Murder Times Four Box Set

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

A week passed. Life got back to normal. Or as normal as it could be, considering no one had been arrested for Jake’s murder. Detective Irvin came by to interview me one more time, but from the tone of his questions, he was just gathering information, not trying to keep me in the picture as a prime person of interest anymore.

Tuesday night, after Tyler finished rehearsals for his next show at the Playhouse, he and I headed to the studio. Separately, of course, but arriving right on schedule for the next film he was in—and I was shooting. I wasn’t the only cameraman. I was just the one who did the close-ups. And I don’t mean of his face.

In one respect, it was a damned good thing we were both there, in front of a lot of other people for the majority of the time. We found that out when we got back to the Lane around one A.M.

The first thing I saw as I turned the corner off of Pinecrest was police cars. And an ambulance. And a CSI van. They were all parked in front of Owen’s house. I was out of the car and heading there as fast as possible. Tyler arrived moments later. He didn’t even bother to pull into his driveway—slamming to a stop in front of his place then dashing to catch up with me.

“This hadn’t better be what it looks like,” Tyler said, grabbing my shoulder to pull me to a stop before we got to the crime scene tape across Owen’s front lawn.

I scrubbed a hand over my face, muttering, “Let’s hope not. But I’m not taking any bets. There wouldn’t be CSI people here if he fell down stairs, or had a heart attack, or something.”

We moved closer, saw Brent, Chase, and Reed, and joined them.

“Is this what we think?” Tyler asked them.

Brent nodded. “Ginger got up to get a drink of water, she said. She saw a light on in Owen’s dining room. Then shadows on the curtains.” He swallowed hard.

Chase took up the story. “It looked like two men struggling so she called the cops, and sent Mick over to investigate. He found the back door open. I guess he went in long enough to find Owen sprawled on the dining room floor with a knife in his chest.”

“Good God,” I said. “Did either of them see who killed him?”

“Not that we’ve heard. The cops got here damned fast, but it was too late.”

“What the hell is going on?”

Brent said fearfully, “I wish we knew. First Jake. Now Owen. Has someone started a vendetta against us?”

“Why would they?” Reed asked, coming up in time to hear Brent’s question.

“Three guesses,” Tyler replied angrily.

Reed looked puzzled, momentarily, then said, “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh is right.”

“Gentlemen,” a man who looked official said, walking up to us. “I’m Detective Jarrett.” He lifted the crime scene tape, beckoning for us to join him. I realized why when media people started arriving. The detective took us to the side of Owen’s house, out of view of the cameras, before continuing. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, starting with your names and addresses.”

“Where’s Detective Irvin?” Brent asked him.

“On sick leave.” The detective didn’t elaborate as he took out his notebook. We gave him our names and told him which houses were ours. Then he said, “Did any of you see anything?”

“Not me,” Reed replied. “I was in bed. The sirens woke me and…” He spread his hands.

“Same here,” Brent told Jarrett.

“I arrived home from work around midnight,” Chase said. “I work at City General. In the ER,” he added when Jarrett c****d his head in question. “I did notice lights on in Owen’s place, but that wasn’t too unusual. He’s a night owl. Was a night owl,” he amended with a sigh. “Other than that, I didn’t see anything that might help.”

“And you two?” Jarrett asked, looking at me and Tyler.

Tyler c****d an eyebrow at me. I shrugged and said, “We were working on a shoot for Piquant Films.”

Without batting an eye, Jarrett said, “I thought you looked familiar, Mr. Sanders.”

I heard Brent and Chase snicker. Reed, who was standing where I could see him, seemed puzzled, so I said, “The company does gay porn. Tyler’s one of their stars. I’m a cameraman.” Returning my attention to Jarrett, I said, “You’ve actually watched some of them?”

He chuckled. “I could say I have, for research purposes. Back to why I’m here, however. To the best of your knowledge did the victim, Owen Parker, have any enemies?”

“Not around here, if that’s what you’re asking,” Brent told him. “Otherwise? He never said anything to me about someone who might be giving him grief.”

