Murder Most Deserving

by Hank Edwards

  “Shut up, Tanner.” Musgrave looked at his brother. “Who else was involved?” Then his gaze drifted back to Misty for a moment.

  Marty sipped his beer, calm as a cucumber under his brother’s brash attitude. “The girl attacked the skinny guy, and those frat guys made it worse. Jazz was trying to stop an all-out brawl, and the skinny guy insulted….” His voice trailed off awkwardly, and Michael felt his face flame under Marty’s quick glance. Then Marty frowned and shrugged. “Well, he was being a real homophobic jerk,” he finished with a scowl at Norbert.

  “And then we kinda ended it, didn’t we, Lady Mayor?” Steve waggled his brows and winked at Trish, who smiled and blushed a little.

  “We did.”

  A Brock Hammer line flitted through Michael’s mind: Escaping the deadly ebb and flow of a riotous crowd with your skin in one piece makes a man damn grateful to be alive, and itching to fight or fuck.

  Not one of Russell’s more eloquent lines, but rather apropos, apparently. Michael was still aroused by Jazz’s fierce display.

  “I’ve half a mind to run all of you in for public fighting,” Musgrave said.

  Michael was impressed that neither Kitty nor Jazz made a comment about Musgrave saying “half a mind” about himself.

  “So much for crowd control, Tanner,” Musgrave remarked, and then he looked at Greg Tompkins. “Help Tanner clear these bystanders out of here.”

  Tompkins started moving people on with the familiar phrases, “Nothing to see here. It’s all over. Move along. Come on, now, move along.”

  “I don’t know if it’s enough to go viral, but I’ll post it,” Deirdre said as she walked away.

  “I don’t think so,” Misty said, and snatched the phone out of her hands.

  “Hey!” Deirdre cried when Misty deleted the video.

  “Show some class,” Misty told her, handing the phone back.

  Musgrave approached Ally and Sonya, both still crying. “The two of you are bandmates with Bill Denton, correct?”

  Sonya nodded, wiping her tears away with her sleeve.

  “I take it you’re aware that Mr. Denton has died,” Musgrave said flatly, probably his idea of sympathy.

  “Y-yeah,” Sonya muttered. “We heard about an hour ago.”

  “We’ll need you two to ID the body, and then I’m going to have to ask you to come down to the sheriff’s station with me,” Musgrave said. “I have a few—”

  “But he’s the murderer!” Ally shrieked, pointing at Norbert.

  “She attacked me for no reason,” Norbert said, and spit blood into the grass.

  “You murdered Bill!” Ally shouted. “You should have been locked up with Withingham!”

  “How dare you!” Norbert shouted back, and then he addressed Musgrave. “I didn’t even know Bill was dead until she attacked me. I had nothing to do with his death.”

  Michael exchanged a look with Jazz. “She just mentioned Russell,” he whispered.

  Brows up, Jazz only shrugged, appearing as confused as Michael.

  “Now come on, emotions are running high, I know,” Musgrave said, hands up. “Everyone needs to cool their jets or you’re all under arrest.”

  “You should’ve arrested him when he tried to help Withingham cover up killing Dylan, but you let him go,” Ally said and pointed again at Norbert. “He’s a fucking killer!”

  “Watch your language!” Musgrave snapped, then scowled at her. “And how do you know so much about the Dylan Roberts case?”

  Ally spit and glared at Norbert. “He’s my cousin. Or he was, until Withingham murdered him. That asshole tried to kill my dad too.”

  “Cousin?” Musgrave and Jazz said at the same time and then gave each other dirty looks.

  “So you’re Wilson Roberts’s daughter, cousin to Dylan Roberts,” Musgrave clarified. When Ally nodded, he planted his hands on his hips, looking at Norbert and then Michael. “Well, shit.”

  The plot thickens, Michael mused. He might have recused himself from Denton’s autopsy, but now Michael wondered if his death was somehow connected to Russell. That seemed like a stretch, even for his mystery-novel-fed mind.

  “Dad? What’s going on?”

  Musgrave’s daughter, Rae, pushed into the clearing. She was as tiny as her father was huge, and her new fauxhawk haircut surprised Michael. He’d heard Jazz and Musgrave both talk about it, but he had yet to see her in person. It was a drastic change from her previous style, and he felt a twinge of sympathy for Musgrave trying to navigate the unpredictable waters of raising a young woman.

