Crashing Waves

by C J Baty

  Damien and Robert were still keeping their distance from each other.

  Damien moved into the manor with Justin, Marcus, and Peter. Luckily Robert had an apartment in town, and he was able to hold meetings with the employees of the Warfield that needed letters of recommendation for new positions when they were ready to start looking for a job. Justin only hoped some of them would be willing to return to the Warfield when he was able to open the doors again.

  The only good thing to come of the tragedy was Marcus agreeing to move into Justin’s room. Marcus’s move allowed Peter to return to his own room at the manor. The house was full, and everyone was pitching in to help.

  Damien was fielding calls from the press and television stations in the area.

  Though Beaufort was just a small spot on the map, with the murders last summer and now the hotel being partially destroyed, the phone never stopped ringing.

  Justin and Peter had either met with or spoke with lawyers, insurance agents, and investigators until everything was beginning to merge into one clouded mass of confusion. They’d been warned that there would most likely be personal injury law suits headed their way as well. Though there was no loss of life or serious injuries, it was just to be expected. The truth was that Justin would have probably totally lost it had Peter, Marcus, Damien, and Robert not been there standing by his side.

  ––––––––

  “D O YOU think they really know what happened?” Peter asked from where he sat in the backseat of Justin’s car. Moses Lee had called asking them to come to the station for a meeting.

  He, Peter, and Marcus had left the manor right after Moses called, but none of them had said much during the drive. Justin looked across the front seat to watch Marcus as he maneuvered through the afternoon traffic. The police station sat at the corner of two of the busiest streets in the center of town.

  Marcus’s eyes were locked straight ahead, and though his face appeared stern and focused, he answered Peter.

  “I don’t think anyone will ever know exactly what happened or why. Chief Peterson will give us as much information as he can, but Lee probably just wants to hear himself talk again.”

  Peter’s responding laugh wasn’t a happy sound. Justin reached for Marcus’s hand and squeezed it.

  “You okay?” Marcus asked as he returned the touch.

  Two simple words that he had repeated more than once during all the meetings, phone calls, and insanity of the last two days. He had always been there within touching distance and sharing his strength with Justin.

  “Yes.”

  Justin saw a soft smile gather at the corners of Marcus’s lips, and it caused his mind to ease. How could he have ever pushed this man out of his life?

  But that had been another lifetime ago, and now life would be empty without Marcus Drummond by his side.

  “Moses likes an audience and calling us in is just his way of controlling the situation—again. This isn’t going to take long and then you can finally get some sleep. You’re a walking zombie, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks.” Justin knew Marcus was right. He did need to sleep. He had tried, really he had. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Joe Thompson’s bruised and bloody face. Until they had some answers, sleep wasn’t going to come, no matter what Marcus said.

  Marcus stopped the car and turned off the engine. He turned in his seat to face Peter.

  “Can you give us a couple of minutes?”

  Peter nodded and got out of the back seat and leaned against the back bumper of the car. Justin looked across the seat into Marcus’s eyes. Those deep-brown orbs that he had wanted to drown in on so many occasions.

  Concern and love poured out of their depths reaching out to Justin.

  “Whatever Moses has to say, none of this is your fault.” Justin could feel the intensity of Marcus’s gaze.

  “I know that but—” Marcus cut him off before he could continue.

  “None of it, Justin. Not even Caroline. You can’t keep blaming yourself for other people’s actions. Right or wrong, coerced or not, their actions were their own.”

  “What do you mean coerced?” Justin was taken aback by what Marcus was implying.

  Peter thumped the glass on the passenger side door, causing Justin and Marcus to both jump. He pointed across the parking lot to where Fire Chief Peterson was entering the front entrance of the Beaufort Police Station.

  Justin, Peter and Marcus followed behind the Fire Chief through the doors.

  Inside, an officer sitting at the front desk motioned toward a hallway to the right and told them Moses was waiting for them in the first room on the left.

