“It did to Wade, though, didn’t it? And it didn’t stop when you got older, did it? You weren’t little kids anymore, but you were still havin’ an adventure.”
The muscular boy-man hung his head and didn’t meet my stare. “We was friends. That’s all. Just friends.”
“Why’d you stay with him? Especially after he decided he was gay.”
His head snapped up and the look of desperation on his face was more intense than anything I’d seen in a long time. “Why do you think, smart guy? I hadda be his friend and do what he wanted or he would’a told people about us.”
“Blackmail? So, this is why you got rid of him?” Fitzpatrick said.
“I never touched him. I’d never hurt him. Not like what you did. Scumbag. That’s what you are. You took Wade and made him dirty. He was my friend and you made him—”
“I didn’t do anything he didn’t want done. And don’t kid yourself about that. Wade was not the young innocent kid you liked to think he was.”
Michael moved menacingly and Fitz flinched.
“You didn’t know him. Not really.” Michael’s voice was weak with sadness.
“Who did?” Howie said in his most bitchy tone. “Who could know a boy like that? He hardly knew himself. He was confused. He wanted this and wanted that. He wanted to be gay but wanted to be thought of as straight. He was a mass of confusion and contradiction.
“Why did you want to get to know him, Howie?” I asked. “I mean, if he was such a ball of problems, why did it matter to you that he slept with Fitz instead of you that night?”
“It didn’t matter. That kind of thing doesn’t matter to me. But this bitch claimed Wade would be with me that night. It was my turn. Wade and Fitz had both promised he would be with me. Instead…”
“He wasn’t with me, either. He was playing us both. He was playing everyone, even Michael.” Fitz turned to Michael. “He played you like a guitar, and don’t think otherwise.”
“He…” Michael was about to defend his friend, but he obviously knew the truth when he heard it. “All I know is he was probably gonna win that goddam contest, and when he did, he was gonna come out and that woulda been the end of me. How would it have looked? Me the only straight guy in a fag competition? What would you think? What are you thinkin’ right now?”
He had a point. Wade had backed him into a tight, uncomfortable little corner.
“But murder? Couldn’t you just walk away, Mike? Couldn’t you leave and forget about the whole thing once you knew what might happen?”
“I could never walk away from Wade but I could never murder him. I couldn’t ever hurt him. Not in any way. Not since we were kids.” His voice became low and sad, wistful. “Trouble is, I would’a let him hurt me but I couldn’t hurt him. Not for anything.” There were tears in his eyes and his voice was choked with emotion. Everyone was silent, not even Howie made a sound. Michael lifted his head and his eyes were gleaming. “I wanna know who did this. That’s what I wanna know. He may’a been shitty to me but he was all I—”
“Touching.” Howie said, there was no way he could keep quiet for long.
“I want to know, too.” I started, and I saw Fitz perk up. “I want to know who did this, who murdered that kid. It wasn’t Michael. Couldn’t have been. I believe him when he says he couldn’t hurt Wade. Love is a funny thing.”
From across the room Michael looked up at me but said nothing. I nodded to him.
“Michael was telling the truth about leaving and returning to find Bubbles locked. The owner told me that he had just locked the place when he heard somebody pounding at the door, and when he looked at the security camera feed, he saw Mike. He was afraid of Mike, after the way he’d been behaving, and I can’t blame him.”
“So, how does that tell you he’s innocent? He’s the only one who could have known about Wade’s routine. He’s the only one who could have known what to do.” Fitz said and stared at me as if he wanted me dead.
“That’s not true, creep.” Michael was on his feet and Fitz shrank back. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna dirty my hands on you. But don’t lie to the man. You knew Wade’s routine because he told me you knew. He never let me help him practice. He said you helped him enough. That hurt, man. But I took it.”
“No wonder he spent so much time with you,” Howie said. “And I’ll bet the routine wasn’t the only thing he practiced. Right, Fitz? You had him hog tied to you in a lot of ways.”
“Not true. He refused to sleep with me after the first week. I tried everything to win him back. I paid for coaches, I gave him a place to practice and the freedom to do what he wanted. I opened up a whole world for him, and he refused me and spent time in bed with others, including this one.” He threw a contemptuous glance at Michael.
“That’s why you were so desperate? That’s why you wanted me out of the way?” Howie’s voice rose to a screech. “When you called me that night, you had no intention of getting Wade to spend time with me, did you? You were just interested in—”
“Murder?” I cut in. “You lingered a bit longer than Fitz thought you did, didn’t you Howie?” I was guessing but it was an educated guess. “And you were there to do what?”
“Never! Never! Murder is not my style. Besides I wasn’t obsessed with the little whore, like he was.” Howie thrust his chin at Fitz. “I did linger and I did see something.”
“That’s why Fitz is parting with that silver pot, isn’t it? What is it worth, Howie? Eighteenth century, if I know my silver. Gotta be several thousand. Right Fitz?”
No one spoke. Fitz swiped his sweaty hands down his pants legs. Michael glowered at Fitz. Howie just inspected his fingernails, as if he had nothing in the world to worry about.
“That pot’s worth a lot, isn’t it Howie.” Still no answer. “But is it worth enough for you to keep your mouth shut forever about what you saw? Don’t you think you’ll be back for more? Lotta nice stuff here. Gotta be worth a million times more than that lousy flower joint you have.”
