“Slow it down. Maybe I can see the license plate.” I knew it was hopeless without more expert equipment and some time, but it was worth a shot.
As Luke ran the video in slow motion, the doorbell rang and my cell phone started ringing at the same time.
Canny went to answer the door and brought Sarge into the video room. I nodded a hello as I flipped open my cell phone. “Fontana.”
“Got a pencil, hot shot?” The same crude voice from earlier barked out the question.
“Gimmie the instructions. I’m ready.”
“That fag fest still goin’ on?”
“The Festival in the Village? Far as I know it’s scheduled to go on for hours.” I answered.
“Good. We’ll meet on West End and Christopher. Don’t take anybody with you. Come alone, understand? Don’t try to fuck with us. Your pretty-boy friend here will be waiting for you but he won’t be alone. Got that?”
“Right.”
“Make any moves when you see him and he’s dead. You won’t see us but we’ll be there. Somebody will have a gun on your boy, so don’t play the hero.” He paused.
“Okay, then what?”
“Put the memory cards in a plastic bag. Clear plastic. Hand them to your boy and walk away.”
“What about Anton? How do—”
“Just stay put and have your cell phone with you, big shot. Somebody’s gonna run the video. If it’s what we want, we’ll call you. Then you and your friend can go home and play hide the sausage. Play us and you can watch the pretty-boy take a bullet. Clear?”
“When do you want me there?”
“One hour. If you’re late, he’s dead. You try to fuck us over, he’s dead. Make a wrong move, and—”
“I’ll be there.” I ended the call. My mind raced with possibilities. I had an idea, the beginning of a plan, but I’d need help.
Sarge looked at me, his pudgy Italian face gave him a younger appearance than the forty-some years he carried.
“It was them, right?” He asked, shifting his feet. “What do they want you to do?”
I explained as briefly as I could so I could describe my idea to Luke in private. I didn’t want anyone else knowing right then. Luke would know what to do.
“That’s all I get?” Sarge asked. “You’re holdin’ out on me, Marco. I remember how you operate.”
“Sarge, if you recognize anybody on the video, you’ll know a lot more than I do right now.”
“You’re still a bullshitter, too, Fontana. Give me a rundown and I’ll get started.” He wasn’t happy but I didn’t give him much choice.
We talked a while and I explained what he might look for on the video.
“You’re the expert, Sarge. I’m depending on you.”
“Gotcha,” he said. “Any faces look familiar, I’ll call it in and they’ll pick the bastards up.”
“If they can find them.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “I gotta get ready for the meet.”
“You gonna be all right alone? You gotta know I don’t like this, Marco.”
“I’ll be fine and I’m not planning on being alone, Sarge. Don’t worry about me. Just take a close look at that video. Canny can help you with it.”
Sarge walked away shaking his head, probably assuming I’d get my tail blown off. I signaled Luke and we moved into the hall to talk. He’d placed the memory cards into a clear plastic bag as the kidnappers had ordered and handed it to me.
“What’s the plan, Marco? I know you have one.” Luke said.
I told him that I figured the Dragettes and others would be more than willing to help rescue Anton and uncover Marsha’s murderers. So, I asked Luke to call Hedda and explain what I needed. I wanted as many drag queens as possible to pack the festival site and mill around. Who would notice a few too many drag queens on Pride Day? Then, at the appropriate time they’d get a signal to flood the kidnapper’s meeting point with drag queens. They’d create the diversion I’d need to get Anton out safely. It was a plan that could work. I hoped.
***
What with traffic detours and crowds jamming the streets, the cabbie couldn’t get me too near to the site. He dropped me as close as he could and I continued on foot. The sheer number of people made it slow going. But the slow walk gave me time to scope out the area and the people. I had no doubt that one or more of the kidnappers would be on the ground watching for me.
Knowing Luke would get my plan rolling, all I had to do was keep my eyes peeled and get to the meeting point.
The sun, low in the sky, loomed over the buildings in the Village. The kidnappers probably thought they’d have an easy time getting away, using the crush of people to mask their escape. They had no idea what was coming their way, with Hedda leading the charge.