  Moses sat at the head of the table. He stubbed out the cigarette he’d been smoking as the men took seats around the table. There was a satisfied grin on his face. Chief Peterson sat in a chair to Moses’s left. Justin, Marcus, and Peter sat on the right side of the table.

  “First off, we have the kid in a holding cell. Turns out, he went back to Marta’s Place. He figured no one would look for him there.”

  For the second time, Justin wanted to lunge at Moses, but he felt the warm press of Marcus’s leg against his. It reminded him that calm and cool should be the route with Moses.

  “Why?” Justin watched as Moses’s grin slipped away.

  “It’s just until Daisy and Brooks can get here. They want to break it to him about Joe and who he really is? Kid will probably be damned excited to find he’s suddenly rich. I know I would be.” Moses laughed then added, “Though I’m not sure how he’ll feel about his mother’s side of the family.”

  Justin wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t seem to find the appropriate words.

  “The floors all yours, Ralph.” This seemingly polite Moses was even more unnerving to Justin than his usual self-righteous attitude.

  Fire Chief Peterson opened a file that he had brought into the room with him. He addressed Justin and Peter rather than Moses Lee. He clearly had no use for the man.

  “It was a pipe bomb. Simply made with materials that could have been purchased anywhere in the county. It was attached to one of the main support beams in the original section of the hotel. Building materials in the 1920s were not the same code as what we have today, and also allowing for age, well, it was the right location to do the most damage.”

  “Looks like Joe was smarter than we all had given him credit for,” Moses commented, but no one acknowledged it.

  “The curious thing is that there was a timer on the bomb,” Ralph said.

  “But if there was a timer, why didn’t Joe get out before the explosion,”

  Marcus asked, as he glanced from the fire chief to Justin.

  “That’s a very good question. One I’d been puzzling with myself,” Chief Peterson answered. He finally turned his gaze on Moses. “So I invited

  someone else to this meeting who might be able to shine some light on that question.”

  Just as Moses started to object, there was a knock at the door, stopping him.

  Justin and everyone else turned to see Doctor Ernest Martin, the county coroner open the door.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Moses jumped to his feet and shouted.

  Doctor Martin took the seat next to Ralph and laid a large manila file on the table in front of him.

  “I’m here to make my report,” the man answered gruffly.

  “You could have just sent it in; you didn’t have to . . .” The corner put up his hand to stop Moses from speaking further.

  “Unfortunately, yes, I did. Where are we, Ralph?”

  “I just finished my report about the location of the bomb and the timer. Mr.

  Drummond asked why Joe was still in the building when the bomb went off if there was a timer.”

  “Oh, there’s a very good reason for that,” answered Doctor Martin.

  Every eye in the room focused on the man as he continued to speak. Justin thought he heard Marcus mumble something under his breath but wasn’t s
ure he had heard him right. Moses let out a deep grumble and sat back down in his seat with a heavy thud.

  “Joe Thompson was crushed under the support beam that the bomb was attached to. It crushed his rib cage, breaking several ribs which punctured his lungs,” he looked at his notes, then added, “most of his vital organs were crushed as well.”

  “There. Everyone happy now?” Moses huffed.

  “Actually, I’m not finished, Chief Lee.”

  Moses glared at the man and waved his hand as if to say continue .

  “All of the victim’s injuries were consistent with the way he was found, lying on his back when the support beam fell. Except for one.”

  Justin blurted out, “Wait a minute. You said victim. What the hell does that mean?”

  The coroner opened the file lying in front of him. He removed several photographs. Each picture was taken from a different angle, but all were the back of Joe Thompson’s head. He handed them across the table to Marcus who laid them in front of Justin.

  Justin had never seen a forensic photograph before and wasn’t prepared for what he was looking at. The back of Joe Thompson’s head was bashed in.

  There was a definite indention where the skull had been hit with a

  rectangular object. The wound was bloody and raw but there was no doubt something had been slammed into Joe’s head.

