Drag and Drop

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jacksonville, FL

EVEN THOUGH CARL was the youngest detective on my team, he’d ranked number one in the recently offered Sergeant’s Examination, and I had conflicting feelings about his success. On the one hand, I was glad for him. On the other hand, his ranking meant that he would be eligible for the first sergeant slot that opened up, and I would lose him from my team. I called Janet to tell her that I’d dispatched Carl to Orlando and returned to my paperwork.

That evening Mike and I were sitting in our den enjoying an after dinner glass of wine. I was at the computer working with Peachtree accounting software, and we were discussing our finances. I clicked on an icon, sent a report to the LaserJet, and handed it to Mike when it had finished printing. He scanned it quickly and said, “Babe, we’ve done pretty well this year, haven’t we?”

“Wait until April fifteenth next year, and you’ll see the other side of that coin.”

“You don’t think we’ll have enough depreciation and other stuff to wipe out the tax liability?”

“I asked our accountant to run some projections. He thinks it’s going to be close.”

“Babe,” he said, “you know I hate to pay taxes.”

“Then it’s time to get serious about finding one or two more rental houses.”

“I told you that some time back.”

“So you did, and now I’m convinced.”

“Print me a balance sheet for FM Properties,” he said. After much discussion, we’d formed a corporation that held the title to our rental properties, using the first letters of our surnames for the name of the corporation.

I did so and handed it to him. He studied it for a minute or three. “Damn, we do look good on paper, don’t we?”

“We should. We have this house, the house I inherited from my parents, the house your office occupies, the two houses you bought a long time ago, and the two duplexes and two houses that we bought last spring.”

“Don’t forget the contingency fund we’ve built up over the last year,” he said.

“It’s right there on the balance sheet,” I said.

“I see it.”

“Of course, that’s not the best part.”

“And that would be what?”

“Remember, half the rent from that one house is going into the fund, and the other half is going toward extra payments on this house. I think we’ll be free and clear on this house in less than four years.”

“Works for me.”

“Put your nose to the ground and see what you can find,” I said.

“First thing in the morning.”

“Are we all set to fly to Asheville for the twins’ graduation?”

“Yep.”

I was about to say something, but my cell phone interrupted my train of thought. I glanced at the caller ID and said, “Hi, Carl, how’re things in Orlando?”

I listened for a long two or three minutes and said, “Okay, Carl, you hang tight. I’m going to call the captain and ask him to call a buddy of his down there and set things in motion. Do you have your shoulder holster and shield in full view? … Good. Better tell Jim to hang that special deputy badge from his belt or something. … Give me that address again. … Okay, I’ll call you back in a few.”

Mike was staring at me with both eyebrows raised, so I held up a finger and said, “Listen and learn.”

I set the desk phone in speaker mode and dialed a number.

“Bridges,” a gruff but familiar voice said.

“Evening, boss, George here.”

“I do have caller ID, you know,” he said.

“You always say that.”

He ignored my jibe and said, “What’s up?”

“You know I sent Carl down to the Parliament House in Orlando looking for our possible witness?”

“I read all your memos, George, so?”

“He found out that two of the drag queens were very friendly with our guy Tommy during the talent contest Friday night.”

“He talk to them?”

“They both have a couple of nights off, so Carl went looking for them.”

“Did he find them?”

“He just found two dead bodies in a house in the Orlando suburbs. Same MO as our dead drag queen—bullet through the eye. He says from the smell, they’ve been dead for a couple of days.”

“Orlando police on the scene?”

“Not yet. Can you call your buddy down there and set it in motion from his end? We might just get a little extra cooperation that way.” I gave him the address.

“Consider it done. Pack an overnight bag, I’ll have a cruiser delivered to your house in twenty minutes.”

“I don’t mind taking my truck.”

“George, I want you there as quickly as possible, consistent with safety. There will be a cruiser at your door in a bit, and it’ll have a full tank of gas.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’ll call you back in a few minutes,” he said, and the line went dead.

It took five minutes for the phone to ring. “Call Carl and tell him the OPD are on the way,” the captain said. “Lieutenant Clarence Ivory will be in charge.”

“Will do, boss.”

“George, I’m sending you down there because it’s time you developed a working relationship with one of your counterparts in Orlando.”

“Do you know this lieutenant?”

“His boss is an old buddy of mine, and I’ve met him a couple of times. You’ll find that the two of you have something in common, even though he’s a good ten years older than you.”

