“Really, Fontana. I don’t need the aggravation.” He swiped at a fly buzzing his head. “Can’t you tell me whatever it is, without coming in?”
“What have you got to hide, Fitz?” I smiled. “I’m getting closer to who killed Wade, but I need to clear up a few details first.”
“Then why bother me? Why not call the—” He was interrupted by a loud crash inside his house. A muffled voice shouted expletives somewhere inside.
I stared at Fitz but said nothing.
Fitzpatrick rolled his eyes, waved me in, and shut the door behind me. He wasn’t in a hurry, which meant he wasn’t surprised by whatever it was going on inside. He was obviously annoyed, though, that I’d heard it and had to let me in.
We walked through a generous foyer hung with a few beautiful small landscapes. Then he marched me down a hall lined with abstract paintings and into a dining room. Carefully placed antiques littered the room and surrounding halls and gave the impression that this was a neatly organized warehouse rather than a home. Fitz was a collector, but this bordered on hoarding.
In the dining room was another antiques treasure trove. A large breakfront, weighed down with expensive-looking plates and silver objects, stood against one wall, and in front of it was a sizeable dining table. I realized that someone was getting up, with some difficulty, from the floor between the table and the breakfront.
Fitzpatrick didn’t seem at all concerned. And why should he be? Standing on the other side of the table, sheepish look on his face, was Howie Sider, the florist.
“Sorry, Fitz. I was trying to move things so I could get to the silver coffee pot. A vase and two platters fell. I’m afraid they’re beyond repair.” Behind him, another piece clattered to the floor and shattered as he spoke. He winced and looked insincerely apologetic. “Sorry.”
Fitz’s face turned a dark scarlet. “Howie, you’re an ass.”
The broken things must’ve been worth a fortune. Now all he had was shards.
“Now, now, Fitz. Not another word. It’s the price we pay sometimes.” Howie looked at us as if he’d just dropped an inexpensive dinner plate. “I’ll just take my pot and be on my way.” He turned and took in the room with greedy eyes. The table, the breakfront, another tall cabinet packed with antique silver, crystal, and plenty more scattered around the room. “You have so many lovely things.” He sighed and made as if to leave.
“Stick around, Howie. Since you’re both here, maybe I can sew up a few loose ends.” I had to wonder what was going on. The two of them had never been good friends, and Fitz was not known for parting with items from his precious collection. He’d certainly never give them away. I’d stumbled into something, and I had a feeling it had to do with the murder.
“I really don’t have the ti—” Howie hissed.
“C’mon, Howie. As a favor to Ben? I’m sure he’d be grateful. I know how much he thinks of you. And even you, Fitz.” I needled.
Howie’s face tightened with the realization I knew something.
“All right, but don’t waste time, Marco. I’ve got a business to run.”
“Why don’t we move to the living room?” Ever the gracious host, Fitz’s voice was thick with anger, maybe even worry. He herded us down the hall and into a room on the right. The walls were a rich green with cream trim. The room was elegant in its simplicity. There were fewer antiques here, probably because he entertained larger groups in this room and didn’t want anything broken or stolen.
He sat in a salmon-colored club chair and with a nod indicated chairs for us. Howie made himself at home on a love seat. I chose to stand.
“Ben’s out of jail, I guess you both know that? But they’ve still got him in their sights. So, I need to make sure he’s completely home free. That his alibi checks out and there’s nothing I’ve missed.”
“It’s ridiculous to think I can help.” Fitz said.
“And I’ve already told you everything.” Howie was indignant.
“You two can help more than you know.” I smirked. “There’s something you said about the night before the competition, Fitz. I’ll need more on that. And Howie, you haven’t told me everything. Have you?”
“Well, I certainly told you who and what I saw that night.” Fitz sounded frustrated. “I was there. I admit that, but all I did was look around. Then I left. I didn’t touch anything, rig anything, or cut any ropes.” His steel gray eyes were trained on me and he was resolute.
