Black and Blue and Pretty Dead, Too

by Mark Zubro

  Cotton and Grant waited in the tower room with Slade. Cotton and Grant wore black leather chaps over tight jeans and black leather vests over taut chests. The front of Cotton’s pants was soaked and smelled of urine.

  Slade started to burble. Fenwick pointed at him and said, “Get out.” There was no denying the fury and command in Fenwick’s voice. Turner guessed his buddy was as fed up and exhausted as he was.

  With barely another murmur, Slade left. As Slade passed through the doorway, Fenwick said to Sanchez, the beat cop, “Would you locate Mr. Bryner and bring him up here.”

  Turner asked, “Did you finish showing the pictures to all the registration people?”

  Sanchez nodded, pulled out one of the pictures. “They thought this guy came in with Bryner. You know who he is? He looks familiar.”

  It was Franklin Armour. Turner told him who he was and his position in the department. Sanchez whistled. “He’s here now. With Bryner. The guys at the door said they came in together.”

  Turner said, “Bring them both.”

  Fenwick said, “Now we know who his clout is in the city. Did they kill Belger?”

  Turner said, “Awfully suspicious, but one set of suspects at a time.”

  Cotton and Grant sat on chairs. They held hands, their arms and legs pushed together.

  Fenwick said, “You fuckers didn’t tell us everything.”

  Cotton said, “You fuckers never did anything to stop those assholes. We did nothing wrong. We got a shit-ass cop off the streets. Something nobody else in this city seemed willing to do.”

  Fenwick said, “You talking about Belger or Callaghan?”

  “We had nothing to do with Belger’s death.”

  “Did you know Peter Scanlan?”

  “Who?” Cotton asked.

  Turner thought his mystification was genuine.

  “Kid was killed here earlier.”

  “Why would we know him?”

  Turner asked, “What was the plan with Belger and Callaghan?”

  Grant and Cotton confirmed the story they’d heard from Zuyland. “We knew of the plan at the bar. If that didn’t work, we were ready to try other things.”

  “Murder?” Fenwick asked.

  “No, never,” Grant said.

  The detectives went over every detail of Grant and Cotton’s story. The two men claimed every word they said was true. Turner and Fenwick let them go.

  Sanchez ushered in Bryner and Armour.

  Armour said, “What the hell is going on?”

  Fenwick said, “Did you kill Belger?”

  “What nonsense is this?”

  Fenwick glared.

  Armour said, “I’m leaving.”

  Turner said, “No.” Fenwick could bluster with the best of them, but when Turner gave an order with that quiet command, few chose to disobey.

  Everyone sat.

  Bryner said, “Well, you got your wish. This whole thing has been shut down.”

  Fenwick asked, “Your clout in the city couldn’t save you this time.” He turned to Armour. “You’ve lost your touch.”

  “Fuck you,” Armour said.

  Turner said to Bryner, “What happened to your boyfriend in Des Moines?”

  Bryner instantly flared into rage. “How dare you bring that up? That has nothing to do with this convention, with these murders.”

  Fenwick asked, “How’d you get the whole thing suppressed?”

  Bryner could barely control his breathing as he spoke. “No one, no one, accuses me of killing my boyfriend. No one.”

  The detectives let the silence build. Bryner looked from one to the other.

  Bryner asked, “Do we sit here in silence until we die of boredom?”

  Fenwick said, “If you’d like, you could sit until you keel over.”

  Bryner said, “You think this is funny?”

  Fenwick said, “What I think is funny is you getting away with murder in Des Moines. What I think is not funny is that there are two murders at your convention. Why do people die around things you touch?”

  “I had nothing to do with them. Nothing. To. Do. With. Any. Of. Them. Nothing.” He collapsed back into a chair and said, “You two can sit there like great Buddhas, but I’m done talking.”

  Turner said to Armour, “What’s your role in all this? Why were you at the meeting with Boyle?”

  “I was told to go.”

  “Bullshit,” Fenwick said. “You manipulated yourself into it.”

  “Speculate all you want. Speculation doesn’t get you a conviction.”