“I understand, boss. I need to call Carl, then my sergeant to give her a heads-up for tomorrow.”

“Are you familiar with the intersection of I-4 and Colonial Drive?”

“Sure.”

“Call the OPD dispatcher when you get to the Orange County line, and there’ll be an OPD car at that intersection by the time you get there, waiting to escort you to the scene.”

“Do you have a telephone number for OPD dispatch?”

“They said to simply call 911 and identify yourself. Good night, George, and keep me informed.”

I hung up the phone and looked at Mike. “Any questions?”

“Not a one. I’ll go pack an overnight bag for you.”

“I’ll be down the hall in a jiff, I need to do a quick change.”

I called Carl and told him to be on the lookout for Lieutenant Ivory. Then I called Janet and let her know what was going on. After that, I hurried to the bedroom, put on a clean white short-sleeved shirt, snapped a lieutenant’s bar in place on each collar, and stepped into a fresh pair of dark blue khakis. The doorbell rang as I was pulling on a pair of loafers. I jumped up and gave Mike a quick hug and kiss and went to the door, carrying my overnight bag and my computer bag, with Mike and Thor following.

“See if you can book me into a hotel for the night,” I said. “There’s a Hampton Inn at I-4 and SR-436, I think. In any case, I’ll need two beds.”

“Will do. Have fun.”

There were two cruisers parked at the curb, one with a driver behind the wheel, the other obviously empty. The uniform who’d rung the doorbell handed me a set of keys and said, “Enjoy your ride, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Orlando, FL

I THREW MY BAGS in the backseat, got in the car, and headed for the expressway. I took it easy until I was a few miles south of the St. Johns River on I-95, then I let the car out a bit. It was a nearly new Crown Victoria, and I easily maintained a steady ninety all the way to Daytona, slowing down only to ease onto I-4. I-95 had six lanes all the way to I-4, and the light bar flashing on top of the car kept the far left lane clear for me with no problem. I called 911 when I passed the Altamonte Mall, and was patched through to the OPD dispatcher. As I approached the Colonial Drive exit in downtown Orlando, an OPD cruiser pulled off the shoulder, turned on its light bar, and led me west on Colonial Drive for a couple of miles and then north on another thoroughfare a few blocks before turning down a side street. There were several OPD cars at the scene.

I got out of my car and walked over to my escorts. “Thanks, guys,” I said.

“Any time, Lieutenant,” the driver said.

I found Carl and Jim in front of the a modest sized house talking to a very tall, very large, but not fat, black officer. I walked up to them, and Carl spotted me first. “You made good time, boss,” he said.

“The captain sent me a new Crown Vic, and I flew it fast and low.”

The black officer turned and said, “Lieutenant Martin, I’m Lieutenant Ivory.”

His voice was almost as deep and resonant as that of James Earl Jones. I shook his hand and said, “My captain said you and I have something in common, but so far I don’t see it.”

He chuckled. “Most people wouldn’t, Lieutenant. I think he was probably referring to s****l preference. Age and color aside, the principal difference between us is that you’re out, and I’m not. At least not beyond my immediate superior, anyway.”

“Please call me George. My gaydar isn’t very good, I’m afraid, so I would never have picked up on that.”

“I’m Clarence.”

“So, Clarence, what do we know so far?”

“Not much. Detective Johnson and Deputy Williams knocked on the door. It wasn’t latched and swung open when they knocked on it. They smelled something odd, investigated the odor, and found two dead guys in the living room, each of them with a bullet through the eye.”

“I called you, boss,” Carl said, “and you set the rest of it in motion.”

“What did you learn at the Parliament House, Carl?”

“One of the bartenders told us that there was a guy there Sunday evening asking questions about Tommy.”

“What kind of questions?” I said.

“He claimed Tommy was his little brother, and he was looking for him.”

“Claimed?”

“The bartender didn’t buy it, boss. He said the guy sounded more like a jealous boyfriend.”

“Did he tell the guy anything?”

“He didn’t know anything, but he remembers telling the guy that the two drag queens who live in this house were very friendly with Tommy during the talent contest.”

“Can he describe the guy?” I said.

“I think so.”

“Any chance he saw our Tommy off stage and in street clothes?”

“He says he did.”

“Does the OPD have a good sketch artist, Clarence?”

“One of the best. I’ll have one of my people go talk to this guy.”

“Excuse me, George,” Jim said.