I never underestimate the intelligence of people like the kidnappers, if they’re smart enough to get this far, they’re smart enough to have figured most of the angles. Including the fact that lots of people would be taking pictures. They must have judged it a small risk and one worth taking.
But Anton and his camera were a complication they obviously hadn’t considered. He was no ordinary tourist with a camera. He was there with a purpose, to make a special video for Marsha. It’s something they’d never imagined. Anton had focused on Marsha and the Dragettes more than anything else on the parade route. So much so that he’d caught some of the kidnappers on video. Especially the one who’d threatened Anton. He had a real close-up moment. That mistake would be potentially dangerous for them. It figured they were desperate to get the video and cover their tracks. Their desperation was something I was counting on.
I kept moving, difficult as it was to maneuver through the mobs. Hundreds of people swirled through the Pride Festival, blocking any speedy movement as they stopped at booths to eat or pick through trinkets. Ribbons of smoke filled the air from barbeque stands, while other vendors hawked kabobs, and drinks, and more. I had to slip sideways, tread on toes, and generally shove my way through knots of people gathered at stands.
Reaching the meeting point with time to spare, I studied the crowd. Every face looked sinister. The sweet young things, the twinks, the drag queens, the bears, the leather daddies and their boys. Any one of them could be in on this, any one of them could be a lookout or the bag man. Somewhere, hidden from sight, was a sniper who would take one of us out with a bullet if he had to. That much had been implied by the thug on the telephone.
It was as if I were seeing people for the first time. I’d been to scores of similar festivals, but I’d always trusted the faces I’d seen. I’d found comfort and solidarity in those faces. Pride gatherings felt like huge family reunions where you knew everyone was a friend and no one was out to get you.
Not this time.
I surveyed everything, memorized the landscape, readied myself for anything. But I felt I needed more. When I’d scoured the location for the fifth time, it was still early for the meet. I felt edgy and all my senses were on high alert.
Waiting calmly was not an option. Instead, I plunged into the crowd and searched faces, listened for voices, read expressions.
The smoky fragrance of charred meat offered by vendors made my stomach growl with an angry hunger. I ignored the pangs and moved on. Scouring the area for faces I’d seen on the video, I came to a booth filled with rainbow items. It was as good a place as any to stop and take my bearings before I turned around and made my way back to the meeting point.
I feigned interest in items on the table and as I returned a figurine to its place, someone bumped into my back. Hard. I tried turning around but whoever it was wouldn’t let me.
Instead, I felt the barrel of a gun nudge my spine. Out of the corner of my eye I saw frilly day-glo orange material and the hint of a hairy arm. A sickly sweet fragrance wound its way into my nostrils.
“Hey…” I growled, but he jabbed me sharply with the gun.
“Shut up and make like nothing’s wrong.” The voice was familiar.
He dug the gun into my back. I tried e
lbowing his ribs, figuring he wouldn’t really shoot in this crowd. He didn’t budge. My elbow hit the muscled wall of his stomach and didn’t faze him.
“What do you want?” I said without sounding ruffled.
“Turn around. Slow. And show how much you like me, doll.”
I turned around as slowly as I could, realizing why the voice was familiar. I almost smiled when I saw Hedda standing there, one hand under the folds of her dress obviously holding the gun. She grinned, big red lips, large blue eyes with that awful green eyeshadow under thick arched eyebrows.
“So, it’s you, babe. This morning you danced your way down Fifth Avenue, now you’re somebody’s gun moll. That role doesn’t fit you, Hedda. Besides, you wouldn’t shoot me in this crowd now, would you?”
“Don’t be too sure, doll. I’d hate to ruin that face of yours or kill you or anything. But I gotta do what I gotta do. You understand, don’t you sweet pea?” She sighed dramatically, never taking her eyes off me.