  “Could you pass those on to Chief Lee,” Doctor Martin said.

  Moses took the pictures from Justin and briefly looked them over. He pushed them across the table toward Fire Chief Peterson and Doctor Martin.

  “Okay, Doc, what does this have to do with Joe bombing the hotel,” Moses asked, his voice unconcerned.

  “In my opinion, Joe Thompson was already dead before the bomb went off.”

  The room erupted with shouts. It took a moment for Justin to sort the men’s words out. He studied each one of them as they spoke. Doctor Martin was confident in his observations, and he continued to be adamant that this was a homicide. Chief Peterson had a smug satisfied grin on his face as he took the coroner’s side on the issue. Peter was trying to make sense of who really bombed the hotel if it wasn’t Joe. And Marcus was asking loud but calm questions that seemed to agitate Moses Lee even more.

  It was Lee that had most of Justin’s attention. He’d seen Moses lose his cool on more than one occasion. One instance particularly came to mind. When Justin was able to break the news that he was gay to the staff of the Warfield and keep Moses from dragging him and Caroline through the newspapers last summer. Moses was furious. Much like he was right at the moment.

  “There’s a million explanations for Joe’s head injury,” Moses gritted through clinched teeth.

  Ralph Peterson argued, “Name one. One reason that explains how the back of his head got bashed in!”

  Justin watched as Moses visibly tried to calm himself. His voice came out controlled. “He could have tripped and fell, smashing his head. Then rolled over before the bomb went off.”

  “I might agree with you except for one thing,” Doc Martin said. “His skull was crushed. You can’t simply fall and crush your skull in. There was blunt force trauma used on this man. The beam fell on his chest and abdomen. His face had contusions and abrasions caused from falling debris. But the front of his head was not crushed.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a homicide on your hands, Moses.” Chief Peterson smiled as he rose from his seat at the table. “Maybe, you should give Chris

  —”

  “Why the hell would I call County Sheriff Bush?” Moses stood from his seat so forcefully his chair flew out from under him and smashed into the wall.

  “This is my investigation and my department can handle it just fine. I’ll expect written reports from both of you on my desk this afternoon.” Moses rushed from the room leaving five men staring after him.

  20

  ––––––––

  MARCUS CONTINUED TO stroke Justin’s back, long after the man had fallen into a deep sleep. Actually, he’d passed out. Lack of sleep, the meeting earlier in the day at the police station, and later events had left Justin’s mind and body strung out and threadbare.

  It took some work, but Marcus finally convinced Justin to take a hot bath and try to unwind. While he soaked, Marcus heated up some of Winnie’s chicken soup. He added a slice of fresh bread to a plate and took a tray up to their room just as Justin was getting out of the tub. Though Justin complained that he couldn’t eat a thing, he managed to scarf down most of the meal. Not long after, he stretched out in the bed while Marcus rubbed his back and drifted off.

  Marcus was exhausted as well, but his mind just wouldn’t shut down. So much had happened since they’d walked into the Beaufort Police Station earlier in the day. His mind revisited each moment.

  The meeting with Moses Lee and the others had been enlightening. Joe Thompson had not tried to bomb the Warfield, but someone had. Someone who wanted Joe to take the blame. Someone who was willing to commit murder to see Justin’s life destroyed. Listing the facts he knew, Marcus ticked them off one by one.

  The Warfield had been set upon with accidents. Though no one had been hurt, there was a pattern of destruction and there was a definite cost to the destruction. Anyone staying or working at the hotel could have been responsible for those incidents happening.

  Justin had been attacked in his own home. They’d assumed it was merely an interrupted robbery and that possibly Bradley Warfield’s journals had something to do with it. Then there was the attempt by Alexander Thompson, which Marcus and Justin had stopped. Though Marcus couldn’t believe Alexander had anything to do with what happened at the Warfield, he did have a few questions for the boy.

