by T. J. Jones
She stood aside as we walked into the kitchen and waved us to a pair of chairs. She pulled open the refrigerator and without asking set a pair of Arnie Palmers in front of us, pulled a stool over from the counter and perched on it between us. She spun the top off a bottle of water and held it up. "Agua, or is the Arnie okay?"
"This is fine." Maggie said quickly. "Hablas ingles en absoluto?"
"Si, my English is okay. I am learning. Mi novio, my man, he wishes I don't talk to you."
We had agreed Maggie would do the talking, because she understood Spanish, and being a woman, Rosie might be more comfortable. But I had a sudden thought. "Rosie, is that short for Rosalyn?"
"Si, yes. Rosalyn Cabello." I nodded. It was the first of the names on Davey's list of seven women in the back of the notebook.
It wasn't lost on Maggie, but she never missed a beat. "We really appreciate you doing this. We aren't cops, or even fake cops, we are just trying to understand how our friend was involved in what happened to you."
"Senor David? I am happy he is dead!" She said with sudden anger. "Now he cannot go to the Diablo Blanco that put me in that juala, and tell him where I am!"
"He put you in a cell? Can you describe him, this Diablo?"
"Very big, tall and heavy with hair like an old man, white. And when he grew angry, when I did not do what he wanted, his face would grow very red and dark. I have dreams of him, his face so dark with anger that his eyebrows, they looked even more white, like a ghost or a demon. And his eyes! The true Devil himself could not have more terrible eyes."
"His eyes, what color were they?"
"Blue, but not like yours, lighter."
"And he locked you in his house? Could you see outside?"
"House? Not his house, in a cage I said. I was his animal, a dog to him. Two weeks, three weeks maybe, I cannot say. I was in a dark room, a basement with no windows. He kept me locked in that cage with a bucket to relieve myself, a gallon jug of water and a little food when it suited him. He started with the needle right away. By the end of a week I needed it and he made me beg for it. He loved that I cried, that I needed the drugs. Sometimes he chained me to a wall, sometimes to the bed. Always he hit me if I cried out. He was an animal, a beast, a terrible beast."
"Take your time, I know this is hard." Maggie reached out but the woman pulled her hand away, as if the touch of flesh on flesh would heighten the terrible memory. She wasn't crying, but she had started shaking violently.
"When I could not please him enough, when my young flesh was not to his liking no matter what degrading things he did to me, he would hit me anyway. He hit me again and again, until my nose was broken and I shit blood. I would love to know where he is, to find him. Manny and his compadres, they would skin him like a goat and I would listen to him scream the way I did. Then I would slit his throat."
"We want him to pay for what he did to you, but legally, through the justice system." I made the mistake of talking. The young woman stared at me long enough to make me very uncomfortable.
"And what justice would that be Mr. Slater? You know that I am an illegal. Your police would send me back to Honduras and this man would not be in jail very long. Do they beat rich Americans when they are in jail the way I was beaten? Do they rape them in the ass like I was raped? That would be just a little of the justice I want. Mostly I want him dead."
"Rosalyn, we can't take back what happened to you, God, I am so sorry." This time she let Maggie take her hand and hold onto it. "What of Davey, did he know about any of this?"
"Of course, he knew." She snapped. "It was he who took me from the Contrabandistas. He bought me from them after my uncle had already paid to have me smuggled here. David told me he had paid for me and that I must go with him, that it was that way in this country. I was fourteen, I didn't know any better. He took me to that Devil, the Diablo Blanco."
"But Davey, are you sure he knew how you were treated?" I couldn't just sit there, I had to ask.
"The man with the white hair, he hit David too when he tried to make him stop. He laughed and hit him and made him watch."
"My God." Maggie choked out. "He forced Davey to watch everything?"
"Yes, he and another man I could not see. The other man, he took me too, from behind. The Diablo, he made Davey hold onto my hair and push my head down so that I could not see."