  “Conviction,” Turner said. “Yes, you need to be convicted. You guys got the Scanlan kid killed.”

  Armour said, “I got him released.”

  Turner said, “Which got him killed. Why did you release him?”

  “He didn’t do anything,” Armour said.

  Turner said, “He was an underaged kid at this party. That’s a lethal dose of publicity right there. Was protecting this party worth getting him killed? Death was better?”

  “For these guys,” Fenwick said.

  “Fuck you,” Armour said.

  Fenwick said, “Did you guys kill Belger?”

  Armour said, “Whatever for? He may have been an embarrassment to the department, but he certainly wasn’t to me. Not while he was alive. Not while he’s dead. Him I don’t care about. You’re going to have to look elsewhere for your killer. You’ve got nothing on us.”

  “Not yet,” Turner said. “What’s the connection between Boyle and Callaghan?”

  Armour said, “All I know is Nance was always sticking up for Boyle. You can look into that yourself. I know nothing about Boyle and Callaghan. I don’t deal with personnel issues.”

  “Why would Nance stick up for him?” Fenwick asked.

  “He’s his clout,” Turner said.

  “What do you know about them?” Fenwick asked.

  “Nothing,” Armour said.

  Fenwick growled, “There’s gotta be something. Speculate.”

  Armour said, “Unlike you two, I’m loyal. I’m not saying anything more.”

  And not another word would they say even after a lawyer showed up.

  In the car Fenwick asked, “They kill Belger?”

  “They who?”

  “Take your pick.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m just not sure so.”

  Fenwick asked, “Was that piss on the front of Cotton’s pants?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Should we have questioned them separately?”

  Turner sighed. “I really don’t want this to be about a gay revenge squad. I really don’t want a gay person accused of murder. Yes, I know gay people commit murder. Just, I don’t want it to be this time. We’re going to question Boyle. That asshole has a lot to answer for.”

  “We tell Molton first?” Fenwick asked.

  “Is there a choice?” Turner asked. “I’m angry, but I’m not stupid.”

  Fenwick agreed. Turner put his cell phone on speaker so Fenwick could hear his conversation with Molton.

  When Molton answered, the Commander said, “I’ve got news. I have test results.”

  “So soon?” Fenwick asked.

  “Unlike other Commanders who shall remain nameless, I actually do have friends in the crime lab, but even then I wouldn’t have asked if this wasn’t a huge priority.”

  “What did they get?”

  “The whip Boyle had with Scanlan’s prints and Belger’s blood?”

  “Fake?” Fenwick said.

  “Real. It did have Scanlan’s prints and Belger’s blood. Several prints were in the blood.”

  “Scanlan killed him?” Fenwick asked.

  Turner said, “The whipping didn’t kill him.”

  Molton said, “But Scanlan whipped him.”

  Turner said, “But Armour let him go, not Boyle.”

  Fenwick said, “Boyle had the whip.”

  Molton put in, “Said his people found it.”

 
“Bullshit,” Fenwick said.

  Molton said, “I do believe that is the correct medical term.”

  Turner said, “Scanlan was on the tape for the booth Belger was at. Proximity doesn’t get you a conviction, but it puts you on your way.”

  “He’s dead,” Fenwick said.

  “I hate that in a witness,” Turner said. He explained that their next step was to confront Boyle.

  Molton said, “Get him.”

  “You’re not going to try and stop us?” Fenwick asked.

  Molton said, “You will be fine. You are among the best detectives I’ve ever seen. I have absolute faith in you. This hour of the morning, he’d be at Gracie Heaney’s Diner.”

  Fenwick said, “Never heard of it.”

  Molton said, “It’s a hangout for brass.”

  “They don’t let us low lifes in?” Fenwick asked.

  “It’s very exclusive,” Molton said. He gave them the address.

  FORTY-TWO

  Gracie Heaney’s Diner had all the charm of a roach-infested garbage dump but was less well lit. They found their quarry in a tiny booth in the back of the nearly deserted diner. The humidity was as close indoors as it was outside. Exclusive maybe in terms of cop brass clientele, but not in décor.

