Crimes on Latimer: From the Early Cases of Marco Fontana

by DeMarco, Joseph R. G.

  “Yeah, not even the art world is above it all. Plenty of you slimeballs hanging in galleries along with the art.”

  Tom said nothing. I imagined he was still devising a plan around what I’d planted in his mind.

  “You’ve got a chance to do something good, Tom. You set a kid free and let him have his life back. And you make an old man happy. You give back something that’s precious to him.”

  “I’m still gonna have to tell him I took the sketch.”

  “I don’t care what story you make up as long as you get Mikey off the hook and get something like that sketch back to Haldane.”

  “But, Seamus will know, won’t he?”

  “If you’re at all cozy with Seamus, maybe you can make him forget about the sketch. On the other hand, I doubt it, considering he’s convinced it’s the real deal. But I’ll leave that up to you, too. You made this mess, you clean it up. All I care about is getting Mikey off the hook and maybe seeing Haldane happy again.”

  ***

  “You did it,” Luke said.

  I wasn’t sure whether to feel complimented or mildly insulted by the amazement in his voice.

  “Thought I couldn’t handle this, huh?”

  “N-no, it’s just… well, all right, I wasn’t sure. I’d heard you were good but there’s nothing like seeing for yourself.” Luke raised one eyebrow.

  “I’m sure Mikey is relieved.”

  “You have no idea. He’s ready to become your indentured servant for the next few years.” Luke laughed. It was a hearty laugh and sexy. “How about dinner on me? I feel like celebrating.”

  “You got it.” I smiled at him and Luke made it clear that dinner wasn’t all he wanted which was all right with me.

  The G-String Thief

  I should’ve seen it coming but I can’t have eyes everywhere.

  The slender guy in the black jacket had been staring at Kyle with more than passing interest, but I thought he was just another love-struck patron who couldn’t get enough of one of my strippers. I’d let it go and turned my back on them to take care of other things. That was my first mistake. I’d only formed the stripper troupe a little while ago and I was still learning the ropes.

  As soon as I turned away, I heard Kyle shouting, “Hey! Ow! Get the fuck away!”

  When I turned back around to figure out what was happening, all I saw was a crowd growing around the bar. The only thing visible was Kyle’s head and shoulders and his jerky movements trying to fend someone off. The slender patron who’d been paying Kyle too much attention was hidden in the mass of people. But I assumed he was causing the trouble.

  All I knew was that Kyle kept shouting and I had to get to him quick.

  Patrons had formed a dense wall around Kyle, forcing me to push and shove my way through. It almost didn’t matter, because no matter how fast I moved, everything else moved faster and I couldn’t stop it.

  Kyle shouted sharply enough to cut through the crowd noise. “Get the fuck off me,” he yelled.

  As I pushed my way closer, I spied the tall, dark-haired customer, hands outstretched, pawing Kyle’s legs, reaching for his g-string. Jacket sleeves pushed to his elbows, he yanked roughly on Kyle’s g-string. Kyle held on with one hand and slapped at him with the other. The guy’s expression said he took pleasure in Kyle’s discomfort.

  Alone on top of the bar, Kyle was vulnerable. No one from the staff could get to him quickly enough. The bartender tried to help, but he couldn’t reach over the bar enough to push the customer away. Two bouncers waded through the crowd but they were farther away than I was.

  Kyle did his best fending off the attack. Pushing at the guy’s hands was useless. I knew he didn’t dare try kicking the guy. That would throw Kyle off balance and off the bar top onto the glasses and bottles.

  Kyle was trapped until I could get to him.

  Just before I reached them, the dark-haired guy succeeded in ripping off Kyle’s white satin g-string. He grinned maliciously, then broke roughly through the crowd heading away from me and toward the door.

  I wanted to chase after him, but Kyle needed me more. Kevin, tall and burly, dashed out the door even before I signaled him to do it. But I knew it was already too late.

  Finally at the bar, I reached out my arms to Kyle, indicating he should jump down. He seemed caught between anger and embarrassment and for a moment wasn’t able to move. Sleek and tan, Kyle covered his crotch with his hands and stared at me.