"Oh Jesus, no wonder you want to skin the bastard." Maggie said, tears creeping down her cheeks. I was nearly there, so enraged and sickened by what I had just heard that I couldn't breathe. I really thought I was going to be sick, and I stepped toward the door. The feeling passed, and I turned back toward the two women.
Rosalyn wasn't done yet. "Again, one more time David Templeton watched what happened to me while he cowered in a corner. Maybe he couldn't stop it, but where were the police then? Why didn't he go to them, why couldn't he have stopped it?" She was sobbing suddenly and Maggie pulled her into a hug, looking as miserable as I felt. Finally, Rosalyn picked her head up again and looked at me. "God may punish me, but I will never forgive Templeton for not helping me. I am glad he is dead."
I stood there looking down at her. "We find this whitehaired Diablo, so help me, I will skin him for you."
In that moment, I think I could have done it. It was becoming clear to me that I was naïve when it came to what people were capable of, even a person as gentle as Davey Templeton. What kind of person had he become?
***
"No, Slater, we're not doing that! One more place, we'll go in and talk to the bartenders, like we did at Billy's."
"If we left now, we could be back before dark. I feel sick. That girl had no reason to lie to us, and it was pretty obvious she wasn't. How could anyone do that?"
"Davey, or Diablo Blanco?"
"Either one! What kind of a monster is that guy? And how could Davey go along with it? Even if he had something on Davey, or he was blackmailing him or threatening him somehow; how could he see that and not go to the police? Why didn't he just go home and ask for help?"
"Maybe the guy was threatening his Mom. We can't give up now. It's pretty clear Davey must have finally ended it with this Diablo and the guy killed him."
"Maybe, or Rosalyn's boyfriend tracked him down somehow. He looked like he would have been more than happy to skin me, much less Blanco Diablo. Davey had a meeting that night and he drove into Jacksonville. If the guy was that dangerous and Davey had ended it, why would he meet him? Or was it someone else entirely?"
"We can make a lot of guesses or we can do what we came here for, to ask questions and find out everything we can. It's early, we'll go to the gay bar, hopefully talk to someone who knew him, then come back here and check out if it's not too late. Worst case we'll stay the night and go home first thing in the morning."
I would have been fine with checking out of the hotel right then and driving north, but I gave in. Everything pointed to Davey being a guy I didn't know, a person capable of things I couldn't imagine or forgive, but Maggie kept insisting that there might be more to the story.
***
It was early afternoon and the bar was nearly empty, just one bartender and I could see a cook cleaning a grill back in the kitchen. There were half a dozen guys and a couple women sitting at tables watching a baseball game on a big screen television. It was a small place, more like your local corner bar than the nightclubs we had been to on the Beach. It didn't look like a gay bar to me, but I had nothing to compare it to.
Maggie ordered herself a beer and made a beeline for the bathroom. I pulled up a stool and ordered a beer too, then picked up the menu the bartender had dropped in front of me. I caught movement to my left and turned. One of the women who'd been sitting at a table, made herself at home on the stool next to me and smiled. She was tall, blond, and good looking. If it hadn't been for the fact that Maggie was with me, I would have thought she was a hooker looking for a date. That, and the Adam's apple.
"Hello there." The blonde purred in a voice an octave too l
ow. "Is that your girlfriend that just ran off to the bathroom?"
"Yeah, sure is, fiancée actually." I said quickly.
"You're cute. What brings you in here, sexual curiosity?" She asked casually.
I shook my head violently. "We just wanted a burger! I'm straight, really straight. Don't take this the wrong way, but as long as you're already sitting here, can I buy you a beer?"
"Yeah, that would be nice." She, or he, sighed and scooted closer to the bar and took the beer the bartender opened as Maggie came back from the bathroom.
She grinned at me and winked. "Don't let me interrupt anything!"
"Funny!" I laughed a little too loudly. I extended my hand and made the introductions. "I'm Slater, this is Maggie, my fiancée."
Thankfully, Maggie played along. "Pleased to meet you, Jeannie is it?"
