Hard Job

by Jeffery Craig

  Mitchell was standing in the silvery moonlight, as they’d stood together on the terrace the night before. He was looking out over the city.

  “Mitchell, what are you doing out here?”

  “Thinking. I thought I might try it while I wasn’t wearing any clothes. After all you introduced me to the concept last night. I think I like it.” Mitchell grinned over his shoulder and then turn back to look out over the city. He rolled his shoulders, causing the muscles in his back to flex.

  “Mitchell, it’s late and I think…”

  Mitchell looked back at the man standing in the darkened doorway. “Toby, come on. Just take off your clothes and join me. We have to take the photo you need in a few minutes, so you’re going to have to get undressed anyway.”

  Toby didn’t move from the door and finally, Mitchell said, “Just humor me. I have some things to say, and for some reason. I think this is the best way for me to say them.”

  “Mitchell, you’ve really taken to this new tradition,” Toby joked, hoping to relieve some of the gravity in Mitchell’s voice. He stripped down, letting the clothes fall as he removed them. He walked out onto the terrace to stand next to Mitchell. They stood side by side, without saying a word, just looking out over the lights gently illuminating the downtown district.

  After they had been there for a while, Mitchell reached over and pulled Toby to his side, with his arm draped over Toby’s shoulders and began to speak. “I have very strong feelings for you, Toby. I don’t know for sure how I’d categorize how I feel, but maybe ‘love’ will do for now.” Mitchell turned his head to view Toby’s profile. He studied it for a minute, memorizing the features. Then he tilted back his head, looking up at the moon shining overhead. “You know I’m worried about this plan – we all are. But I know you need to see it through.” Mitchell paused as he collected his thoughts. “I’m concerned about what this will do to you. Not the physical danger – I’ll make sure you’re safe and so will Detective Reightman.” Mitchell laughed as he looked at the moon. “It feels really weird to say her name while I’m naked.”

  “Yeah, I guess it kind of does.”

  “Toby, don’t let this hurt or damage you – who you are inside, I mean. Come out of this whole. Protect yourself and build whatever walls and defenses you need to do that. Whatever happens, I want you to know I think you’re doing the right thing, and I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

  “Thanks,” Toby responded after he had swallowed the lump in his throat. “That means a lot to me.”

  “Toby, will you let me do something?”

  “What, Mitchell?”

  Mitchell took a while to answer, continuing to gaze up at the moon. “Will you…let me kiss you?”

  Toby felt his heart skip a beat. “What about your silver daddy?”

  “He’s not here,” Mitchell said simply. When Toby gently punched his arm, Mitchell gave an apologetic laugh. “That probably didn’t sound the way I meant it.”

  Mitchell turned until he was almost facing the man next to him. “What I meant to say is you’re special to me, Toby. This is probably the last time we can be together like this for a while – if ever. Tomorrow, I’m going to have to step back, and be a cop.” He indicated them, standing closely without a single item of clothing. “I won’t be able to think like a cop if I’m thinking too much like your friend – especially a friend who feels totally natural and comfortable when we’re together like we are now. Before last night, I’d never stood naked outside before in my life, much less with another person, and now, here I am again.” Mitchell looked back up to the sky and let out his breath. “The cop can help protect you, Toby. I don’t know if the friend can do that nearly as well.”

  “So…you want to kiss me as a…friend?” Toby asked uncertainly.

  Mitchell considered the question as he looked into Toby’s eyes. “I don’t know what I want, exactly. I just know I want to kiss you – tonight – here – while there’s nothing at all between us. Not my job, not the things that we’re afraid might happen, and not what happens after this is done. Just here and now, for this minute we’re together – I want to kiss you …and have you kiss me in return.”

  Toby reached out and gently traced the line of Mitchell’s brow, trailing his hand gently down the cheekbones and jawline. “I wonder what he’ll taste like?” he wondered as his fingers brushed Mitchell’s lips. “Yes.” He pulled Mitchell in towards him.