  “Hop down, Kyle. I’ll catch you.” I gestured with my arms as I shouted.

  Kyle stared angrily at the patrons gawping at him. He wanted to jump but didn’t want to reveal any more than he had already.

  “C’mon, Kyle. Let’s get you out of here.” I signaled again for him to hop down.

  The spell finally broken, he looked down as if seeing me for the first time. Keeping one hand over his crotch, he reached out his other for me to grab. I helped him slip off the bar and into my arms with as much dignity as possible under the circumstances. Once he was down, I immediately wrapped my jacket around his waist and walked him back through the crowd.

  Kyle was a favorite with the patrons. Thick, dark blond hair, masculine jaw line, deep-set eyes. He moved as gracefully as possible, his lightly muscled body taut. Flushed with embarrassment, he leaned into me, holding me tight and huddling close as if he wanted to disappear. He felt warm and he trembled slightly as we moved through the staring patrons.

  I felt everyone’s eyes on us, all wanting a look, and I knew Kyle felt it even more acutely. Though they’d seen him nearly naked on any number of nights, this was different. This exposure made him vulnerable, made everything more real. It felt as if they fed off the pain and the novelty.

  “You all right, Kyle?” I asked.

  “Just shaken up… and totally bare,” he said, his voice elevated. “I hope they all got a good look.” He was angry and bitter. “Fuck! This is the second time in three nights that guy bothered me. None of the other dancers, just me.” He huddled closer to me as if I could protect him. I should have. It was my responsibility. “Can’t you do something, Marco?”

  I’d started StripGuyz a year or so ago, and there was still a lot to get used to. It all felt new in so many ways, especially since we’d moved our operation into Bubbles and had begun an even bigger program than we’d started with. The rules were generally the same as when the troupe floated from bar to bar, but being in one location most of the time came with new challenges. Protecting the dancers came first. I’d hired staff to watch for trouble and deal with it, but sometimes it was not enough. Bubbles had several of their own bouncers who happily took care of troublemakers. But the bar staff was new to the idea of having a nightly strip show, and we were all working things out as we went along.

  Of course, in a strip club customers get close to the performers. That’s the draw and the drawback. You don’t want things getting out of hand, but there are too many variables and not enough ways to control the human animal. Dancers were especially vulnerable when performing on the bar or working the floor. I’d have to talk to Stan, the bar owner, about taking on more security.

  “I’ll hire more bouncers. For now, let’s get you dressed.”

  “It wasn’t just that he took the g-string,” Kyle said as we headed up to the dressing room.

  “He did something else?”

  “He kinda threatened me. It wasn’t specific, though,” Kyle said.

  “What’d he say? Can you remember his exact words?”

  “He told me I’d better stop stripping. Or else.” He shuddered.

  “We should find you a place to stay for a few nights.”

  “Thanks, Marco. But when I think about it, I can guess what this is all about. At least I think so. I hate that it’s happening, and I don’t want everybody to know about it.”

  “You know who’s behind it?” I was not entirely surprised. Kyle came to the group with a lot of secrets. He’d told me some, but he was still largely a mystery. “Tell me,
Kyle. Maybe I can do something.”

  “My family. That’s what I suspect, Marco. I told you a little about them, didn’t I? I’d bet anything they’re behind this.”

  “You don’t really know for sure, though.”

  “Who else is gonna want me outta the business? I don’t play around outside of work. I don’t do drugs. I’m duller than dull, Marco. You know that.”

  “I wouldn’t say dull, Kyle. Not the way you dance.”

  “It’s all an act. You know that, too. Guys might wanna rip off the g-string and see what’s under there. But who’s gonna do that and then tell me to quit stripping?”

  “You have a point,” I said.

  We’d arrived at the dressing room and Kyle seemed more relaxed. With all the noise and edginess downstairs, the second floor was quiet and peaceful.

  “T-thanks, Marco.” Kyle held my jacket around his waist and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. “Thanks for getting me outta there.”

  “Go ahead and get dressed. Then tell me all the details. We’ll put a stop to this.”