“You were friends?” Jarrett asked him.

Brent nodded. “We’re all friends. And before you ask, nothing more.”

Jarrett looked at me. “From what I understand, that’s not quite true. You and the first victim, Jake Wright, were involved at one time.”

“Very briefly. Before I broke it off.”

Chase said, “It’s not that it’s against the rules, or anything like that. It’s more a case that, of the seven…okay, five now.” His expression darkened. “None of us who are single have connected on that level. Other than, as Adam said, him and Jake, for a short time. Of the rest of us, meaning the gay men, one couple is married and Eliot and Frank are in a committed relationship.”

“I know,” Jarrett replied. “They’re next on my list of people I need to talk with, along with the Dunns. I understand the Dunns’ son lives with them. Is he gay?”

“Hell if we know,” Tyler said. “He’s hardly ever around, since he goes to college out of town. If he is, he’s keeping it to himself.”

“Next question,” Jarrett said. “Have any of you seen anyone around who doesn’t live here, other than the usual, like the mailman or delivery people?”

All of us shook our heads, except Reed, who said, “Just as I got home tonight, I saw a repair truck going around there.” He pointed to the turnaround circle.

“Phone or electric?” Jarrett asked.

“Cable company, I think, but I didn’t check it out so I’m not sure. It was white, with a logo on the door.”

“Did any of you call for repairs on something?”

Again, we all shook our heads, so Jarrett said, “If you think of anything else, please get in contact with me.” He handed out cards before walking away. From the direction he was heading, I figured he was going to interview the Dunns—if he could avoid the reporters.

“I suggest we take backyard routes home,” Brent said. “Unless—” he grinned at Tyler “—you want your face in a different kind of film from what you were making tonight.”

Tyler laughed. “I think I’ll pass. Come on, Reed, let’s do our imitation of super spies and sneak past the news vultures.”

Brent, Chase, and I went in the opposite direction, slipping through the dark behind the houses until we got to Chase’s. By then it was close to two, and I was exhausted. Unfortunately, I was also hyped. “Anyone feel like a beer?”

“I could use one,” Brent replied. Chase said he could, too, so we went to my place, then into my kitchen by the back door.

After handing each of them a bottle, and taking one for myself, I said to Brent, “Do you really think someone is after us?”

“I sure as f**k hope not,” he replied. “But it’s a hell of a coincidence that Jake and Owen were murdered within a week of each other.”

“I agree,” Chase said. “Right now, I’m seriously thinking about getting some sort of security for my place.”

I nodded. “That might not be a bad idea. For now, though, I’m glad I have AC, because I’m keeping all my doors and windows closed and locked. And for sure I’m not letting anyone in I don’t know personally.”

“If Detective Irvin was right,” Brent said, “whoever killed Jake was already inside when Jake got home. I wonder if he found out how that happened.”

“There was nothing on the news about it,” I said. I smiled dryly. “And I’d know.”

“He’s probably doing that ‘hold back’ thing. To filter out the crazies who confess to crimes for the notoriety.”

“If someone is after us, meaning those of us who live on the Lane,” Chase said pensively, “why make it obvious by killing us here? He could get to any of us where we work, or…what have you.”

“It would still tie back to here,” I pointed out. “Well, it will if he goes after someone else. Right now, with only two, it could just be coincidence.”

“Hell of a coincidence,” Brent said. “But, yeah, I guess it could be. When Jake’s murder hit the news, one of the asswipe reporters made it a point of calling Rainbow Lane a gay community. If some whack job decided he could take out his hatred of gays by killing another one of us on our home turf…”

Chase snorted out a laugh. “Have you been hanging on the streets, Brent?”

“What? Oh.” He chuckled. “I’m not sure where I picked up those words, but they work. That doesn’t make my point less valid.”

“Let’s just hope you’re right,” I said, taking a swig of beer. “Even if you are, we’d all better be on high alert for a while. If we get through the next couple of weeks and nothing else happens, then we can relax again.”