“Sure thing,” Roger replied.
Up until that point, no one had noticed a tombstone in a glass case sitting in the far corner in the dim light. The name of the tombstone was Elihu Yale. “Is that the Yale that founded this place?” asked Anderson.
“Got me,” Sam replied.
Roger had gone back to the cabinet, and found a secret drawer and when he opened it, he found photo albums. He pulled out two thick albums and when he opened one, he said, “Whoa! Don’t need to see these.”
As they gathered around the first album, they found photos of naked men kneeling in the coffin. At the moment of climax, a photo was taken of their face as they experienced the sweet pleasure and pain of ejaculation. There was the record previously mentioned as being required. Only the first picture showed the entire man, and that was at least seventy years old. The rest of the pictures were from the chest up.
“If my father is in there, I don’t want to see it,” Anderson said as strongly as possible.
They flipped through the photos fairly quickly making sure they were all of the guys doing their “CB.” “Well that was a tad distasteful,” said the Lieutenant.
“What about the other album?” Sam asked.
Roger opened it up and found many photographs of various groups of men within the confines of the Tomb going back to about the time when cameras were first available to the public. One photograph in particular caught Anderson’s eye. It was of his father with the group. As he looked closer, he noted that his father had been seated in a plush chair at one end of the room, while the other men bowed towards Williams. A note next to the picture stated, “Seating of the new President,” and was dated 1966.
“I never knew my father was the President of this club one year,” Anderson said.
“Look, something else to notice, only two of the other three black men are pictured here and if the names line up with the photo, the fourth black guy isn’t anywhere near Williams, but in the back by himself. I wonder why?” mused Sam out loud.
“Have you seen everything?” asked the Lieutenant.
“Yes, we’ll seize this photo album and leave the rest of this stuff here. Oh, the book with all the names in it as well. Roger, make out a receipt for these two things to give to the kid, and let’s get out of this dump,” said Sam.
At the exit to the Tomb, the group found the current President of the club standing there with three other men. Two were in suits and didn’t look pleased.
“Okay sir, if you’ll sign right here, you’ll acknowledge that we are seizing these two items and will return them when we are finished with them,” said the Lieutenant.
“Excuse me, but I’m Anthony Wellstone, and I represent this club. Here is my card. The warrant is in the process of being quashed which means that you may not remove anything from the premises.”
“Actually, it means that we can proceed until advised that said warrant is no longer valid; isn’t that the truth of the matter Counselor?” ask Sam.
“Well, maybe technically, but that does not mean that you should leave knowing this,” replied the lawyer.
“Actually, it means we can in fact leave and we are doing so. Since your client refuses to sign the receipt, we’ll give it to you and take our leave.”
As the group headed towards their police cruisers, they heard the kid yelling at the lawyer to do something. There was nothing he could do until a superior judge quashed the warrant.
“Let’s get out of here and onto our next stop: the home of Percy Evans,” said Sam to everyone in a low voice.
They left the Yale campus and headed to the home of retired police officer Percy Evans, and finding no one home, forced their way into the house. They looked around and found nothing of interest but business cards stating that he was the owner of a camera surveillance operation that specialized in “spying.”
The house was neat with nothing out of line. A couple of guns were found along with ammunition. The ammunition fit all of the guns present with the exception of the .357 caliber ammo.
“I suppose since we can’t locate a gun for that ammo, that it is more than likely being carried by the retired officer which is legal, unless you happen to be killing people,” observed Sam.
“Well, let’s get outta here and get on the highway before we have to return the books we have,” said Roger.
“Okay, Lieutenant, will you forward to us any information you can get using the warrant at Yale on Mr. Evans?” asked Sam.
“Sure thing. I’ll get to it first thing in the morning and fax them over to you tomorrow afternoon, if that’s all right.”
“Yes sir, that would be great. Thanks for your helping out with this case. I’m sorry it centers on one of your former men,” said Sam.
“It happens sometimes. I’ll be in touch.”
With that, Sam, Roger and Anderson piled into Sam’s cruiser and headed out to the highway back to New York City. The ride back was full of thoughts on everyone’s part with hardly any talking. Anderson sat in the back of the cruiser thumbing through all of the pictures of the Bonesmen down through the ages, paying particular attention to any picture with his father in it. It in some ways was good for Anderson to see these new pictures as he felt it gave him a little more insight into the early days of his father’s life. Finally, he closed the book, and then his eyes, tired of thinking about what it all meant.
* * * *
During the ride back, Anderson was too tired and stunned to say much. He remained silent in the back seat with his head pressed against the headrest and his eyes closed. He wanted to pour his heart out but he wasn’t sure how much Roger knew about Sam’s personal life. Though he wanted to scream, rant and rave, he held it in, behaved himself. They had found clues that he hoped would help solve the case but the killer seemed to always be a step ahead of them. Anderson was getting more and more frustrated with each dead end. There were only so many times he could bang his head into a brick wall and not feel anything.