  “I’ll tell you,” Kyle said as we pushed open the dressing room door. “But you won’t like it, and you won’t be able to do much.”

  The bright dressing room lights made me squint until I adjusted. Some of the dancers sat staring into lightbulb-lined mirrors primping. Some stood at full-length mirrors inspecting themselves for blemishes or a few extra micro ounces of fat. All of them were beautiful. None of them was secure about it. I felt a pang of responsibility for all of them.

  Heads turned to see who entered the room. Eyes went wide when they saw Kyle, bare to the bone, handing my jacket back to me.

  “Can’t get enough tips with your g-string on, Kyle?” Dane quipped, then turned back to flexing in the mirror.

  From the back of the room, Caleb rushed over to us.

  “Oh no, Kyle. Not again.” Caleb looked Kyle up and down as if checking him for wounds. At nineteen, Caleb was one of my youngest dancers. Kyle brought him in one rainy night, Caleb looking like a drowned cat. A very cute, very sexy drowned cat. We all fell for him, especially Anton, who has a soft spot for strays. Caleb quickly became Kyle’s “project.” He trained Caleb and taught him routines with Anton’s help. They bought him thongs, g-strings, costumes, and whatever else he needed. But it was Kyle who really took Caleb under his wing.

  They were tight, but they weren’t a couple. Kyle was more like the kid’s mother hen. He’d told me once that Caleb was on the run from an abusive situation. Kyle wasn’t generous with information about Caleb.

  “This time he got my g-string and took off, the bastard.”

  “Do you remember what he looked like, Kyle? Could it have been—”

  “No. He was tall, dark haired, dressed really well, and looked like he was comfortable in a gay bar.” Kyle said.

  “You sure?” Caleb was frightened, but it wasn’t all for Kyle. I could see that.

  “I’m sure, Caleb,” Kyle said, as if there was to be no more discussion.

  “C’mon, Kyle, let me take you home. I’m through for the night, and you need to get some rest.” Caleb looked at him with a mixture of concern and adoration.

  Kyle gently moved from my arms, turned to look at me gratefully with those amber eyes of his, then put his arm around Caleb’s shoulders. Together, they moved toward the lockers. Kyle’s usually upbeat personality was flawed by something taut and bitter at his center, something he never talked about with anyone. That quality gave him an air of mystery, but it also made him difficult to know.

  As I turned to leave the dressing room, Anton barged in, nostrils flaring, crystal blue eyes gleaming with anger. Wearing a tank top, Anton’s tension showed in his muscled arms. Sleek and like a puma ready to spring, Anton gazed around the room, taking in everything and everyone.

  “What happened down there? I stepped out for five minutes to get some air. I come back and there’s chaos. Everyone’s babbling, and I can’t get a straight answer from anybody. Did one of our guys get hurt? Did someone grab a dancer’s…?”

  “Don’t worry, Anton,” Dane said. “Marco took care of things.”

  “Don’t he always?” A deep voice from the back of the room rumbled.

  “We’ve got things under control, Anton. Nobody’s—”

  “Who was it? Is he hurt?” Anton peered around searching for the injured dancer. “Why didn’t anyone come and get me?”

  “It was like a lightning strike. All I could think about was getting Kyle out of there quick.”

  “He okay now?” Anton said, beginning to relax. The look in his eyes softened.

  I put my arm around his shoulders, feeling the heat rising off his body and the tension still zinging through his muscles.

  “Some guy pulled off Kyle’s g-string. He’s shaken, but he’s okay,” I said. “And before you ask, I’ll be telling Stan to hire more bouncers.”

  “How about if I train our guys to kick pervs in the teeth when they get out of hand. That’ll get their attention.” Anton faced me, and I saw he was serious.

  Anton was the first dancer I hired when I started StripGuyz. After a while he began assisting with scheduling and hiring. He was good, and I relied on him more and more. Tall, lightly muscular, with dusky blond hair and blue eyes, Anton was imposing and he knew it. The scar that transected his left eyebrow was sexy. It added to his sultry good looks and was a testament to his Czech-Hungarian temper. Despite that, Anton could be kind and gentle, especially with the guys in the troupe. He was also a hopeless romantic, which was a source of tension for us.