  Mitchell placed one hand on his shoulder and another gently on his waist, as he leaned in. Their mouths met briefly, and Toby pulled away. Mitchell studied his face and then pulled Toby close again, bringing their lips together tightly. This time, their kiss lasted longer as they explored each other, teasing with lips and tongues. Toby felt his body react, and could feel Mitchell swell against his thigh. They continued to kiss until Mitchell reluctantly pulled away. He took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against Toby’s.

  “What does this mean, Toby? I don’t think I understand what this reaction I’m having to you means.”

  Toby stepped back until he could see all of him. His blue eyes moved from Mitchell’s face and down to his strong chest and flat stomach, until it reached the proud, generous flesh reaching up from the nest of curly brown hair. He looked up into Mitchell’s face again, catching his eyes with his own. “It means you’ve just given me something wonderful and special to remember, and it felt fantastic to both of us. Thank you, Mitchell.” They held eye contact for a minute more, searching and wondering.

  Toby knew he needed to break the mood before it overwhelmed him, and took them both down a path they’d regret. It would be wonderful for a while, but that path, Toby realized in the moonlight, might never be right for either of them. He knew they’d be friends forever, but maybe never lovers – certainly not here and now on this night when there was so much stretching out before them. Toby understood what they’d just shared was beautiful, but also tempting. It needed to end before turning into something neither of them was ready for, or able to handle. He reached down and gave his cock a playful little tap, setting it gently swinging. “It means this happy guy thinks you’re a damned fine kisser, but knows he won’t be getting more than that.” He gave a devilish grin as he reached out and gave Mitchell’s cock a little tug and squeeze. “And it means your silver daddy is a damned fool if he lets this get away from him.”

  Mitchell realized what Toby was doing, and even knew he was right to do so. He allowed himself a moment of regret for what might have been, and then returned Toby’s grin with one equally as devilish. “I think you are more than camera ready, Mr. Bailey.” He cupped Toby’s cock in his hand as if checking its heft. “I always knew I’d make a good fluffer – now I have proof!” Toby danced back from Mitchell’s hand, laughing at the comment.

  “We’d better head inside and get those pictures taken while everything’s at its best advantage and the produce looks ripe and succulent.”

  “Yeah – I’ll take your pic and then you can take a couple of me.” Mitchell looked down at himself and grinned. “This might just tempt my silver-haired gentleman into sampling my wares.”

  Later, after much laughter and a lot of horseplay, they agreed on which photo to post. Toby had captured one especially playfully erotic shot of Mitchell at his very best. They picked up their discarded clothes and put them away. Toby pulled on his sleeping shorts and Mitchell pulled on his briefs before crawling into bed. After reading a while, Toby lay down on his side to watch Mitchell as he slept.

  “Thanks for the kiss, Mitchell,” he said quietly to the sleeping man. Toby adjusted his pillow and very gently touched his fingers to the man’s lips. “You tasted like clean, warm rain on a September night,” he thought as he closed his eyes. “Someone is going to be a very lucky man one day.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  By noon on Thursday, Reightman had let all the people on her list know what they were planning.

  Her meeting with Chief Kelly was tense, to say the leas
t. They were both struggling with the situation between them, and with Reightman’s new, temporary authority. Reightman was still resentful of how he’d tried to damage her credibility, although she still didn’t understand his motivations. She wasn’t sure he understood them either, and she was certain he’d never offer more than the very brief and grudging apology he’d made the day after the events in the big conference room. Regardless of all that, he listened to her explain the plan and agreed it was worth a shot.

  “Don’t let things go south on you if you can help it, Detective,” he said when she wrapped up. “There’s a lot of room for error here, especially if you flush someone out from under their cover.” He leaned back in his creaking chair. “If there’s more than one person involved in this, it could get real bad.”

  “Do you think there is more than one person involved?”