  What had happened to cause the situation to escalate to the total destruction of the hotel now? Why kill Joe Thompson? What did he know or better yet, who did he know that would want the Warfield destroyed?

  Marcus was fairly sure Joe must have known his murderer. At least well enough that he would turn his back to the person, never suspecting he was going to be hit on the back of the head. That had been a sloppy mistake on the killer’s part, leaving Joe laying face up in the basement of the hotel. The only explanation for that could have been the killer was sure Joe’s body would be crushed in the rubble of the collapsing building. If Joe had been left face down, they might have never known that he had been murdered before the bomb went off. Marcus had to hand it to Doc Martin. The man

  knew his stuff. He was positive Joe was already dead before the blast, and he wasn’t backing down to anyone, not even Chief Lee.

  Justin stretched beside Marcus, mumbled under his breath, and reached out in his sleep with his hand. As soon as his fingers found Marcus’s leg, he stroked it several times and then fell back into a deep sleep. Marcus smiled down at his lover and left a light kiss on his forehead then he continued his analysis of the rest of the day.

  After Moses had stormed out of the meeting, Justin and Marcus had found Daisy and Richard Brooks in the lobby talking with Alexander Thompson.

  You could see the poor kid was really distraught over the death of Joe and seemed agitated as well. He didn’t appear to like anything the couple was trying to tell him. As soon as he spotted Justin walk into the large room, he ran between the rows of chairs and desks straight to him. The look of confusion and disbelief on Alexander’s face broke Marcus’s heart.

  “Mr. Warfield? My dad. Is it true what that lady is saying? My dad is dead?”

  Justin wrapped an arm around the young man’s shoulders and led him over to a section of seats along one wall. It was quiet there, and they could talk with some privacy.

  “I’m sorry, Alexander, Joe is gone. We’re not sure exactly what happened, but it is being investigated, and we will know more in a day or two.” Justin was trying hard to console Alexander, but it was clear the boy was having a difficult time understanding what exactly had happened.

  “He loved you very much and was very proud of you, Alexander. Never forget
that.”

  Alexander dropped his head into his hands. His shoulders shook slightly as tears fell to the ground between his feet. He was still wearing the same tennis shoes he’d had on the night he’d broken into Justin’s house.

  Daisy came to sit down on the other side of Alexander. “I know this is so hard but please know I am here for you. Whatever I can do, just let me know.”

  Alexander didn’t acknowledge Daisy Lee at all. Instead, he turned to Justin and said, “I have nowhere to go now. What am I going to do?” He wiped his damp cheeks with the backs of his hands.

  “Can you stay here with Mr. Drummond for a moment? I need to speak with Ms. Marshall and Mr. Brooks over there.” Alexander nodded his head in Daisy and Richard’s direction.

  Justin escorted Daisy over to where Richard Brooks was standing and observing the ongoing events. Marcus was sure that Justin could sooth Daisy and smooth things over for these two people. And as much as he knew the boy was hurting, Marcus was glad for the opportunity to ask Alexander a few questions.

  “Alexander, I know you’re upset right now, but I need your help.” Marcus took the empty seat beside the young man.

  “Me?” Alexander seemed wary of Marcus’s statement.

  “Yes, you.”

  “How?”

  “Why did you go back to Marta’s Place? Why didn’t you go home?” Marcus watched as Alexander began to fidget in his seat.

  “I couldn’t,” he mumbled.

  “Was something or someone stopping you?”

  Alexander’s eyes widened, and he looked nervously around the room but didn’t answer Marcus.

  “The night you broke into Mr. Warfield’s home, you said someone was making you do that. Who was making you, Alexander? Can you give me his name?”

  Alexander still didn’t answer Marcus, and he seemed to become even more agitated as time passed.

  “When was the last time you spoke with your father?”

  A door slammed somewhere in the building and a gruff voice Marcus knew all too well yelled out. Alexander jumped from his seat and started to run.

  Marcus placed a steady hand on his shoulder to hold him in place.