  He and I had an undeniable mutual attraction but Anton refused to settle for anything less than total commitment, monogamy, and everything that went with it. That explained his no hanky-panky policy. He was not about to give away the milk unless I bought the cow. I wasn’t ready to settle down on the farm just yet.

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing a creep like that get what’s coming to him. But as satisfying as kicking him in the teeth might be, it won’t help business. Not for Bubbles and not for StripGuyz.”

  The telephone rang and heads snapped in its direction. It wasn’t often that the dressing room received calls. Dane picked up the receiver, said hello and listened.

  “It’s for you, Kyle.” Dane held the phone languidly, his pouty pink lips forming a little rosebud as he waited.

  “Don’t answer it,” Caleb said, gently pulling Kyle back.

  Kyle shook his head, reluctantly moved toward Dane, and took the receiver.

  “He—hello?” His voice shook. As he listened, his expression morphed from perplexed to frightened to angry.

  “Fuck off, and don’t call again!” Kyle slammed down the receiver so hard it cracked.

  “Kyle? Wh—who was that?” Caleb asked.

  “Nothing. Just some creep.” He pulled on his shirt and smoothed out the wrinkles.

  “Don’t you think we ought to talk about this?” I said as he shut his locker and slipped one arm into the strap of his back pack. He remained silent for a long while. I sensed a huge struggle going on inside him as he desperately tried to contain the emotions he must’ve been feeling.

  I placed a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed. “Whatever it is, Kyle, I’m here for you. Anton’s here, too. We can figure this out. You don’t have to go it alone.”

  He said nothing but leaned into me as if he wanted to let go and let someone else take charge. He felt like a tightly wound spring ready to uncoil.

  Before I could say more, Caleb stepped up. “C’mon, Kyle, let’s get you home so you can relax.” Caleb gently pulled him away from me.

  Kyle took a deep breath and looked me in the face. His eyes were glassy and filled with a sadness, the source of which I could only guess at. Kyle turned toward Caleb and a weak smile played across his lips. He slipped an arm around the younger dancer, and they moved out the door, clinging to one another like orphans.

  After that night, Kyle reported that he’d been bothered a few more time
s, but only by telephone both at work and at home. He eventually told me about his problems with what was left of his family. Their parents having been killed in a yachting accident, Kyle, his brother, and a cousin had all been taken in by their paternal grandfather. Life was easy and pleasant for a while. Kyle’s father’s family was wealthy, but his mother was from old money and plenty of it. She left it in trust for her children to be shared by them when Kyle turned thirty. The paternal grandfather had a huge bundle of his own, most of which he’d placed in trust for Kyle’s cousin, as he’d had no other family money. The three kids were his only living relatives.

  That was the good part. But there was a darker side to Kyle’s family situation, and it had to do with his personal life.

  The grandfather and relatives on his mother’s side objected when Kyle came out, wanting to live his own life. Even Kyle admitted that he could be headstrong and provocative and that sometimes he lashed out. But never without justification, according to the way he saw things. Stung by his family’s reaction to his personal life, Kyle, secure in the knowledge that he would be financially independent once he turned thirty, decided to do whatever would upset his family most in order to get even with them for rejecting him. Coming across an ad for StripGuyz, Kyle decided that becoming a stripper was the perfect way to embarrass his family.

  Ten months after he started dancing for StripGuyz, things began to blow up in his face. He felt it was his family, though he admitted they’d never physically attacked him before. Still, he said he knew how angry they were, and he also knew they wouldn’t be satisfied until he submitted. Family dynamics are a funny thing at the best of times. Throw some money into the mix and all hell breaks loose.

  ***

  A few days after the latest incident, I was posting dancer schedules on the board in the dressing room at Bubbles when Anton shouldered through the door supporting Kyle, who looked disheveled and shaken. Kyle was bleeding from his nose. His upper lip was cut and bleeding as well. His clothes were ripped, torn, and smudged with dirt.