  In the booth with Boyle was Phillip Nance, the department’s press spokesperson.

  Turner said, “And now we have it confirmed who Callaghan and Boyle’s clout is in the city.”

  The detectives pulled over chairs and effectively blocked egress from either side of the booth. Boyle said, “Get the hell out of here.”

  Fenwick said, “I love commands in the middle of the humidity.”

  Boyle shoved his jaw an inch from Fenwick’s. The Commander said, “Let’s see how brave you are now. I have squads of my men who’ll take you on.”

  Fenwick said, “They’re all waiting outside just for you to summon? Ha! You going to taser us? Ha! Threaten somebody who’s going to take you seriously.”

  Boyle said, “Your ass is going to be fired so fast. And you will be in real pain before I’m finished with you.”

  Fenwick said, “Is real pain different from fake pain?”

  Turner said, “You really think it makes sense to threaten us in front of witnesses?”

  Fenwick said, “Nance is in it with him.”

  Nance gulped and gaped.

  “It’s not the first time he’s tried this,” Fenwick said. “It’s going to be the last.” There was no mistaking the thrum of menace in his voice.

  Nance said, “Really we should stop this.”

  Boyle snapped at him. “Stop what? They started it.”

  Fenwick laughed uproariously. Their two antagonists frowned at the maniacal note mixed amid Fenwick’s guffaws. Fenwick said, “I’m back in second grade.”

  Turner said, “Mr. Nance, what’s your connection in all this?”

  “You can’t question me,” Nance said.

  “I can and will,” Fenwick said.

  Boyle made to shove his way past them. Fenwick blocked him with his bulk. Boyle might as well have been trying to move a mountain.

  Turner said, “Mr. Nance, why have you protected Commander Boyle all these years? And if you’ve protected Boyle, you’ve protected Callaghan and probably Belger. They were rotten cops. What hold on you is so strong that keeps you silent? Were you part of their theft ring?”

  “No, I had no connection to that.”

  “How about murder?” Fenwick asked. “You got a connection to murder? Why help cover it up?”

  “I am not covering up for Belger’s murder.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Boyle said.

  “You’re covering up for another murder?” Turner asked. “Or do you mean someone else is covering up for Belger’s murder?”

  Nance turned very pale. Something there, Turner thought.

  Turner said, “Your connection to all of Boyle’s and Callaghan’s and Belger’s criminal activity is going to come out. You are going to be hounded. When what you’re covering up comes out, you’re going to be vilified, arrested, tried, and convicted.”

  Nance said, “You don’t have that kind of power.”

  Fenwick said, “I’d claim we have the power of truth, but that’s almost as funny as what you guys said. I’d go with us blabbing to the press, but you’re a master at twisting the truth. I’d go with Molton being beyond any corruption you can attempt to enmesh him in, but I’d never underestimate your power to taint integrity. But you do not have absolute power, and you have no power over me.”

  “We can fire your ass,” Boyle said.

  “No,” Fenwick said. “You can’t.”

  Turner asked, “What is the connection with Callaghan and what about him is so worth protecting, covering up, lying, and murdering?”

  “I didn’t kill anybody,” Nance said.

  Turner said, “You didn’t kill anybody, but you know who did?” Turner saw that the man had sweated through his uniform coat. He was onto something.

  Boyle jabbed his finger at Nance. “Don’t say anything, you idiot.”

  Nance ignored him. “What about those two gay guys who complained? They were at the Black and Blue Party. They were into S+M. Why haven’t you gone after them?”

  Turner said, “We never asked about two gay guys. How do you know about two gay guys and that they were into S+M?”

  Boyle said, “Shut up, you fuck.” He tried to rise.

  Fenwick shoved him back down.

  The press spokesman glanced around. Used a napkin to wipe at sweat on his neck. The white paper turned damp gray. Nance said, “Uh, there were lots of gay guys at that party. That’s what I meant. Gay guys at the party. That’s all.”

  Turner said, “But a limited number who complained and who were at the party and who you know about. How is that? Why is that?”

  “What is your connection to Callaghan and Belger?” Turner asked.

  “I don’t know them.”