  Rae put a hand on Ally’s shoulder. “Hey, what are you doing here? I just heard the news about Bill. Are you okay?” She turned on her father, eyes wide. “What did you do to her?”

  “I didn’t do anything to her,” Musgrave said, his tone defensive. “How the hell do you know her?”

  “This is my girlfriend.” Rae glared up at her father, and when her face screwed up in anger, the tiny blonde actually resembled Musgrave. “I told you about her!”

  “Try and keep up, Hilton,” Kitty said, glowering at her brother-in-law, then smiling at the two girls. “Hi, Ally. I’m Rae’s Aunt Kitty, and this is my husband, Marty.”

  “Hi, Amanda… sorry, Rae. Hi, Ally,” Marty said with a quick lift of his two beers and bashful smile.

  Musgrave gaped at them all, then at Rae. He flipped a thumb at Ally. “This is your girlfriend?”

  “Oh, Hilton,” Michael muttered when he saw the disgust in Musgrave’s face. It’s like he hadn’t heard a word Michael told him that afternoon.

  “She assaulted me,” Norbert shrieked, halting whatever Rae had been about to say. “I demand you arrest her. And Jasper. He threatened me. I fear for my safety.”

  “What?” Rae said, clutching Ally’s arm. “Dad, no!”

  “She’s a menace and needs to be taken off the streets,” Norbert declared, looking surprisingly arrogant even as his face started bruising up.

  Michael approached Jazz and took his hand. Jazz hissed in pain, and Michael quickly released it. “Sorry!”

  “It’s okay.” Jazz gave him a small smile. “I’m bummed it’s my scissor hand. Guess I’m not used to punching guys in the face.”

  “You were very brave,” Michael said and leaned in closer. “And hot.”

  “Oh yeah?” Jazz grinned, but it looked sad and tired to Michael. “You like butch fighter-type men?”

  “Just so you know, we can hear everything you two are saying,” Marty muttered from where he stood a couple of feet away.

  “You are the biggest tattletale,” Kitty said as she shot a dirty look her husband’s way before smiling at them. “Please continue, Jazz Hands and Boss Man. Don’t mind us.”

  “I think I need to put some ice on my hand,” Jazz said, then cocked an eyebrow at Kitty. “And you obviously need to read more gay romance novels.”

  “No one leaves yet,” Musgrave declared. “I need statements from each of you. Again.”

  “At least it’s not about a murder this time,” Jazz said, then bit his lip as he turned to Michael. “Oh, wait. But it was for you earlier, wasn’t it?”

  Musgrave approached them, shot a glance over his shoulder at Rae and Ally, and grumbled, “These festivals bring in all the weirdos.”

  Jazz pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “And by weirdos, I’m sure you don’t mean people of an LGBTQ persuasion.”

  To his credit, Musgrave got a stricken expression. “What? Oh, no. I meant…. Forget it.” He adjusted his gun belt and peered over his shoulder. “Tompkins!”

  The twins answered simultaneously. “Yes, Sheriff?”

  “Each of you take a statement from one of these two.” He jerked a thumb toward Michael and Jazz. Musgrave surveyed the immediate area where most of the crowd had thinned. “Where the hell is Tanner?”

  “Here, sir!”

  Musgrave whirled and jumped back when the ginger-haired deputy stood directly behind him. “Dammit, Tanner! I told you not to bunch up in
my space.”

  “Sorry, sir!”

  Musgrave glared at Norbert. “Tanner, have Farthington cool his jets in my squad car. You stay with him till I get there. Call the EMTs and get his face looked at. Then I’ll take him to the station for questioning.”

  “The indignity!” Norbert stomped his foot. “What do you need to question me for? I did nothing! They attacked me.”

  A faint grin teased the corner of Musgrave’s scowl. “You told me that you fear for your safety. Nowhere safer than the back of my squad car.”

  Norbert huffed, speechless as Tanner led him away. As the crowd parted, Michael saw two squad cars parked in the middle of the street, their red-and-blue lights flashing.

  “What about them?” Grace asked, indicating Sonya and Ally.

  “Put them in your car, then when you’re finished with Dilworth and Fleishman, take the ladies to ID Denton and then bring both of them back to the station,” Musgrave said.