  Kelly tightened his lips and chewed on the inside of his cheek, while he thought it over. “Maybe,” he reluctantly answered. “The thing that bothers me is that if the murders are somehow connected, as you suggest – and I’m still not sure they are connected – then it’s damned odd the killings were handled so differently.”

  “You mean the first murder was done with a knife, the second made to look like a suicide and the final…”she broke off at the thought of that final murder.

  “And the third and final was a drive-by hit,” the Chief finished for her, his eyes hard and flinty. He leaned forward in his chair. “These three different killings which – if they were done by the same son-of-a- bitch – tell us something about the person who did them.”

  “They don’t fit a normal profile,” she said as she realized where he was headed. “And whoever did them was very creative.”

  “You’re abso-fuckin’-lutely correct, Detective,” he said sarcastically, as if she were a child who couldn’t manage to tie her own shoes. “But there’s one more thing about these murders you need to consider.” Kelly waited for her to make the connection. “Think, Reightman!” he barked at her. “What the hell else have you learned from the scenes where the bodies were found?”

  “The killer knew what we would be looking for, and took great pains to cover his tracks,” she answered slowly.

  “And how might he – or she – have known how to do that?”

  “They’ve killed before or… they’ve had some training. The same kind of training we’ve had.”

  “Or both,” Kelly said as he leaned back again. “They may be trained and they may have killed before. Not one or the other.” He sighed and folded his hands on his stomach. “I hate to think it might be a cop, but we all know how many tentacles this seems to have – if you are right about your theories.”

  “Do you think I’m right, Chief?”

  “Hell if I know, Reightman.” He growled. “You have a possible motive for some powerful folks to want Guzman dead. You have a weapon for the Guzman murder but haven’t tied it to anyone yet. Lieberman’s death is…” Kelly spread his hands and then dropped them back into his lap, “something else, altogether. Maybe Lieberman did kill himself because of guilt and remorse over killing Guzman. He had to be half crazy – the way he cut off a piece of the man’s dick.” The Chief scratched his head as he thought about it. “It may be someone did kill Lieberman and make it look like a suicide because Lieberman knew too much or was involved somehow.” He looked ruefully her way and added, “I hate to admit it, but after turning it over in my mind a few times, I can’t see how that fat fuck could’ve killed Guzman and gotten away without leaving something behind.”

  “And Sam?” Reightman asked the Chief.

  “Yes, and Sam. One of four things happened there, Reightman. The first scenario is Jackson was hit as he was trying to shield Bailey. The second scenario is Jackson knew something the killer didn’t want him to keep on knowing and Jackson was the actual target all along. The third – Jackson was in someone’s way. In the way of what, I don’t know. And the fourth is that Jackson was somehow involved himself and was inconvenient to keep around.”

  “Sam Jackson would have never been involved in any of this, and you know it!”

  “No, Reightman, I don’t. I believe he’d never be involved. But, I don’t know it.” After a minute, he leaned back again. “About our conversation concerning Detective Jones and his assignment – I’ll accept your recommendation, provisionally, and somewhat against my own inclination.”

  Reightman bristled at his tone. “Don’t you trust my judgment, Chief?” she asked pointedly.

  “Here are my provisions,” Kelly continued, ignoring her question and the attitude behind it. “He proves himself capable of doing the job to my satisfaction. This is a step up for him and he needs to learn the ropes.” Reightman nodded her agreement. “The second provision is after a six-month period, you still think he’s the right choice to be your partner. There may be a million reasons why you may decide he is, or isn’t. But give it six months, and then decide. I was inclined to say no because I think it is too soon after Jackson’s death for you to make this decision.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  He stood from the chair and said, “Then I think we are through here, Reightman. I appreciate the briefing.”

  “Yes, sir. You’ve given me some food for thought.”

  He stopped her as she reached to open the door. “Would you send Nancy in on your way out?”