"It's Jeannie when I'm dressed like this." That cleared things up for me, mostly. Being politically correct was never one of my strong suits, and when it came to crossdressing, I was flummoxed. I didn't want to say the wrong thing and hurt the guys feelings, but at least now I was confident it was a guy.
Maggie was enjoying my discomfort, but she bailed me out. "Come in here a lot Jeannie?"
"Most days. I don't usually dress up, but it's fun sometimes, arousing."
"We never do anything fun like that." She laughed at me and bumped my arm. "Slater's an old stick in the mud, a real stuffed shirt." Maggie took the direct approach. "We're kind of making the rounds to some of the bars, trying to find anybody who knew an old friend of ours, guy name of Davey Templeton."
"Why would you be doing that?" Jeannie asked, suddenly wary. "Sweet, sweet man. Let him rest in peace."
"You knew him?"
"Of course, we were good friends. Everybody in here knew Davey, he was a regular. Hard to believe someone killed him, but that happens a lot to our people, or maybe his past caught up to him."
"Suicide we were told, but maybe not." I said. "We heard he was mixed up with some nasty people a few years ago."
"I guess. Boy like Davey, he was too nice for his own good. Joe, tell these folks what a great guy Davey was."
The bartender nodded and put in his two cents. "Great guy, wouldn't hurt a soul, no matter what anybody says."
"What did they say?" Maggie asked quickly.
"There were stories." Jeannie peered at us cautiously. "How is it that you know Davey and why all the questions about him?"
"We're old friends from Jacksonville." For whatever reason I trusted Jeannie, and leveled with him. "We grew up with him, good friends since we were kids. Honestly, the cops at home said suicide, but we don't think he killed himself and we're trying to figure out who did."
The bartender looked curiously at Maggie. "Are you Angela? I thought you were a blond."
"No, I'm Angela's sister, Maggie. Did Davey mention us?"
"He talked about a girl named Angela all the time, about how gorgeous and messed up she was."
Maggie shrugged and looked at me. "Of course, Angela again, me he never even mentioned!"
"What do you guys think happened to Davey? His past caught up to him, what does that mean?" I asked.
"A few years ago he had a sugar daddy, a really bad guy. Davey was one of those obsessive, compulsive types, you know?" Jeannie peered at me with an eyebrow raised.
I shrugged. "Not me, stuffed shirt, what she said."
"Some people have addictive personalities, and some people like to be dominated. My therapist talks about it all the time. Once they get into that kind of a relationship it gets to be like a drug, they actually crave the abuse. It's not a gay thing necessarily, I know a lot of women and some straight men who love to be treated like crap. Some people, and I think Davey was one of them, they take it to an extra level, a dangerous level sometimes."
"We heard that back in the day Davey did some things, some bad things." Maggie said soberly. "Maybe he was manipulated, or forced; maybe he just wasn't strong enough to say no to this guy. Is that what you mean?"
"Something like that. I don't know for sure, but we all heard the rumors. Bad isn't the word for that guy. Twisted. He liked young stuff, younger the better."
"Davey wouldn't have been okay with that."
"You know how it is with rumors, nobody talks about the good stuff. Rumor was this guy was back in Davey's life lately, trying to drag him back in. Davey was better than that, always doing good things for people. He'd give you his last dollar if you needed it." Jeannie looked around. "We're like family in here Mr. Slater, even more so now, after Orlando. I don't care what people say about him, Davey was a great person."
"But he never told you who this guy was?"
"He didn't ever tell me his name, just said he knew him because of work. I think that's how the rumors got started that Davey was peddling kids. Working for a talent agency, Davey saw a lot of young, good looking people. I mean, that's kind of the idea, that's what people want to see on their screens, right? But the guy that had his hooks into him and I'm guessing he was a serious pedophile. Davey may have sent kids to him without knowing what was going on."
"Why would Davey be with a guy like that?"
"Like I said, he always seemed to look for that, somebody domineering."
"Was he still dating this guy when he died?"
Jeannie gave me an odd look. "No, no, not dating. It wasn't like that."