When the car stopped at Anderson’s place Anderson almost fell over. The “for sale” sign stood proudly in the front lawn. Anderson would have chuckled had the situation not been so serious but Jack was moving fast. He took a deep, steadying breath and forced himself to walk up to the front door, entered the house like a regular person and not tear ass through the whole place digging for cameras. Sam had stopped outside to speak with Roger before Anderson heard the car leaving. He had assumed Sam was gone so he reached into the fridge for a bottle of alcoholic lemonade. He was wringing the cap from it when a movement caught his eyes. He looked up to see Sam leaning against the door frame, with his arms folded over his large chest and a concerned look on his face.
“Say something,” Sam said, breaking the silence.
“What do you want me to say?” Anderson questioned and took a swig from the bottle.
Sam walked over and took the bottle from Anderson’s hand. “Anything. Yell, scream—show some emotion.”
“I don’t know what else I can say,” Anderson rolled his aching shoulders. “My father is dead, his legacy gone, we found fornicating cult members, orchids, skulls and bones…this is something movies are made of, Sam. I don’t know how to deal. None of this is supposed to be happening.”
Sam didn’t speak so Anderson continued. “I mean, I never thought my father would be murdered by some deranged serial killer. I thought he would get shot at, yes, but murdered? I think all of this is finally slapping me in the face.”
When Sam moved again, Anderson was shocked, for the cop reached out with more tenderness that Anderson thought was in him. Sam wrapped his arms around Anderson, cradling his head protectively against Sam’s shoulder. Anderson allowed his body to be swallowed by Sam’s heat and he exhaled long and hard.
“Shh,” Sam hushed him. Sam did not know he had that much soul, that much softness left inside him. Years of being a cop and of seeing so much pain he had thought for sure his softer side was dead. He never thought he was capable to sooth a lover’s fraz
zled mind. “It’s frustrating, I know. But we can do this.”
Sam held onto Anderson and in the quiet of the large house a phone rang. But still Sam held on, ignoring the sound, blocking it out. He couldn’t let Anderson go, for something inside of him told Sam to hold on, to touch Anderson, to caress him. Then it had to be the moment for when Anderson looked up, there was only one thing Sam could do. He had to do what his mind, body and soul was telling him to do. He cradled Anderson’s face as though he would break—softly, tenderly- and covered his lips. Sam Morgan kissed his lover in the kitchen while forcing the world to go away. He wanted desperately to take care of Anderson, to protect him…
To love him.
No—too soon!
For the first time in his life, Sam felt emotionally helpless against the storm of his heart and lips that spread ever so willingly beneath his. For that moment, he allowed himself to fall aimlessly, hopelessly in love with Anderson. Deep down he knew it could end in angered tears but Sam told his body to let go. He told the wall around his heart to stand down.
That one, dangerous moment.
Their kiss endured, fiery, breathtaking and delicious. He felt his body falling backwards and looked up. They had made their way into the bedroom and Anderson was laying him down against the bed. He wrapped his arms around Anderson, grabbed the professor’s ass and pushed. Sam sighed and spread his legs then moaned when Anderson’s hardened cock crushed against him. Their clothes were in the way.
Anderson shivered against Sam but took no regard for the clothes that were in his way. He ripped at the shirt, tugged at the pants and everything else. His hands reached for Sam’s gun but Sam covered Anderson’s fingers and moved the hand away. Anderson watched as Sam removed the gun and placed it against the bedside table.
“You never reach for a cop’s gun,” Sam whispered with a growl. Anderson smiled.
“Lesson learned,” he returned before reaching for Sam’s cock. “How about this gun?”
Anderson looked down into Sam’s eyes as he caressed the penis now throbbing in his hand.
“Reach away,” Sam arched upward to bite against Anderson’s cheek. A sound left the teacher’s throat that threatened to drive him mad. But he had other things on his mind—things like pleasing his protector and lover. With a smile, he bowed his head and licked at one of Sam’s nipples then the other. Sam’s large body slumped backwards on the bed and Anderson took that as his permission to keep going. With one hand jacking his lover he used the other to caressed Sam’s body as he feasted from Sam’s nipples.
The air around them was thick with passion. It was a much needed ease into their lovemaking that was so desperately necessary. It began lightly raining outside and it seemed as though the lower Anderson’s mouth got on Sam’s body, the harder the rain fell. Lightning flashed through the window, lighting up the inside of the room just as Anderson’s mouth captured the throbbing prize he had sought for so long. He pulled Sam down his throat, enjoying the way Sam’s body writhed, lifted and fell. He took great pride in the sounds Sam made from deep within his throat to rival the thunder that rolled.
Anderson’s body ached, it boiled and soon he was completely delirious with what he was doing. He used his tongue to tease Sam—up the shaft, over his balls then swallowed the cock again.
Sam thought he would lose his mind. Who knew that it could be like this? He felt the head of his penis slide down Anderson’s throat for what had to be the hundredth time and he couldn’t take it. He gripped his lover’s shoulders and pulled Anderson up his body and flipped him onto his stomach. But Sam didn’t take the heated center he craved. Instead, he licked a finger and inserted it.
“Sam…”
He worked the large finger deep inside Anderson and watched the ebony solidness of the professor’s back arched. Withdrawing the finger, he licked it once more and replaced it with two. A growl left Anderson before his fingers reached back and his nails sunk into Sam’s thigh. Sam reached forward in reply and bit down against Anderson’s shoulder while his fingers moved faster and faster.