“Okay, let’s assume that’s the truth. The question is, why were you there? Being a judge, there’d be some ethical problems with you hanging around backstage with contestants. It’s not like this is the big time, but there was lots of money involved.”
“I—I wasn’t thinking. I was curious about the process, and I wanted a peek behind the scenes. And at the guys. Can you blame me?”
I stared at him. He wasn’t a great liar. He tried hard but I could tell.
“Behind the scenes? You were a judge, for fuck’s sake. Wasn’t that behind the scenes enough?”
“I know it’s—it doesn’t look good. Ethically, I mean. But I didn’t break any laws.”
“Murder-wise it doesn’t look too good. You were there, you snooped around, you could have tampered with the rigging.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Marco. Neither Fitz nor I had anything to do with this—this mess. Why would we?” Howie fussed.
“And what reason would I have to commit murder?” Fitz took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his long fingers.
“Well, how about your relationship with Wade? That kinda complicates things, doesn’t it, Fitz?” I noticed Howie’s expression stiffen when I said this to Fitz.
“We didn’t have a relationship.” Fitz nervously fingered a newspaper tucked into the side of his club chair. “We had dinner a few times.”
“But you knew him. You dated him. You were backstage looking for him, the night before the competition.” I glanced at Howie, who looked angrier by the second. “And you were seen together, Fitz. Multiple times.” That was my final shot, and he took the hit with no visible reaction. I suppose that’s the politician in him. Never let them see that they’ve gotten to you. Never appear weak. But he had to know there was more to come.
He exhaled and it was a long, weary sound. I could see him weighing every possible word he might use. He had to make sure that what came next would be controlled.
“It wasn’t me. Who killed him, I mean. If you want to know the truth, I loved him. I wanted him to be free of the trap he’d made for himself by pretending to be straight.” Fitz paused, placed a hand over his eyes, then took a deep breath. “And he was ready to do that. He was ready to come out. He’d have done it that night, had he won. And I would have been happy. We might even have had a chance together.”
“This is your problem, Fitz: you feel too much. Too deeply.” Howie spoke as if from on high causing Fitz to turn that angry scarlet shade again.
“Some people do. Lots of people have human feelings, Howie,” I said, then turned to Fitz. “When did you realize Wade was gay?”
“He wandered into my office in City Hall one day, pretending to be lost. I fell for him then and there. Invited him to dinner. Invited him to a lot of dinners. We spent more and more time together, talking about his life, what he wanted, what he dreamt about, who he admired, movies, music, anything and everything. Little by little he became comfortable with himself, sure of himself, even happy with himself. He was settled with the idea that he was gay. At least I thought so. But he needed to tell people close to him, and that was going to be difficult.”
“You keep falling for the same thing over and over again, Fitz. When will you learn?” Howie seemed bored with everything.
“Still neither of you has explained—” I began.
A furious pounding on a door somewhere at the back of the house interrupted me.
Howie’s eyes went wide.
Fitz, startled, turned toward the sound so fast I though
t he’d snap his neck.
I came to instant alert and reached for the gun in my shoulder holster.
Fitzpatrick jumped up and hurried toward the kitchen. Howie hugged the antique silver coffee pot close to his chest and stayed seated.
The pounding continued, louder, angrier.
I followed Fitz, but he turned and shot me a look.
“I’ll take care of it.” He straightened his back trying to reclaim some dignity.
Keeping discreetly back, I continued to follow. I hadn’t gotten far when I heard glass breaking and someone shouting. It was Michael. I recognized the voice.
“If you said anything, I’ll kill you!” Michael bellowed.
I arrived just as he was about to take a swing at Fitzpatrick. When Michael saw me, he pulled back and didn’t connect with Fitzpatrick’s face. Michael stood there, fists clenched, eyes wide with anger. His chest heaved with the effort to keep himself in check.
“What is it you want him to be quiet about, Mike?” I heard a noise behind me but didn’t take my eyes off Michael. Howie crept into view, hugging the wall.
