Scott Maxwell ordered a rum and coke from the bartender. His older brother had once again shown his ass. Robert promised Scott tonight would be different. This was, after all, the only twenty-first birthday Scott would ever have. After the big two one, a birthday simply marks the passage of time, as one inches closer to the grave…
Scott spent way too much money on new clothes today; purchasing a white sweater, a black turtleneck and a new pair of Tommy jeans to celebrate. He had shorn his shoulder length, dark brown hair military-style short to show how serious he was about “officially” becoming an adult. He’d even grown a goatee although it hadn’t completely filled in. Scott had always been “wise beyond his years” as his mother used to tell him, but no one really took him seriously because he was still officially “a kid”. The biggest point of contention? There were actually two, the first being Scott’s career plans.
“I think I’m gonna study Photography at Hughes Hill College,” he told Robert after his graduation from Hughes Hill High.
“Scotty, what the hell are you talking about?” Robert admonished, sipping from his beer bottle. “You don’t have a clue what you want. Talk to me in a couple years when you’re not so... young. You’ll change your mind. Maybe be a lawyer or something...”
“Rob, I don’t want to be a lawyer! All they do is sit around in court all day and yell at each other. I want to be outside. I want to record life. I want to capture the moments that make history. When I see a beautiful sunset, the first thing I think about is my camera. I want to capture the beauty in this world and preserve it. And I’m good at it too; my teacher says that she sees potential in me. She says...”
“Look Scotty, I don’t want to bust your bubble --- but you’re only eighteen years old. Do you really think you can make a good life for yourself by taking snapshots? It ain’t gonna happen.”
Majoring in Photojournalism at Hughes Hill, Scott earned a 4.0 grade point average for his tenacity. He was rewarded with a highly coveted internship at the Evanston Herald. He was so talented they already made him an offer to start in the fall as a Junior Photographer!
Meanwhile, Robert had simply watched. Not once did he admit that he may have been wrong. Scott hoped that his brother would finally come around. And for a long time, it seemed as if he had. But then, not long after Scott left home for the dorms, the other shoe dropped. Scott finally told Robert his big “secret”: he was gay! Bone of contention, the second…
“You’re what?”
“I’m gay.”
“Ha fucking ha!”
“Robert. I’m serious.”
“You mean, you actually think you’re a... I mean, you’re... NO! I won’t have it! No brother of mine could be... that!”
“Oh, grow up! I am a homosexual. I don’t know why you give a damn.”
“Scott, I refuse to talk about this anymore. Don’t bring this shit up again! ”
After that, the brothers rarely spoke. Months passed, and Scott saw Robert only during special family dinners and at holidays. Scott recalled had brought his new boyfriend, Todd McAllister home to meet her, Scott didn’t know what to expect. Robert was there, but said nothing. Strangely, after Todd broke it off, Robert came by to make peace. Neither of them broached the subject again.
Scott was shocked when Robert offered to take him to the Harbour, THE local gay dance club, for his twenty-first. He was thrilled, though a bit wary, of his brother’s gesture. But maybe the two of them could finally put everything behind them, if only for Mom’s sake.
Scott had always been close to his mother. Janice Maxwell was his best friend and sometimes confidant. She had served the role of both mother and father figure after Dad died. When Scott told her he was gay, she simply smiled and nodded knowingly. They talked about everything, including Todd. In fact, if not for his Mother, Scott would have gone insane when Todd left him. Scott told himself that she probably coerced Robert into this. That was the most logical explanation. She had always tried to be the peacemaker.
The brothers had agreed to meet at seven that evening in Scott’s dorm room at Hughes Hill. They would go have a nice dinner and from there they would go to the Harbour. But at six-thirty, Robert called and said that he still had one more client to meet with at Garrington’s, the advertising studio where he held the position of Senior Art Director. He suggested that Scott eat without him and take a cab to the bar. He would join him as soon as his meeting was over. Scott assumed Robert would meet him by eight-thirty or nine.