“What?”

“The bartender has the hots for Carl,” Jim said. “All Carl has to do is ask, and he’ll go downtown.”

“What do you mean, hots?” Carl said.

“Carl, he was all but drooling over you,” Jim said. “Trust me, all you need to do is wiggle your ass, and the guy will follow you all the way back to Jacksonville to see your sketch artist if you ask him to.”

“Clarence, do you mind if we do it that way?” I said. “It might even be good for community relations.”

“Help yourself,” he said, and chuckled. “I’ll have someone set up an appointment for you.”

“Jim,” I said, “do you have to go to work tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Then you can take Carl’s car home, and I’ll get him back to Jacksonville tomorrow.”

“I’ll need some clothes,” Carl said.

“It’s too late for a mall,” Jim said. “Lieutenant, where’s the nearest Walmart?”

“Go back to Colonial Drive, that is, SR-50, and west to John Young Parkway. It’s a major thoroughfare, and you can’t miss it. Turn right—north—on John Young Parkway, and there’s a Walmart near its intersection with Princeton Street.”

“Socks, underwear, tee, and a shirt, please,” Carl said. “And some shaving gear and Right Guard.”

“You can use my shaving gear, if you like,” I said.

“Okay, no shaving gear, just Right Guard and a toothbrush,” Carl said. He handed Jim his car keys.

“The deputy knows your sizes?” Clarence said.

“He’s not really a deputy,” I said. “He’s Carl’s partner and just came along for the ride. I thought the special deputy badge might impress somebody at the bar.”

“A gay lieutenant and a gay detective,” Clarence said. “That’s pretty diverse.”

“Like you,” I said, “Carl isn’t out. I know, and his sergeant knows, but that’s all for the moment.”

My back was to the street, and Clarence was facing it. “Don’t look now,” he said, “but here come de press.”

“Great,” I said. “Carl, you and I need to fade into the woodwork and let Lieutenant Ivory handle this.”

“Not on your life, George,” Clarence said. “Let’s go put on a dog and pony show. I’ve seen you on national television, and the cameras love you.”

“It’s your call. I’ll follow your lead.”

He led us over to the crime scene tape at the edge of the street where two reporters and camera crews were setting up lights and equipment. Clarence waited patiently for them to get their gear in place, and then he walked up to them. Carl and I followed.

“Lieutenant Ivory,” a pretty blonde said, “can you tell us what’s happening here?”

“It’s too early to tell very much,” he said. “The bodies of two white males were discovered in the living room of this house. They’ve been dead for a day or so, but we won’t know for certain until the medical examiner performs an autopsy.”

“What was the cause of death?” she said.

“Each of them appears to have been shot at close range and with a small caliber weapon. We’ll know more later.”

“Who’s this with you?” the male reporter said.

“This is Lieutenant Martin and Detective Johnson from the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office,” he said.

“You’re a long way from Jacksonville, Lieutenant… wait a minute,” he said. “I’ve seen you on television. You’re the guy who got that serial killer for hire up in North Carolina, aren’t you?”

“That was me,” I said.

“How many people had he killed?”

“Seventy-six that we know of. The FBI referred to the seventy-six victims as the killer’s ‘bodies of work’.”

“I didn’t know those guys had a sense of humor,” he said.

“Some of them do. Back to the crime at hand, Detective Johnson came to Orlando hoping to interview a witness in connection with a homicide in Jacksonville last weekend. The trail led him to this house, and he actually found the bodies.”

“Are we looking at another serial killer?”

“It’s too early to speculate. Anyway, I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation in this jurisdiction. It’ll be up to Lieutenant Ivory and his people to handle that.”

He clearly took that as a dismissal and turned his attention back to Clarence. Clarence answered questions from both reporters patiently for a few minutes and finally told them that he had to get back to the crime scene.

“Let’s go have a look at the victims, George,” he said.

“Anyone ever tell you that you sound a lot like James Earl Jones?” I said.

“All the time.”

“Sorry I mentioned it.”

“I’m used to it.”

THE SMELL IN the living room was pretty bad. “They’ve been dead a while,” I said, stating the obvious.

“That they have,” Clarence said.

The bodies were sprawled on the floor, and the similarity between the murders here and the one in Jacksonville was obvious. Each of them had a small hole where an eye had once been. Technicians were all over the place doing their thing, and we were obviously in the way, so we went outside, where the air was much fresher.

