cards were always pushed into the deep recesses of his jackets or jeans pockets and came out looking tattered and worn. One time Clay had seen a jelly baby stuck to the back of one. Tate had simply peeled it off and handed the card over to the unlucky recipient. Clay had no idea where the jelly baby had gone. Probably into the deep recesses of Tate’s pocket to stick to yet another business card.
Tate ignored Clay’s disapproval and motioned to the card now in Eleanor’s hand. “If you want to talk, or think of anything else, feel free to call me. I’m available any time.”
Eleanor nodded and reached out to c
lasp Tate’s hand. He looked surprised but didn’t try to remove it. “Your aura is lighter than the last time I saw you,” she whispered. “The dragon no longer weaves its poison into your soul. Your demon remains, but I think that with this one,” she waved a hand at Clay, “you control it.” She let go of Tate’s hand. “Be careful, both of you. Mr Borese is holding the danger back, but he can’t do it alone forever. He will need friends to help him.”
She turned swiftly and walked away, leaving Clay staring after her in bemusement. “Well, that was a bit odd,” Clay murmured. “I think we should introduce her to Taylor. I’m sure they’d have a lot to talk about.” And it reinforced his spidey sense that all was not well in the alley.
When Tate didn’t answer, Clay looked over. Tate’s face had paled, and his hazel eyes were troubled. “Babe, you okay?”
“Why did she use a dragon analogy?” Tate muttered. “That’s spooky.”
Clay frowned. “Dragon? Why would that worry you—” He cut off, nodding his head in understanding. “You mean because of the dragon tattoo on your arse? I doubt she meant it that way, probably coincidence.”
Tate’s dragon tattoo on his right butt cheek covered up a mutilation performed by a psycho drug lord Tate had known during an undercover operation that went wrong. That man was dead now, but his cruel legacy remained in the occasional nightmares Tate still suffered.
“Maybe.” Tate looked after her uneasily. “Seems a specific thing to focus on though. She’s scary.” His eyes narrowed. “And what was all that blarney about the alley, and Aurelio?”
Clay shrugged. “It has been a trying time. First Dixon, now Baxter. I suppose she’s picking up on all of that.” He frowned. “I must say I’m getting the feeling all isn’t right here though. Aurelio looked drawn, and Eleanor didn’t look the picture of health either. I suppose it could be the recent crimes they’ve had, but still…”
He knew Aurelio was still dealing with the protection scam swirling in Fetish Alley. Clay had had a call a few days ago, which had been clear in its message: Tell your friend Aurelio to stop making waves and to direct his people to pay the protection. Or else someone is going to get hurt.
Death By C*ck (Fetish Alley Book 2) Page 3