“He won’t get a thing more. I’ll tell you that. He won’t get another dime.” The anger was like ice in Fitz’s voice. “It isn’t worth it. Nothing’s worth anything. I loved Wade and he just laughed at me behind my back. Well, I don’t care anymore. You’re not getting another dime, Howie. I just don’t care.”
“Howie saw you do it, didn’t he?” I said. “He saw you fool around with the ropes and chains. He saw you rig the set-up so that Wade would die.” I waited but Fitz kept silent. The silence was loud. Howie turned his head away, as if dismissing us all. Michael wept quietly.
Fitz wouldn’t get off easy just because he worked for the city. He’d be something of an antique himself when and if he got out of prison. Howie wouldn’t get soft treatment either. Accessory to murder, blackmail, conspiracy all carried heavy penalties. The only flower arranging he’d be doing was maybe in the Warden’s quarters.
***
My office was quiet. Olga had gone home for the day and I fiddled with a few papers before swinging by Knock for Happy Hour on my way home. I don’t often get a chance to ignore everything and forget about work, but after the Mr. Gay Leather events, I needed a break.
They’d decided not to reschedule the competition, so there’d be no Philly Leather title and no city entrant in the nationals. Howie and Fitz had been arraigned and were looking at huge lawyer fees and a lotta time. Especially Fitz. A long prison term wasn’t nearly enough for a slime ball like Fitz.
The only real victims were Wade and Michael. Beautiful, sad Wade. It would take a long time to get his face out of my mind. Who was I kidding? I’d never forget that night or that face. The poor kid had struggled with himself and when he’d finally decided to be honest, everything was taken away from him.
As I was about to turn out the light on my desk, I heard the stairs creak and squeak as someone came up to the office. I figured it was Anton coming to join me for a drink. But I was wrong.
Ben and Liam sauntered through the reception area and into my
office, like two wayward students who’d been sent to the principal’s office.
“Never thought I’d see the two of you again.” I thought they’d disappear into the fabric of the gayborhood, going on with their parties and gym routines and whatever else they were into.
“Ben has something he wants to ask you and so do I,” Liam said, placing his sleek form into the soft leather chair facing my desk. Ben stood, rock-like behind him.
“I’m all ears,” I said.
“Go ahead, Ben. You said you needed me here for support, not to do your talking.”
“Ye-yeah, I wanna…” Tough, fierce-looking Ben, was at a loss for words. “I just wanna say thanks. You saved my ass and I’m grateful. And—”
“And you want to take me up on my offer to join StripGuyz, right?”
“R-right. Offer still good?”
“You bet. Be there Saturday night and you’ll get your shot. Not that you have anything to worry about.”
“I’ll be helping with his routine. He’ll be great. I know a thing or two,” Liam said.
“I’ll bet you do.” I smiled at him.
“Well, that’s what I wanted to say.” Ben smiled weakly and glanced around as if he didn’t know the way out.
Liam looked at him, and I caught the look he gave Ben, which, if I interpreted it correctly, was a ‘Get the hell out’ kind of look. Ben got the message and turned toward the door.
“See you Saturday, Marco.” With that he moved through the outer office door into the hall.
I looked at Liam, lounging in the chair. He was like an exotic cat, all muscle and beautiful pelt. On alert, ready to pounce.
“Did I miss something? ‘Cause I was about to call it a night,” I said.
“I owe you dinner.” Liam stood, thrust his hands into his pockets, and stared at me expectantly.
“Not necessary, Liam. Ben was in a jam and I helped because I wanted to.”
“I understand, but I was sorta looking forward to having dinner with you.” Liam winked. “Got some time now?”
“I guess I’m kinda hungry, now that you mention it.” I stood and moved around my desk to where Liam was. The heat radiated off his body and I moved closer to embrace him. Placing one hand behind his head, I drew him in for a long kiss.
Dinner with Liam would be even better than Happy Hour. I was sure of it.
About the Author
Joseph R.G. DeMarco lives and writes in Philadelphia and Montréal. Several of his stories have been anthologized in the Quickies series published by Arsenal Pulp Press, in Men Seeking Men (Painted Leaf Press) and in Charmed Lives (Lethe Press). His essays have been published in anthologies including Gay Life, Hey Paisan!, We Are Everywhere, BlackMen WhiteMen, Men’s Lives, Paws and Reflect, The International Encyclopedia of Marriage and Family, the Encyclopedia of Men and Masculinites, and The Gay and Lesbian Review Worldwide among others.
He has also written extensively for the gay/lesbian press and was a correspondent for The Advocate, In Touch, Gaysweek. His work has been featured in The New York Native, the Philadelphia Gay News (PGN), Gay Community News, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Chroma, and a number of other publications.
In 1983, his PGN article “Gay Racism” was awarded the prize for excellence in feature writing by the Gay Press Association and was anthologized in We Are Everywhere, Black Men, White Men, and Men’s Lives.
He was Editor-in-Chief of The Weekly Gayzette; Editor-in-Chief of New Gay Life, and has been an editor or contributing editor for a number of publications including Il Don Gennaro, and Gaysweek. Currently his is the Editor-in-Chief of Mysterical-E (www.mystericale.com) an online mystery magazine.
One of his greatest loves is mystery (all kinds) but he also has an abiding interest in alternate history, speculative fiction, young adult fiction, vampires, werewolves, science fiction, the supernatural, mythology, and more.
You can learn more at www.josephdemarco.com.
Crimes on Latimer: From the Early Cases of Marco Fontana Page 38