“You’re here!” Michael yelped when he saw Howie.
“Keep him away from me!” Howie screeched and dashed back to the living room.
Michael sneered. “I knew I was right! Now you’ll see, Fontana.”
“See what?” I said. “Take it easy, and tell me what you’re thinking.”
“The police suspect me now,” Michael shouted. “They as much as told me so. But I didn’t do anything. I could never hurt Wade. It was these two. I saw them that night.” Michael was a jumble of power and sadness and internal conflict.
“You also said you saw them leave, which means that you were there after they’d gone. Right?”
“I was wrong. I—I didn’t see them leave. But I did see them.” Michael slowly regained his composure.
“Let’s sit down and sort this out. That okay with you, Mike?”
He nodded but didn’t move.
“All right if we use the living room?” I asked. Fitz nodded glumly.
I stood aside, so the entrance to the hall was clear. “Shall we?”
Michael moved first, followed by Fitz.
When we got there, Howie cowered in his stuffed chair, looking terrified and clutching the silver coffee pot. Fitz resumed his chair, and Michael stood by the window. I blocked the exit.
“Tell us what you saw that night, Mike.” I looked at Howie and Fitz when I said this, but there was no reaction.
“I saw them two. This one, the glasses, he was there fooling around with Wade. They left together and then—”
“Liar!” Howie came to life and pointed at Fitz. “You’re a liar, Fitz. You said you hadn’t seen Wade that night.”
Fitz remained calm. “I didn’t—”
“You were there, man. I saw you. Had your hands all over Wade. I saw that, too. You left together. You had your arm around his shoulders. Then you came back in without Wade and this creep was there, too.” Michael pointed at Howie.
“You lied to me, Fitz.” Howie shouted. “You lied and you asked me—”
“I never lied to anyone.” He said in time to keep Howie from speaking further. “I told you the truth. You’re going to believe this pumped up dimwit over me?”
“Now I understand.” Howie half stood then sat back. “Wade was supposed to see me that night but he begged off. Said he had to rehearse. That’s why I went back. I didn’t believe him. I was right, he wasn’t there rehearsing. What I didn’t suspect was that he was with you. I thought he’d ditched me for somebody hot and young.”
“He wasn’t with me.” Fitz insisted.
“You and Wade walked out together, man. You kissed him, you had your fucking hand down his pants. I saw it. It was disgusting. I never liked you. I told Wade not to trust you.” Michael sounded frustrated.
“Apparently,” Fitz regained his composure and arrogance. “Wade listened to you all too well. He didn’t trust me, and he hedged his bets. He slept with all the judges, the little bastard. My vote wasn’t enough. He just had to take himself around to every male judge. He guaranteed their vote, no matter what he had to do.”
“You made him doubt himself. You!” Michael shouted.
“No. I tried to help him. But he never believed in himself. He was never confident that his routine would make the difference. He had to make certain the judges would vote for him, whatever way he could get them to do that. That’s what he told me when he ditched me that night. At least he had confidence in his ability to fuck his way to the title.”
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Back up. I’m not through with this point,” Howie snapped. “You never told me he was with you that night.” Still stuck on that, Howie grew angrier by the second. “You said you’d had enough of him. You said you didn’t want to have anything to do with the little whore. That’s what you called him, a little whore.”
“Wade wasn’t no whore.” Michael’s voice choked. “Wade was—”
“Hold it!” I said. “Let’s get some facts straight.” I turned to Fitzpatrick. “You were there later than you first admitted. True?”
“I…” He hesitated and Michael made a menacing move in his direction. “Yes, yes I went back. I’d left something backstage.”
“Sure you did. And you saw him, Mike? Am I right?”
“Right. Then I saw this guy come in.” He nodded in Howie’s direction. “He finds that one,” Michael pointed at Fitz, “and they start arguing. They were right near Wade’s rigging. Throwin’ their arms around, stabbin’ their fingers at one another. Like little kids.”
“So you lied about being there later on in the evening, Howie.” I said.