“There’s Jim,” Carl said. He walked over to where Jim was standing on the other side of the tape and took the two bags Jim handed him. Jim took off, and Carl came back to Clarence and me.

“I guess we’re ready to go talk to your bartender admirer, Carl,” I said.

“That’s not funny, boss.”

“Maybe not, Detective,” Clarence said, “but make the most of it, and charm all the information out of him that you can.”

“Carl’s got his hands full,” I said, taking out a small notebook. “Give me the name of your sketch artist, if you will.”

He spelled the name for me, we exchanged business cards, and I said, “We’re booked into the Hampton Inn at I-4 in Altamonte Springs.”

“I live on that side of town,” he said. “Want to get together somewhere for breakfast?”

“Sure.” We agreed on a time and location and left the scene.

I tossed the car keys to Carl, saying, “Take us to your bartender.”

At the Parliament House, Carl parked the cruiser in a no-parking zone right in front, locked the car, and we went inside. He led me to the back bar, where a twentysomething guy, wearing very tight square-cut trunks and little else, was polishing glasses. The guy had obviously been hired for his muscles, of which there were plenty.

He spotted us standing at the bar and came to stand in front of us. “Hi, good-looking,” he said. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He had to go back to Jacksonville,” Carl said. “This is my boss, Lieutenant Martin.”

I shook his hand and ordered a Coke. Carl followed suit. The bartender, whose name tag read ‘Louie,’ set the drinks in front of us.

“On the house,” he said. “Did you find those two drag queens?”

“What he found was a house with two dead bodies in it,” I said.

“No s**t?” Louie said. “Was it them?”

“Probably,” I said. “They each took a bullet to the head, just like our murdered drag queen in Jacksonville.”

“Poor old Madame Dixie,” he said. “She’s been through here a few times and was always a class act.”

“Anyhow, Louie,” Carl said, “you’re the only person we know who has seen Tommy, aka Miss Tomasina, in street clothes, as well as the guy who was looking for him. We’d like to pick you up tomorrow morning at nine thirty and take you downtown to talk to a sketch artist.”

“No problem,” Louie said. “I liked those two queens, and they were always nice to me.”

“Will it bother you if we pick you up in a Jacksonville police car?” I said.

“s**t, no. There’s a bunch of nosy old farts in my neighborhood. That’ll give the old busybodies something to talk about.”

“Give Carl your address,” I said, “and directions.”

“It’s easy,” he said. “I live just a couple of blocks from where those two queens lived.” He gave Carl the address and phone number.

“The local cops will probably be around tomorrow,” I said, “and they’re going to want to talk to anybody who might have talked to Tommy. We think he’s probably making the rounds participating in talent contests, and we’d like to get one step ahead of him, if we can.”

“I’ll sleep on that between now and tomorrow,” Louie said. He looked from Carl to me and said, “Damn, I like blonds almost as much as I do redheads.”

“Sorry, guy,” I said, “but I’m very much spoken for.”

“The good ones nearly always are,” he said, and sighed.

“By the way,” I said, “do you think anybody might have filmed the talent contest Friday night?”

“They usually do, let me ask.”

He walked to the far end of the bar, knocked on a small door, and ducked through it. A couple of minutes later, he appeared again and waved us over. We followed him through the door, and he introduced us to the manager, an older man named Manny Bauer.

“Is it true about Pixie and Trixie?” he said.

“I’m afraid so,” I said. “We don’t have positive identification, but the two dead guys were found in their living room.”

“That’s too bad. Louie asked about a tape?”

“We’d like to get a copy of any tape you might have of last Friday’s talent contest,” I said.

“How about a DVD?”

“That would be even better.”

He went to a file cabinet, opened a drawer, and rummaged around for a minute. He retrieved a DVD, said, “Voila,” and handed it to me.

“Thanks. I’ll make sure you get it back.”

“No need for that, it’s just a copy.”

“Do the contestants fill out any paperwork, giving their names and addresses?”

“We don’t bother with that unless they win. If we kept a file on all the hopeful drag queens that come through here, we’d have to add on a room just to store them. I have the first-place winner’s names and contact information in a database in my computer, and that’s about it.”

We thanked him again and went back to the bar, where Louie was busily serving drinks to his customers.

“Thanks again, Louie,” I said. “Carl and I will pick you up at nine thirty.”

“I’m always ready to be picked up by two handsome men,” he said, “with or without sex.”