“Whaddaya want me to do?” This was surreal. Hedda had been in on this all along and I’d never guessed? She was a better actress than I’d given her credit for. But why? I tried guessing what her motive for hurting Marsha might be but nothing pretty came to mind. Jealousy? Money? Love? I had no idea what deep motives raged under the surface between Marsha and Hedda. There’d never been any indication they were rivals. There could have been something pitting them against one another. But Hedda a killer? That didn’t compute.
“Now we go and see somebody about something. That clear enough for you, sugar plum?”
“Clear as mud, babe. Lead on. I’ll follow.”
Hedda started to turn, then caught herself and did a double take. “You think you’re as smart as you are cute, don’t you?”
“Uh, I hadda try, right?”
“Well I’m smarter than that, doll. You’re the man, you take the lead. Now just get in front of Mama and I’ll funnel directions to you while I watch that cute ass of yours. ”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” I shrugged and marched ahead of her.
Before long, a couple of other drag queens, both with baby carriages which I’d seen on the Gay Parents float, fell in on either side of us.
“About time, girls. I thought I’d have to take this walk with him alone.”
“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?” said the one made up like Marilyn Monroe in Andy Warhol colors, as she looked me up and down.
“Control yourself. We’ve got a job to do.” Hedda was no nonsense, despite her clownish appearance. She walked close behind me and said, “Okay, turn right and at the next corner left.”
After several more blocks and a few more turns, we were in a district I didn’t recognize. Rotting warehouse walls, abandoned factories that were home to rats, mice, fleas and who knows what else. The odor floating in the air was unpleasant. One of the “girls” walking a baby carriage, screamed when a fat, fearless rat scampered across her feet. The carriage the drag queen had been holding, went flying off ahead of us as she continued to scream.
“How come you didn’t blindfold me, Hedda? I mean, don’t you think I’m going to report this?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t think you’ll be able to do that, doll.” She stuck the gun into my back for emphasis. “Pity. What a waste. I’m sorry.” She sounded truly upset but I knew Hedda was a tough cookie.
“Ok, Hedda. But promise me one thing. Before you… you know.”
“What’s that, gorgeous?”
“Don’t do anything kinky with me after you kill me. I’d like to think you’ll treat my body with respect.”
“Eww, yuk. Gaaa. You’re disgusting, Fontana. I thought you were as wholesome as you look, but you’re disgusting. Ewww. With a dead body? Nobody’s that cute.” Her big red lips twisted into tortured poses. Gagging sounds filled the air, her tongue darted in and out, and her eyes pressed shut against the mental images of necrophiliac activities. I almost laughed but remembered the gun under all that drama.
I tried moving off course but one of the others pushed me back in place. “Stay put or you’ll learn about what we’ll do with your body before it becomes just a body.” This drag queen was the toughest of all of them and the prettiest. Delicate features and neatly applied make-up gave this one an innocent, sweet appearance. The soft pink dress and smooth moves spoke of elegance, but his gruff voice rumbled and his mean eyes glared with an anger that chilled me.
After a while, and after passing a lot more abandoned buildings, Hedda stopped and yanked me back.
“This is it.” She nudged my back with the gun barrel.
“This?” I looked at what was probably the most decrepit of the buildings we’d seen. The door was rotting off its hinges. A brick fell out of the wall while we stared, as if the building wanted us to see just how bad things were. It seemed more like a tomb than a building. No movement, no sound, no rats scurrying. It’s bad when even the vermin abandon a place.
“Get in,” Hedda pushed at the rotting door and it fell off its hinges at her touch. A cloud of foul-smelling dust and grime shot up as the door hit the ground.
I looked back at her and balked.
“Get in, doll, or I’ll make you dance your way in.” She pulled the gun and pointed it at my feet while cocking it at the same time.
I stepped carefully into the entryway. If the door was this rotted, could the floor be safe? Amazingly it held my weight.
“Don’t worry, dollface. We wouldn’t want you to fall through the floor and get eaten by whatever lives in the basement. You’ll be safe enough. Just get in there.”
“You’re not coming?” I asked and winked.
“Right behind you, sweet cheeks. Now move!”