  “You dumb fuck,” Boyle said.

  “But you’ve said enough,” Fenwick said. “He needs to remain silent only if he’s guilty. If he’s innocent, he could tell us everything. He’s slipped and you’re fucked. That’s the way I like things.”

  Turner said, “Don’t you guys get what was going on?”

  Boyle looked pissed. Nance looked puzzled.

  Turner said, “There was a double conspiracy. Zuyland, the reporter, was out to get the cops who screwed him over. You two and Callaghan were out to get Belger. Each side involved a lot of innocent people in hare-brained schemes. You can’t have conspiracies that convoluted and hope to keep them quiet.”

  Fenwick added, “You could even make it a triple conspiracy if you want to include Armour and Bryner so busy protecting their goddamn party.”

  Nance said, “What?”

  Boyle said, “Bullshit. Zuyland and them couldn’t have planned to get cops. They’d never have the nerve. They’d never get away with it.”

  Fenwick asked, “Callaghan’s job going to be here when all is said and done? Not likely. They’ve got the video. You’ve got power. Not enough. This time you’re not going to win. Not after we get through with you.”

  Boyle said, “You’re bluffing.”

  Turner took out his cell phone.

  Boyle said, “You going to call your boss and tattle on us? That won’t do you any good much longer. He’ll be out.”

  Turner said, “Your mistake was involving Scanlan.”

  “He’s dead. He can’t testify against anybody.”

  “Ah me,” Turner said. “But videos live on eternally. Once it’s in cyberspace, it’s out of your control. You’ve never been to a leather event, have you?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Everybody’s got a cell phone out. Everybody’s got a camera. The booth Belger worked taped everything for their web site. We’ve got your buddy Scanlan...”

  “He did that on his own,” Boyle said.

  Turner knew they’d seen Scanlan at the same booth as Belger, b
ut they’d seen no connection. He presumed there had to be. He was certain of it. He said, “He whipped Belger to the point of bleeding. He wasn’t strong enough to do it on his own. Somebody was holding Belger. Somebody was planning. Scanlan was part of your conspiracy. You probably planned to kill him anyway, but Armour and Bryner screwed up, and unwittingly helped you. Unintended consequences.”

  Turner flipped open his phone. He pressed the buttons Fong’s assistant had shown him. Scanlan at Belger’s booth appeared. Boyle looked and grabbed for it. Turner was too quick. He yanked it out of reach.

  Nance said, “They’ve got tape? They’ve got tape!”

  Turner turned the screen so Nance could see it. “That’s Scanlan at the booth.” And then he bluffed and took a risk. “We’ve got more. Much more.”

  “No,” Nance said.

  “Shut up,” Boyle said.

  Fenwick added, “You idiots, Belger was in on it with Zuyland and Preston the bartender and Dinning the recorder from the Raving Dragon. They were all in on it. Zuyland has the goods on Callaghan and Belger and you two. He knows about the stealing you condoned. He’s got all of it. He’s getting ready to go on the air with it.”

  “Why didn’t he come forward before this?” Boyle asked.

  Turner said, “Belger’s killing got in the way. He wanted to get Belger and Callaghan equally. He’d gotten Callaghan. He was waiting to turn on Belger. You got him first.”

  Fenwick said, “While you were conspiring to get Belger, they were conspiring to get you. They gotcha.”

  “No,” Nance said.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Boyle said.

  “No,” Fenwick said. “No one is going to shut up. No one is going to keep quiet. It’s all coming out. It’s all going to be shown on the air. All of it. You’ve lost.”

  “No,” Nance said.

  Boyle shoved at Fenwick and tried to rise.

  The door swung open and Molton, followed by detectives from Area Ten, swarmed into the diner. Wilson and Roosevelt had Callaghan in cuffs in between them.

  Boyle swore. Nance wept.

  FORTY-THREE

  Ultimately, it was the quivering Nance who blabbed. Back at Area Ten Callaghan was in one interrogation room, Boyle in another. Nance, who had refused a lawyer, was in Molton’s office with Turner and Fenwick.

  Turner asked, “Why kill Belger?”