  If Michael wasn’t mistaken, the sheriff grimaced a little when he used the word ladies.

  “She didn’t do anything!” Rae shrieked, clutching her girlfriend’s arm.

  A flash of uncertainty crossed Musgrave’s face, but then his expression hardened. “Just doing my job, Amanda Rae.”

  “I told you to call me Rae!” she shouted back.

  Musgrave’s expression tightened even more. “I’m sorry. It’s tough to…. Fine, Rae. You happy?” Without waiting for a response, he directed his attention at Grace Tompkins. “Put them in your cruiser, Deputy.”

  When Grace hesitated, Musgrave frowned. “You have your orders, Tompkins.”

  She jumped and then hurried over to Sonya and Ally. “If you would come this way, please.”

  “This is total bullshit, Dad!” Rae shouted, not letting go of Ally’s arm as Grace herded them toward the squad cars. Norbert was already in the back of one car, Tanner standing guard and waiting for the ambulance.

  “Sheriff, I trust that you have all of this under control, then?” Trish asked, looking quite authoritative despite her colorful Uncle Sam hat and bedazzled blazer.

  “I do, Madam Mayor,” Musgrave assured her.

  Trish nodded, then announced to everyone nearby, “The night is young, and there are still plenty of drink tickets and more musical performances. Let’s all enjoy the festival.” She blew a kazoo Michael hadn’t seen her pull from her pocket. “Let’s get this party restarted!”

  That seemed to break up the last remaining onlookers. Grandpa and Mona sidled up immediately to Trish, whispering in hushed tones as they slipped back into the crowd.

  “We should go too,” Kitty said to Michael and Jazz. Then she glared up at Hilton. “You can be such a giant ass clown, ya know that?” With a wave of disgust, she followed Rae.

  “I’ll come with you, Kitty,” Misty called after her. Then she paused and placed a gentle hand on Musgrave’s arm. His anger disappeared in a flinch. “Patience, Hilton. Patience.”

  She flitted away, and Musgrave gaped after her before turning to his brother. “What the hell did I do?” he cried, throwing out his hands.

  Marty, still holding the two beers, opened his mouth to say something, glanced at his retreating wife, then shrugged. “Gotta go, Hil. Call me later.” Then he rushed after Kitty.

  Musgrave shot a look at Michael. “This whole thing is a nightmare,” he declared. And then he stomped off toward his squad car, where Norbert awaited.

  “Well, that was a rather dramatic exit for ol’ Hotel Boy,” Jazz remarked.

  “Indeed.”

  “Guess I’ll see you in the morning, Captain,” Steve said with a wave.

  “Steve,” Michael began, halting the man. When Steve faced him expectantly, Michael fumbled for the right words, finally settling on, “Thank you. And I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Steve flashed a wink and gave Michael a tiny salute. “No problem, Captain.” Then he too disappeared into the festival.

  Jazz and Michael turned to find the Tompkins twins standing directly in front of them.

  Jazz flinched. “Boy, you two just came out of nowhere.”

  “Been standing here the whole time,” Greg said.

  “Did your parents like ’80s new wave pop music with a lot of synthesizer?” Jazz asked.

  The twins frowned as they looked at him.

  “Ever hear of the Thompson Twins?” Jazz continued. “Band from the ’80s? ‘Hold Me Now’? ‘Doctor, Doctor’?”

  Michael snickered and wished he could whisk his man away from the festival and into his bed. Now that everything had settled down, visions of his brave boyfriend standing up to all those bullies were dancing salaciously through his mind. He wanted nothing more than to be alone with Jazz, kissing a path down his body as he undressed him.

  “You don’t think we’ve ever heard that joke before?” Grace asked.

  “Pretty much every day of our lives,” Greg said.

  Jazz gave them an elaborate, wide-eyed look. “Even when you were babies?”

  Michael let out a laugh, then cleared his throat and turned away as the twins gave him the evil eye.

  “I’ll take the one who thinks he’s so funny,” Grace said.

  “Guess I get the mortician,” Greg said, and pulled out a small notebook.