As I moved farther into the building, the faint outside light was swallowed by the dark. Then I heard faint voices and saw a weak glimmer of light in the distance. This once mammoth warehouse was now a rotting corpse of a building filled with scaffolding and metal stairs to nowhere. It felt dank and ominous.
I stumbled as I walked. It was too dark to see ahead without losing my footing. I slowed down and began to inch forward, Hedda still behind me. I assumed the other two were behind her. There was no escaping this.
The small voices became more distinct as we moved, and a floating dot of light appeared in the distant darkness.
“We’re here!” Hedda shouted, her voice booming through the vast emptiness. She continued to encourage me forward with the barrel of the gun, and I kept moving. Up ahead, a figure walked toward us. He was backlit and just a silhouette.
When he got close I saw a face which I thought I knew but couldn’t make out in the dimness. He took his place by my side and walked along with us. When we got closer to the light, I saw him clearly. He was one of the guys on the video. One of Marsha’s killers.
“You’re one of them,” I said.
“Yeah, so, what’s got your underwear in a knot? I’m one of them and if anybody doesn’t like it they can take a flying—”
“Be a good girl and walk the man to the office.” Hedda interrupted him. “Besides, I don’t think he meant it the way you took it, Clarice. You’re too defensive to be a good drag, honey. Loosen up.”
“Yeah, well, everybody’s always raggin’ on me about this. I wanna dress the way I want. So what if I don’t look so good? I feel good.”
I felt as if I’d been dropped into an insane asylum. I looked from face to face trying to guess what they had in mind, but it was no use.
“It’s not all about you tonight, Clarice. Take Fontana in and shut the door. He wants to be alone with this delicious hunk.”
“Do I get the courtesy of a heads up? I mean, who’s in there?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” the new guy said.
“Take a deep breath and head on in, doll.”
The killer opened the door, shoved me in, and slammed it shut. The light was bright and after all the darkness it took me a minute to focus. I peered at the guy sitting a
t the desk across from me. Dressed in a dark suit, with a red tie, and a matching pocket handkerchief, he stared at me but I was still partly blinded by the light. He looked familiar and not familiar at the same time. There was something disconcerting about him. Then he stood up and walked with heightened dignity around to the front of the desk. Even in that suit, it was a walk I recognized. Then I knew.
“Marsha. Or, should I say, Ray? Ray Stone.” Stone was Marsha’s actual identity. He’d grown up in New Hope and then Philly and eventually became everyone’s favorite drag queen, Marsha. His ideas grew bigger than the city he lived in, so he moved to New York to pursue the dream. Now it looked like he was just Ray Stone again.
“Surprise,” he said flatly and without enthusiasm. He glanced at his long nails which were painted a glistening white, then flicked some lint off his jacket. “You were probably expecting some macho thug who wanted to tear your balls off and serve them for a snack to his boys before he even introduced himself. Or, maybe you were expecting Anton to be sitting here bleeding and vulnerable, so you could save him and be the hero.”
“I wasn’t expecting you. You’re dead.” I was halfway glad and halfway mad.
“Funny thing about death, Fontana. It isn’t necessarily the end, is it? I didn’t want to be dead so that’s why I hadda die. Gabish?”
“Not much at all,” I said. “You’re dead, but you’re not. What about Anton? Is he all—”
“The boy is fine. I’d never hurt him, never. He’s too special to me. I love that boy.” Ray sighed deeply. “He’s changed a lot since I left Philly. Bigger, more muscles, more confidence. He knocked two of my biggest guys off their feet. I hadn’t realized just how hunky he’d become since I last saw him. That boy’s a terror. Hot but dangerous, if you get on his wrong side.” Ray smiled in spite of himself. I think he was proud of Anton. “Once they got him tied down, literally, I mean, he couldn’t do much but cooperate.”
“He didn’t see you? Talk to you? Didn’t he wonder what this was all about?” I asked.
“He doesn’t know about me and he never will. You’re the only one outside my very small circle that knows. Even Barkley can’t know.” Ray stared at me, there was still lots of Marsha in his movements and his voice.
Crimes on Latimer: From the Early Cases of Marco Fontana Page 30