But when the clock struck nine, Scott wasn’t really surprised that his brother hadn’t yet arrived. After all, those artistic types tended to be long-winded. Todd was a painter and would go on for hours after they had made love talking about colors, shades and landscapes. As a photographer, Scott had similar feelings, but it was hardly the same passion. Only Todd himself managed to inspire such passion in him. If only he were here now.
They had been together on his last birthday. Todd had surprised Scott with a cake and dinner with both their mothers. He remembered making love to Todd that night...
“Happy Birthday, Scott,” Todd had said afterward.
“Thank you,” Scott answered. “Tonight was wonderful. I love you more now than I ever thought possible. This has been the best night of my life.”
“I love you too. And I swear to you that I will always be with you.”
“Always?”
“And forever,” Todd reached across the bed and began kissing him again...
Always and forever apparently didn’t have to same meaning to Todd as it did to anyone else.
Enough, he thought to himself. Todd was part of his past. Today was the beginning of a new chapter in his life. He’d be damned if memories would keep him from having the a new best night of his life. He excused himself from the barstool and made his way to the restroom.
Once inside, he looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. Just over a year ago, Scott had weighed 230 pounds. Now, after six months of dieting and exercise, Scott was down to an impressive 180. At 5’11”, he carried the remaining weight very well. His face was still a bit pudgy but everyone told him it was cute, especially when he smiled and his dimples showed. He felt really good about his appearance for the first time in years. He ran his fingers through his newly shorn hair, exited the bathroom and returned to the familiar barstool.
*** Morgan Cramer pulled the shudders of his two-story townhouse apartment closed. He loved the night. It was a magical time for him, a time when anything could happen. Morgan always wrote his best material while surrounded by the unyielding darkness, with only a dim glow from his desk lamp to guide him.
Morgan switched his computer on and lit a cigarette as he waited for it to boot up. Tonight, he would begin his great masterpiece. He inhaled deeply, and blew the smoke out as he placed the cigarette in the glass ashtray next to his CPU. Staring at the screen intently, he decided to check his e-mail. He placed the cursor over the familiar icon of United Online and double-clicked the mouse.
Once the painfully long process of connecting to United Online was completed, Morgan immediately went to check his mail. No new messages. Dejected, he decided to check out the chat rooms. He found “Evanston M4M” and waited anxiously.
Morgan had been a member of United Online for a little over six months. He had been surprised that the sleepy little town of Evanston had enough homosexuals to support a M4M, or male for male, chat room. But he had made several friends and even a handful of sexual partners in the short time he had been a member.
As he went into the room, he searched the list of “names” of people that were currently logged on. His best friend, Ryan, was online. Ryan used the nickname “Rye101.” . Morgan’s was “WriteStuff”. Morgan quickly sent Ryan a Quick Message...
“Hey! What’s up?” he typed. As he waited for a response, he berated himself for being on-line when he should be writing.
“Not much.” The screen lit up. “It’s been pretty slow in here tonight.” Morgan smiled. That meant that no one had tried to pick Ryan up yet. He wouldn’t know what to do if he couldn’t be on the prowl for meaningless sexual encounters. Not that Morgan was a prude. He had more that his share of one night stands. But Ryan lived for them. Morgan sometimes thought his buddy was actually addicted to sex...
Before Morgan could respond, he received another message from Ryan.
“Maybe I spoke too soon about nothing going on. Check out ‘Number 1’ in the main room.”
Morgan looked at the main chat room and let out a slight gasp. Number 1 was addressing the whole room...
“SOON YOU WILL ALL COME TO KNOW ME. All of your will feel my deadly touch. But for tonight, I will choose 1. He will be the first, my CHOSEN ONES.”
Underneath Number 1’s announcement, came a flurry of jokes and quick responses. Everyone in the room was treating it as a joke. But he did manage to get things going. Morgan didn’t think it was funny at all. Something felt very wrong. He sent another message to Ryan.
“What’s up with this Number 1?,” Morgan typed.
“I don’t know but I think he’s kinda sexy.” Ryan quickly responded. “You know I like those dangerous types.”
