How dare that faggot try to blackmail him? What right did he have to take advantage of Sutton’s position? If only that damned Geri Guzman hadn’t left the incriminating pictures behind for someone else to use!
He supposed the pictures in and of themselves weren’t too bad. He picked up the crumpled paper from where Christina had left it, and smoothed out the creases. He thought he looked damn good in the shot, and some part of him was thrilled that he’d been able to hook up with such a fine piece of ass. Guzman could have graced the pages of any health and fitness magazine and would have sold a million copies by being on the cover.
Lieberman had introduced him to Guzman and that was about the only redeeming thing about that fat fuck of a City Coroner. If the good Doctor hadn’t been such a weakling, none of this would have happened. He’d panicked and had lost Guzman’s phone. Dameron turned his mind away from the events that had followed and focused on the picture he held.
The first time Sutton had watched Guzman undress he’d been speechless. All that smooth tanned skin had been a turn-on and when he’d seen what a treasure he had between his thighs, his mouth had literally watered. Guzman had taught Sutton a lot of things he’d never even imagined. He felt himself get excited at the memory of the first time he’d taken him in his mouth, and reached down to touch himself through his pants.
His ran through each of their encounters in his mind and finally unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. When he got to the memory of that last night, he felt his excitement grow as he remembered how their relationship had ended. Guzman had been completely helpless and Sutton had enjoyed the feeling of vengeful power that had given him. He could feel his orgasm near as he imagined having Toby Bailey in the same position. Those pale blue eyes would be frozen in fear as he realized what was ultimately in store for him. He imaged everything that would happen when he had the young man in his power and with a shuddering cry, he came. After he regained his senses, he tucked himself back into his briefs and zipped his fly, not worrying about the damp mess he’d made.
As long as he took care of the problem before his supporters found out, everything would be fine. He lifted his glass again and drank deeply, then smiled in satisfaction. Anyone that got in his way would find out exactly what happened when he was crossed and Toby was next on his list. That would teach him to mess with Sutton Dameron.
He put down his glass and headed up the stairs on the way to his bedroom. He stopped a few steps from the top, wondering if he should check to make sure he hadn’t stained the upholstery on the sofa. He decided it didn’t really matter. If everything worked out as planned, he’d be able to afford new fabric. Hell – if everything worked out he’d buy Christina a whole house full of new furniture. He laughed at the thought of having the Sawyers over one night and arranging for the Reverend to sit right on the site of his emission. It would serve the bastard right.
CHAPTER NINE
Detective Reightman spent most of Monday morning talking with Hollingfield and Lautner, and then briefed Chief Kelly.
“Hey, Melba, I’ve got something for you,” Nancy greeted her as she came out of Kelly’s office. She handed Melba a small thin box.
“What’s this?”
“The name plate you ordered,” Nancy answered cheerfully. “I called the supplier on Friday and really chewed them out. I guess they didn’t want me calling again, so they rushed it over to me today.”
“That’s great, Nancy! The timing couldn’t have been better.”
On the way back to her desk, Reightman’s phone rang. She pulled it out from her jacket pocket, and hurried to answer it when she recognized who was calling. “Hello, Toby. What’s up?”
“Dameron called me a few minutes ago, and Mitchell said I should call you right away,” he said from the other end. “He apologized for the way he acted – said he was just taken by surprise – and asked if we could meet again. He said he was anxious for us to get together so we could put all of this behind us. He asked that as a show of good faith I should provide him a little consideration and finish giving him what he didn’t get on Sunday.”
Reightman stopped walking and leaned up against the wall. “What did you tell him, Toby?”
After a moment he replied, “I told him that I understood, and I’d be happy to help him celebrate the conclusion of our arrangement, We’ve arranged to meet at the spa – Wednesday night, at eight-thirty.”
“Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow to arrange a time to get together so we can go over everything.” She thought about the increasingly dangerous situation and whose lives were at stake. “Keep Mitchell close, Toby. Don’t venture out of his sight until this is over.”
“He barely lets me go to the bathroom by myself as it is.”
“Good. That’s his job. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She ended the call and walked slowly back to her desk.
“Hey, Jones,” she said as she took a seat.
“Hello. Boss. I wondered if I was going to see you today.”
“I’ve been tied up in meetings.” She looked at the item she held in her hands and added, “I got you a little something.” She reached across the desk, handing him the box.”
“What’s this?” he asked as he took it from her.
“Open it and see.”
Jones opened the box and sat back in his chair, surprised and touched. “You got me a nameplate for the desk.” He read the plaque on the front and polished one of the brass letters with a napkin.
“It’s the least I could do for my new partner. Consider it a welcome present.”
“Thank you,” he said, his eyes shining. He placed the nameplate carefully on the desk and positioned it where she could see it.
“Vincent W. Jones,” she read. “It looks good.”
He came around to the side to view his gift. “I think so too. Thank you again. It makes me feel like I belong somewhere now.”
“You do, Detective. And to prove it, I have one more thing for you – or rather – one thing I need some help with.”
“Shoot.”