  It didn’t take long for them to give their statements, and by the time they’d both finished, a new musical group had taken to the stage. The sun hung low over the lake now, and the mosquitos were out in force. A cloying mix of bug repellent, citronella, sunscreen, body spray, and patchouli floated over the crowd, the strong aromas kicking off a headache for Michael.

  Misty came up beside him and rubbed his back. “You okay, Michael?”

  “Oh, I’m fine.” He looked over to where Jazz had apparently finished giving his statement to Grace and was talking to her about possible hairstyles. “It’s him I’m worried about.”

  “He would hate for me to say this, but I am too. He’s been through a lot this year.” She wrapped an arm around Michael’s waist and pulled him close to her side. “You’re the brightest spot in his life right now. I’m so glad you found each other.”

  Michael gave her a side-armed hug in return, overcome with affection for his new friends. “I am too.”

  She stepped back and patted his arm. “Give him some time. He’s going through a lot of changes.”

  Something in Misty’s tone made Michael want to ask what she meant, but at that moment Jazz approached, so he let it go.

  “How’s Rae?” Jazz asked, and they all watched the squad car with two grieving women in the back fade into the night. A bright red ambulance took its place, bringing EMTs to check Norbert for serious injuries.

  Misty sighed. “She’ll be fine. I talked to her and Hilton.”

  “And?” Michael questioned. He had hoped Musgrave would think twice when it came to Rae, because his usual brusque manner wasn’t helping.

  She waved airily. “They’ll figure it out. Hilton is just doing his job, and I think Rae knows that. Ally isn’t under arrest or anything. They need them to identify the….” Her voice trailed off. “Well, you know. Bill.” She whispered his name. “They’ll be finished in an hour or so. Rae is going to bring Ally by the salon tomorrow so she can pick up her braid. I think they want to get pedicures.”

  “Can’t be all that upset if they’re planning spa services,” Jazz remarked.

  “What do you mean, pick up her braid?” Michael asked.

  “When I cut her hair, we kept a foot of it so she could send it off to a place that makes wigs for kids with cancer,” Jazz explained.

  “How nice.”

  “Oh, there’s Dottie,” Misty said, her face brightening. “Did you get to hear them play before the commotion? Oslo was amazing, wasn’t he?”

  Michael and Jazz exchanged looks, and Michael answered for them, “Yes, we saw them. He’s quite talented.”

  “He is,” Misty agreed, then waved good night. “Jazz, I’ll see you in the morning. Michael,
you’re coming to my block party Sunday, right?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.” Since Jazz came into his life, Michael had developed quite the social calendar, and he rather enjoyed it.

  Misty hurried over to her cousin, Dorothy, who hovered near the stage entrance with a disapproving expression. Dorothy had her arm around her daughter, and her husband stood behind them, his expression condemning, as he held a Bible with a long bookmark against his chest. Behind them, Oslo was dutifully collecting the broken strings from his violin bow off the stage floor. Yeah, they were weird, all right.

  “Nice save, sweetie,” Jazz said, and then he frowned and shook his hand. “Do you mind if we leave now? I should get some ice on my hand.”

  A banjo player currently on stage hit a sour note, making them grimace.

  “I don’t mind at all,” Michael said. “Let’s go.”

  “I hope you have wine at home,” Jazz said.

  “I do.”

  “A lot of wine.”

  Michael chuckled. “Oh, I do.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JAZZ HELD the ice pack wrapped in a dish towel against his knuckles as he sat on a stool at the granite-topped island in Michael’s kitchen. His hand ached, but not too bad. He just hoped it wouldn’t swell. It would be hell trying to hold a pair of scissors with swollen fingers.

  Michael puttered in the kitchen, putting together something for them to eat. Jazz leaned down to sip his wine through the bamboo straw Michael had added to the full-to-the-brim wineglass he’d set in front of Jazz.

  Of course Michael would have reusable drinking straws instead of plastic. And of course he would be considerate enough to not only provide an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, but the straw itself to allow Jazz to drink hands-free. Jazz wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve meeting such a thoughtful, caring, patient man—with a hot body and a cock to match—but he hoped the universe saw fit to keep them together.

  “This has been a crazy night,” Michael said with a sigh.

  “Yup,” Jazz agreed.

  “I can’t believe we were almost in a fight….” He looked over his shoulder. “Well, you did dodge that guy’s punch and throw a good one yourself. Where’d you learn to fight?”