He licked a trail up Anderson’s back—then down again before spreading Anderson’s cheeks and allowing his tongue to replace his fingers.
Anderson’s teeth sank into the pillow before him to stop the cry that threatened to leave his mouth. But not even that could stop the shout of absolute pleasure that erupted from him when Sam sank his full length into him. His hands clenched the sheet tightly even as he pushed up to ride against Sam.
As it stormed outside, Anderson allowed his lawman to ride him—deeper, harder, faster. With each movement, every changed position, Sam was deeper, especially when he began to fuck Anderson in the missionary position.
More.
He begged Sam to release him but Sam held on—forcing Anderson’s body to new, more blissful heights. When Anderson finally came, it was with his face pressed into Sam’s neck, his fingers tangled in Sam’s hair and his body trembling and dragging Sam along for the ride.
Just as silently as they had begun their love making, Anderson slumped to the bed, but rolled to pull Sam into his body.
Chapter Eleven
As Sam walked into his office the next morning, he hoped that the night shift had put a fresh pot of coffee on for the day shift. He was in no mood to clean up after them once again and make coffee. Sam grabbed his coffee cup from his desk and walked towards the coffee room, smelling freshly brewed coffee which put a smile on his face.
Not only was there coffee, but the guys had put out fresh donuts. He picked out two chocolate ones which were his favorites, picked up his cup and left the room, yelling his thanks to the guys who were on the way out of the office. He got a wave of a couple of hands in response.
Maybe this would be a good day after all. He sat down, turned on his computer and waited to check his email as he sat back and munched on the first donut. He heard whistling from the hallway and knew that his partner was now in, and in a good mood.
“Good morning Roger, feeling good this morning?” Sam asked with a smile.
“Yep. Gotta date tonight and I can’t wait. It’s with a chick I’ve been asking out for some time now and she finally said yes last night. Is there more coffee in there?”
“There was as of five minutes ago,” Sam replied.
As Roger was getting his morning liquid, Sam quickly checked his email seeing one from his boss. It was advising him that the warrant in New Haven had been quashed and was no longer good. They would have to return the photo albums to the Bonesmen today when they came to pick them up.
“Damn, no rest for the weary,” Sam exclaimed. He got up and took the photo albums into the copy room and began to scan each and every page into a file that would be transferred to this computer. There would be almost one hundred pages between the book and albums by the time he finished. Roger found him and asked why he seemed in an agitated mood all of a sudden.
“Because we gotta give these books back to those kids today, in fact they could be outside now demanding their return. The damn warrant got recalled and we have no legal right to hold onto these things. Fucking kids got connections, I’ll give ‘em that!” Sam said with a growl.
After forty-five minutes of work, Sam completed his task and returned to his desk with the disc that he promptly put into his computer and uploaded. He then placed the disc into the middle desk drawer which could be locked. The phone rang and when he picked it up he found the desk Sergeant on the other end advising him that there was a lawyer from New Haven at the desk demanding the return of items taken pursuant to a “bad warrant.”
“Tell him to have a seat; I’ll be out in a couple minutes when I’ve finished my fucking coffee.”
Sam hung up and said to Roger, “Well, they didn’t waste any time, they’re here already for the books. Damn glad I jumped on the scanning of them.”
“Lawyers, damn,” was the only reply from Roger.
“Don’t you mean damn lawyers, Roger?”
“Yeah, that too.
”
Sam got up and grabbed the books and headed out into the desk area where he found the same lawyer that tried to stop them from removing the books in the first place. He did not look happy.
“I guess you want these back?” Sam asked with a smirk.
“I told you yesterday that the warrant was no good, but you had to make me drive down to this damn city just to get them back,” he said with an angry look.
“I’m sure you’re well paid counselor, have a safe trip back.”
As Sam walked back towards the door that led into the squad room, he heard the lawyer issue a warning. “If you decide to come back to New Haven, I’d advise you to stay away from my client, or I might consider it harassment.”
Sam stopped and turned back towards the lawyer. He walked back up to him and stood about twelve inches from his face and said, “If for whatever reason we might have to come back to your fair city, I’ll damn well talk to whoever I need to talk to, you understand that? You act like you represent the President of the United States or something with that garbage.”
“In fact, past Presidents have belonged to this club, and they remain involved in its well being.”
“Yeah, well the current President never went to Yale, so piss off.”
Sam turned once again and walked back to his desk where he relayed the conversation to his partner. “Sam, I think we’ve been threatened, I’m scared, how ‘bout you?” Roger asked.
“Oh yeah, me too, I’m scared of the Bonesmen and their connections,” Sam replied.
“What’s our next step in this mess?”
“Roger, put out an APB on our retired cop. Let’s see if we can’t pick him up for questioning. Time to let him know we know more than he thinks we know. If he hasn’t been home yet, he doesn’t know we paid his house a visit. Make sure you put in there that he is a retired cop and probably armed.”
“Yeah, we don’t want him shot; at least until we know for sure if he’s the serial killer.”
The Orchid Murders Page 13