  “Hey, Nancy, the Chief wants to see you,” she told the admin as she exited Kelly’s office.

  “He better have finished up the paperwork I’m waiting on,” Nancy said with a touch of menace. She rose from her desk and picked up another full file folder. “What he doesn’t know, is I’ve got more for him.”

  “He’s going to love that,” Reightman turned to leave, but realized she had a question. “Nancy, did you get the nameplate ordered for Detective Jones?”

  “Sorry, Melba – I forgot to update you. It’s backordered. It should be in Tuesday or Wednesday. If you really need it earlier I could try to order one from somewhere else, but the city has a contract with this supplier and I’d have to get approval for an exception.”

  “No, there’s no need to do that. There really isn’t any hurry.”

  “Okay, Melba. I promise to call when it gets here.” Nancy scurried in through the Chief’s door and closed it behind her.

  When Reightman arrived back at her desk, Jones was unwrapping a pulled pork sandwich.

  “Looks good,” she said as she took a seat and pulled out her phone. She started to dial Toby, but set the phone back down. “I just got through talking with the Chief,” she said, watching him slather coleslaw unto his sandwich. “How can you eat that on your sandwich, Jones? Only barbarians do that.”

  He shrugged as he put the bun back on top. “Have you ever tried it?” He took a big, manly bite and closed his eyes in appreciation. “Umm, umm good,” he hummed around the sandwich.

  “No, I haven’t tried it,” Reightman admitted. “And after seeing you in action, I don’t think I’ll ever want to. It’s just…disgusting…”

  “No one who’s seen me in action has ever used the word disgusting to describe my performance.” He leered at her suggestively from across the desk and took another bite.

  “At least use your napkin! You have some kind of white juice caught on the corner of your mouth. It’s gross!”

  “Sometimes things get messy when you’re doing them right.” He poked out his tongue and licked the white coleslaw ooze from his lips.

  She threw a pencil at him and he ducked. “Hey – that’s not fair!” Jones protested with a laugh as he scooted his chair back into a safer range. “You can’t attack me when I don’t have a way to defend myself.”

  “One of these days you’ll learn that I don’t play fair – I play to win.”

  He laughed again and took another bite, this time wiping his mouth primly. “So, how was your meeting with the Chief,” he fished.

  “It was fine,” she said, deciding to make him work fo
r an answer. “I just gave him an update on all of the work the team’s been doing.”

  “Anything else?” he asked innocently, as he took another bite.

  “Yes…a few things. We talked about his golf game and about the new flower beds he put in for his aunt,” Reightman fabricated. “I think next weekend he’s going to help her put in some mums and other fall flowering plants.” She smiled brightly. “Oh yes, there was one more, small item….”

  “And what was that?” he asked with a perfect air of non-concern.

  “He wanted to talk about the recommendation…” she smiled again, “…I gave him – about a carpet cleaning service I used. He thought his Berber rug was looking a little dingy.” She pursed her lips and the nodded. “I think that was about it. Why do you ask?”

  “Reightman, I’m going to flick coleslaw all over you in just about ten seconds. You know perfectly well what I’m trying to find out. Did he go for it? Will I be assigned as your partner?”

  “Oh! I totally forgot to bring it up with him!”

  Jones opened his sandwich and scooped up a big glob of slaw with his finger. He bent the finger back like a catapult and waited. “One…Two…Three…” he counted.

  “Jones – don’t you dare fling that slaw at me!”

  “Five...Six…Seven…Eight…”

  “Alright! Alright, already!” His finger slowly returned to its original position, although Jones didn’t remove the slaw. “I did raise the idea and he agreed, but he wants the assignment to be provisional for about six months while you learn the ropes over here in Homicide.”

  Jones licked the slaw off his finger. “That’s fair. I do have a lot to learn about procedure, and how we engage and assign other resources, and… a lot of stuff I don’t have a clue about yet. Was there anything else that concerned him?”