“I? Why would I have…” He looked at Fitz, then at Michael, then his gaze came to rest on me. “All right. I was there, Fontana, you little nosy body. I was there because, Fitz, the miserable creep, called me and told me to meet him there.”
“Not true.” Fitz stood and looked ill.
“It’s true. I saw them,” Michale said, a self-satisfied smile etched on his face.
“You told me earlier that you saw them arguing, right, Mike? You told me you looked down and saw them arguing. Is that right?” I wanted to make sure he agreed to what he’d said. I remembered it word for word, because when I’d heard it, it struck me as significant.
“Yeah, I looked down and saw ‘em.” Michael folded his arms across his chest.
“So, you must’ve been up in the rigging looking down. Am I right? Where else could you be high up enough to see but not be seen?”
“Naw, that’s not true. I mean, Wade would’a killed me if I went near his stuff. He didn’t want nobody to go near it. I saw these two hanging around the rigging. Then they started to argue.” Michael’s demeanor changed. “I left and went out to tell Wade. So he could… But I—I never found him. When I came back and tried to get into the bar, it was shut tight. I banged on the door but it was shut. I went home. Tried to call Wade, but he never answered.”
“Because the little whore was sleeping with some other judge.” Fitz spat out the words. “How could he just hop from bed to bed? In the same night. The slut. And I was duped right from the start. I fell for his innocent act. I fell for it and I thought—”
“He was innocent, you fuckin’ creep. Until you got your hands on him. We were friends until he started listenin’ to you. Then he just used me. He didn’t care about anybody anymore.”
I looked at Michael, and he couldn’t meet my eyes, choosing instead to stare at the floor.
“Michael, when you forced your way in here, you said you’d kill Fitz if he ‘said anything.’ What did you mean?” I kept my voice calm. I knew I was pushing him.
“What’s it sound like I meant?”
“Sounds like you want to keep him quiet.” I looked at him and he squirmed.
“So what if I do?” He squirmed when I looked at him.
“Why? Did you and Wade have something to hide?”
&
nbsp; “Nothing. We had nothin’ to hide. We were friends until Glasses here came along and started turnin’ him against me.”
“You told me Wade was always getting in your face about gay things, gay people,” I said.
“I didn’t care about that.” He glowered at me.
“Maybe when Wade told you he was gay? Did that bother you? Maybe there was something between you? And you’d never wanted to put a word to it before that.”
I could feel Fitz and Howie relax as Michael twisted on the skewer. How easy it was for them to watch this poor kid crumble. But I wasn’t through with them yet.
“What the fuck are you sayin’? That I’m queer like Wade? Like you and these fuckin’ wimps? You fags are all alike. You and these two and Wade and all the rest. You want everybody to be gay. You hope everybody is just as queer as you are. Why?”
“I accept what people tell me.” I stared into his eyes. “You say you’re straight and that’s what I think. What you say is what you are in my book.”
Michael nodded. “Once Wade started goin’ out with Glasses, he was never the same. We were friends. We had a good time together. After he started seein’ that piece of shit, Wade wanted to call what we did something else. And that wasn’t true. We didn’t do what he said. We weren’t gay. This creep turned him against me. Wanted him to be public and make out like what we did was something it wasn’t.” Michael wavered, fading like a bad dream.
I felt for the kid, but I went on. “That was it, right, Michael? Wade knew things about the two of you that you didn’t want him to tell anyone. The night he died, he said he hoped you weren’t angry. Angry about what? About his being gay and you being right there with him? Am I right?”
“We were kids together. We knew each other since we were little. You know how kids are.”
“Been a while since I was one,” I said. Not all that long a while, but in some ways it’d been a long time. Innocence is a funny thing.
“Kids fool around. They like to fool around. Like it’s an adventure, y’know?”
“You and Wade fooled around?”
“We were kids. I was horny all the time. It didn’t mean anything.”
Crimes on Latimer: From the Early Cases of Marco Fontana Page 37