“I need your help with the case we are working. You’re going to become more involved now, so I think it’s time to tell you everything that’s going on.”
Reightman filled him in with all the details and went over the plan for Wednesday night. When she finished, he looked across the desk and gave a low whistle. “You’re aiming for the big dogs, Reightman.” He shook his head at the enormity of what she’d just shared with him. “Thanks for telling me about all of this and you don’t have to ask. I’ll help any way I can. Do you need me to go with you tomorrow to meet with Bailey?”
She thought of all the things she was worried about, and decided that there were more important things for him to handle. “No, I want you to hang out at the pawnshops. The last time the murderer picked up a weapon, he purchased it from Goldbleum’s shop and he may be shopping for a new one. Take a couple of officers and keep an eye out in case he follows the same pattern.”
“That’s a good thought – I’ll take care of it. What time do you need me at Time Out on Wednesday?’
“Between seven and seven-thirty. That should give us plenty of time to do a final walk through and get you into position.”
“Sounds good. Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something, but I keep forgetting.” He pulled a sheet of paper out from his in box and handed it to her. “Do you think I really have to go to this?”
She looked over the information and grinned. “Yep – you do. The city is taking their new non-discrimination policy very seriously and these Sensitivity Seminars are mandatory. I attended one a few months ago and they’ll let me count that, but you, Detective Jones, have to attend. Don’t even try to get out of it, because they’re holding a pretty firm line. Unless you’re on your deathbed you just need to buck up and attend. Okay?”
He reluctantly nodded his agreement. “Okay, but I hate to take a whole week for that. But you’re the boss and if you tell me I have to do it, then I guess I’d better
.” He gave the paper one more look and then placed it back in the tray. “Hey,” he said hesitantly, “You want to grab a bite to eat.”
“I’d like that – as long as I don’t have to watch you eat coleslaw on pulled pork. That was just disgusting.”
“You just haven’t learned to appreciate my tongue action,” he said wiggling his eyebrows at her.
“Detective Jones?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
He laughed, pleased with their new camaraderie. She grabbed her purse, and he happily followed her as she led the way to her car.
On Tuesday, John Brown camped out a few doors down from the Damerons’ and watched the house. Sutton Dameron had not poked his head out all morning. John Brown knew he was home because his car was parked on the street. A few minutes before noon, he saw Mrs. Dameron come out of the house and get into her own car. John Brown pulled away from the curb.
She headed north and John Brown followed her as she drove out of the city, wondering where she was going. About ninety minutes later, she turned off the interstate and took an exit leading to the downtown area of the larger city, located just across the state line. He followed her closely until she’d parked, and then found his own parking place nearby. He watched in his rearview mirror as she got out of the car and hurried to a small shop located on the corner. “We Buy Your Unwanted Valuables” read the sign above the door. He got out of his vehicle and walked across the street, leaning up against a nearby building. Thirty minutes later she come out of the door and hurried down the street. He walked quickly toward her, bumping her shoulder as he passed.
“Watch where you’re going,” she snapped.
He turned and looked at her, letting an expression of surprised recognition cover his face. “Christina?” he asked, letting delighted surprise color his voice. “I’m so sorry I bumped into you! I obviously wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you since the charity event at your mother’s home a few months ago.”
“I’m just here on a job,” he replied, giving her a charming smile. He glanced up at the sign above the door she had exited. “You buying or selling?”
She hesitated before answering, “Neither. Actually, I was trading some things I don’t want any more for something that caught my eye.”
“Oh? Anything interesting?”
“Just an old hunting knife – a gift for a friend.”
“Sounds like a nice gift for the right kind of person.”
“Yes. He lost the last one he had and I thought I’d get him a new one since he’s planning on doing a little hunting in the next day or so.” She glanced at her watch, and then said apologetically “I hate to cut things short, but I really need to be getting back home. I’ve got to pick my kids up from school and I still have a drive ahead of me. Give my regards to your mother.”
“I probably won’t see her for a while – busy schedules and all. But I’ll let her know I ran into you – literally.” John Brown gave her a small self-deprecating chuckle. “Again, I’m sorry about that – I need to pay better attention. See you soon.” John Brown watched her hurry to her car and then walked slowly around the block to buy some time. When he got back to his vehicle, he verified her car was gone. “This is getting to be very interesting now.”
On Tuesday as planned, Reightman met with Toby to go over the preparations for the next night. They met in the room at the back of Green Dragon since Toby needed to get away from the spa for a while and was feeling cooped up in his apartment. Reightman agreed, figuring that it wouldn’t hurt a thing to talk over the details in Zhou Li’s presence and the crafty old woman might have a few observations or suggestions to add.
With Zhou Li and Mitchell seated around the carved dragon table, Reightman and Toby reviewed everything they could think of from the Sunday episode with Dameron and then went over the plan for Wednesday night. “Anyone have anything to add?”
Zhou Li stood from here chair. “Please excuse me for a minute – I just thought of something and want to go gather a few things.”
She returned a few minutes later and handed a small packet to Toby. “I want you to brew this and drink two cups before you meet with Sutton Dameron. No more than two cups, Toby – but no less.”