"Now I'm lost. I thought he had a thing for this guy, that's why he went along with him. You said he was his Sugar Daddy."
"Yeah, I guess the dude has a ton of money, but when I said this perv liked young stuff, what I meant was young girls. I'm sure it wasn't sexual between them, just some kind of control thing. I know Davey and his father weren't close, I just figured it was Davey having Daddy issues, like we all do. He would have told me if the guy was a lover. We always gossiped about the people we were sleeping with."
"I just presumed, Sugar Daddy, I thought maybe it was just casual sex."
"Queer folk are no different than straight people Mr. Slater, most of us are looking for true love just like you and Maggie here. Congrats by the way."
"The wedding isn't until next June." Maggie chimed in, grinning from ear to ear. "I can't believe this big lug finally pinned me down."
I raised my beer and toasted her. "Yeah, I find that hard believe myself."
***
I felt better after talking with Jeannie, or whatever his name was. Despite my misgivings about amateur psychology it did seem possible that Davey had been controlled to some degree. Maybe he had been forced into kidnapping Rosalyn somehow, and maybe it was like Maggie said, maybe he just wasn't strong enough to deny the guy what he wanted. Maybe he'd been brainwashed and forced into it, kind of like Stockholm syndrome. I wanted very badly to believe that, because any other explanation was too painful to imagine. Maggie agreed.
"Let's go home and regroup Slater. We can go over all the paperwork, look through the bank records, and maybe come up with a name. I'm afraid for Angie. My Mom can't watch her all the time and my Dad's back at work already. He comes home long enough to make everybody miserable then off he goes again."
I spoke without thinking. "I really don't think I want him for a partner."
"Why would he be your partner, in what?"
"Remodeling houses. He sent some real estate guy over to talk about flipping houses. I got the impression your Dad would be involved. Actually, I know he would be involved. But they wanted me to start right away, which just sounded like another way of saying don't take my daughter to Miami."
"I won't let him run my life so he tries to run yours. What a dick."
"Not how I'd put it, but I'm going to look for my own financing and buy my own run-down shacks to fix up."
"You're going to be too busy being a private eye to be pounding nails."
"Investigator, private eye sounds cheesy. I need a real job Maggie. I'd starve to death if I had to depend on solving crimes for a living. Look at this case. So far all we've accom
plished is to figure out that my best friend from childhood may have been a hideous douchebag. Not a roaring success. And neither one of the two women that hired me are going to be happy to hear it."
"But we're pretty sure he was murdered, right? That's not nothing, it's a really good start. Now all we have to do is pin it on the guy that did it. We'll figure it out."
"It's always we with you. Am I supposed to be paying you?"
"We're partners, we split whatever we make!" She grinned at me as we pulled into the hotel's parking ramp.
"Half of nothing is nothing, you do know that?"
"But I get to have all this fun with you Slater." We both got out of Maggie's convertible and I walked around the back side, headed for the service door to the hotel.
Parking ramps are like a big room that you've just moved the furniture out of, an echo chamber where noise becomes amplified. I heard the squeal of tires and a sudden roar of an engine from behind me. Maggie yelled and I spun around in time to see a large black truck cornering around a cement barrier. The vehicle didn't slow down, but instead accelerated and headed straight at me. Maggie was already close to the exit near another cement stanchion, but I was in the open, an easy target. I had just a second and I spun around and jumped onto the trunk of Maggie's convertible, then dove from there onto the roof of a Suburban that was parked next to it.
As I landed on the roof of the SUV, I heard a rending crash and felt the vehicle move under me from the impact of Maggie's car sliding against it. I managed to twist around as the truck, its windows tinted and impossible to see through, backed up and then slammed forward again, finishing the job of crushing the side of Maggie's once beautiful BMW. The truck had a sizeable homemade grill guard and the collision barely scratched it. Whoever it was backed up and stopped for a moment as the driver gunned the motor a time or two, considering his options. There was no doubt this was not an accident.