“Okay, but what will it do?”
“The herbal mixture I have given you will help keep you alert. If Dameron encourages you to drink any beverage about which you are not one-hundred percent sure of the contents – try not to drink it. If you have no choice, this should effectively counteract any sedatives or incapacitating drugs for a while.” Zhou waited until she had received Toby’s acknowledgement of her instructions.
Toby weighed the small packet and his hands before replying. “Alright. I trust you, Madame Zhou.”
“I will always try and honor your trust, Toby.” She looked to Reightman. “That is all I have to offer, Detective.”
“I’m sure your contribution will be very helpful and no one else thought about taking the same precautions.” Reightman canvased the small group, “Does anyone have anything else?” When no one spoke up, she stood and picked up her purse. “Then I think that’s all for now. I’ll meet you at the spa at about seven o’clock tomorrow evening, Toby. Try and get some rest.” She turned to Mitchell. “Stay vigilant, and take care of him.” As he met her eyes and they exchanged the unspoken message, she added, “Anything you think you need to do, Mitchell – do it.” When he nodded his understanding, she sighed. “Good night.”
Toby and Mitchell said their farewells to Madam Zhou and went up to Toby’s apartment.
Once inside, Toby placed the packet that Zhou had given him on the kitchen counter. “I don’t want to take this.”
“I know you don’t, Toby. But you said you trusted her.”
“I do trust her. I just hate the fact that I have to because that…slimy ass might try to drug me before slicing me up into a hundred pieces.” He rolled his shoulders a few times. “I’m kind of tense. I think I’ll go take a shower.”
“You’re going to wash away. I think this will be your third shower today, Toby.”
“It’ll be my fourth, but it’s the only time I feel clean. I don’t think I’ll ever be clean again.” The last was said with such disgust and self-loathing Mitchell couldn’t meet his eyes.
Mitchell watched him walk back to the bedroom. He went to the fridge and took out a beer and then drank most of it. He sat the bottle on the counter and then picked it up and finished it off. Then he walked to the back of the apartment. He heard the shower start and took of his shoulder holster and removed his shirt. He laid it on the chair in the corner and finished undressing. After acknowledging to himself that what he was about to do would take all of his self-control to keep on task and prevent any misunderstandings, he walked into the bathroom and opened the shower door.
Toby turned in surprise when he stepped into the steamy stall. “Mitchell?”
Mitchell took the soap from Toby’s hands. “Turn around,” he said, “I’m going to wash your back.”
Toby looked at Mitchell with a trace of suspicion, trying to figure out what he was up to. Giving up, he eventually turned around.
Mitchell lathered up the soap and began to wash his back. He worked the soapy lather across Toby’s shoulder and around his sides and then knelt down and washed Toby’s feet, picking each one up to get them clean. He worked his way up the calves and the thighs and then gently cleaned the rest. “Turn around,” he instructed.
Toby hesitated, and then turned. Mitchell washed the chest and stomach, careful around the small purple bruise. “This looks better than it did yesterday. Now, wet your hair, I want to do that next.” Toby put his head under the hot spray and let the water run over his head and down to his shoulder. Mitchell poured shampoo into his hand and then gently lathered Toby’s head. “Rinse.”
Toby put his head under
the water and worked the lather out of his hair.
“We’re almost done,” Mitchell assured him. After giving Toby’s body a few more swipes of the soap he positioned Toby under the falling water. “Last time under the water. Rinse off before the hot water’s gone.”
Toby stepped back under the spray, and when all evidence of soap was gone, Mitchell reached over and turned off the water. He reached over the door and pulled two towels from the hook. He gently dried Toby’s skin, and then his own. He wrapped Toby in a bathrobe and wrapped a damp towel around his own waist. He then took Toby by the hand and led him the counter and combed his hair. He turned Toby toward the mirror. “Look Toby, you’re all clean, not a spec of dirt anywhere, so don’t tell me that you feel dirty.” He looked Toby right in the eye and sternly said, “You’re clean inside, too. What you’re doing to help catch Geri’s killer seems grimy to you, but you’ve convinced all of us – and yourself – that it’s necessary. So, man up, Toby Bailey, and quit letting this eat you up inside.”
“You’re supposed to be the cop, not the friend,” Toby whispered.
“I’ve decide I can be both. I don’t really think there’s a way to separate the two at this point, even though I thought I should try.” Mitchell narrowed his eyes as he looked Toby over. “Oops. I think I missed a spot!” He leaned in and kissed him on the nose. “There – all gone.”
“Mitchell, you’re a dork and I don’t know how I can stand having you around.” Toby gave him a ghost of a smile, but it was the first thing resembling a smile Mitchell had seen from him in the past couple of days.
“You keep me around so you can keep cooking up elaborate schemes to get me nekkid.” He nudged Toby’s shoulder. “Loosen up. I’m curious about something, though. Do you ever wear clothes?”
“Yes, I wear clothes! Just not all the time, and almost never when no one’s around. It saves on laundry.”
Hard Job Page 18