Figures.
Deciding that he wasn’t in the mood to talk any longer, Morgan quickly said his good-byes, saving the conversation onto his hard drive as he always did, and logged off the service. He tried unsuccessfully to start working on his book, but after a few failed attempts, decided that his heart just wasn’t in it. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling inside. Something just wasn’t right. Morgan turned on the television anticipating a night of cold pizza and bad television. No matter what he did though, his thoughts returned to Number 1...
Suddenly the night didn’t seem all that safe. ***
[ January 11, 2004, 01:53 PM: Message edited by: Danny Blaine ]
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
Scott looked around the Harbour. He was amazed at the care taken in the interior of the bar. In the center of the large room was an enormous dance floor that was barren, considering the early hour. He could only imagine how exciting it must be when the room is full of men moving around each other to the beat of whatever popular song was playing. He couldn’t wait to get out there and dance the night away.
The Harbour was fairly typical of the teenage clubs he had gone to with the obvious exception of alcohol . There were two bars at opposite ends of the large room, a wall of television sets displaying the Video of “Me Against the Music” by Brittney Spears, and advertisements on the walls for upcoming events. There was a concert that Scott wanted to attend in January.
There weren’t a lot of people in the club, due to the early hour. In a way, Scott felt he had the whole place to himself. Happy Birthday, he thought...
One hour and three rum and cokes later, Scott began to doubt that Robert would show. He was vaguely aware that his current favorite song, “Love Profusion” by Madonna had come on. Deep down, he knew that Robert wouldn’t let him down. He was probably just dawdling because he really didn’t want to go to a gay bar. The one time Robert actually bothered to talk to Scotty about it, Robert had said he didn’t understand why Scott had chosen to be gay. Scott tried to convince him that being gay wasn’t something he had any say in. It was like having blue eyes or blonde hair. Sure, you could wear tinted contacts or hair dye, but underneath it all the true colors were still there. He tried to make Robert understand that he couldn’t turn his feelings off on a whim. Robert changed the subject. Hopefully, someday Robert would get it.
Looking around again, Scott eyed the bartender dancing around the bar while getting drinks for a couple of guys who sat across the bar. He smiled, amused at the bartenders’ antics, and motioned for another drink as soon as he was finished with his new customers. Finally, the bartender returned to Scott. He smiled warmly.
“Are you sure you want another one? I mean, I know it’s your birthday and all, but you’re guzzling these things like water,” the bartender said his voice tinted with concern. He had long dark hair, almost ebony, and green eyes. He was a little chubby, but Scott thought that made him look better, more... real.
“I’m fine, uh...” he realized that he didn’t know the bartender’s name.
“The name’s Marcus,” he replied, “and I won’t harp on you any more. Unless you get out of hand, of course. After all, I’m not your mother.”
“No, you aren’t. But I do appreciate the concern. By the way, my name’s Scott.”
“Nice to meet you, Scott,” Marcus said as he handed Scott his drink. “Enjoy.”
Scott felt the alcohol clouding his thoughts. He noticed Marcus watching him and smiled reassuringly. He wasn’t nearly as confident as he hoped he looked. He felt very wobbly. Looking at Marcus reminded Scott of Todd. They had similar features, although Todd had been much trimmer that the pudgy bartender.
“Bartender’s a nice guy,” came a voice from behind. Scott turned around, expecting to see Robert but was instead faced with a complete stranger. The stranger mesmerized Scott with his blonde hair and pale, almost ghostlike features. He couldn’t help but stare. What a beautiful man he was!
“Yeah, he seems to be,” Scott answered. What a well though out response, Scott chided himself. Might as well have said, “I’m an idiot.” Something about this guy was making him very nervous. Or maybe it was the alcohol? No, it was definitely the stranger...
“He’s very protective of his customers, though. Especially the good-looking younger ones like yourself.”
“I see.” Scott face felt hot. The stranger thought he was good looking! He wondered what he should do next. Should he buy the man a drink and flirt shamelessly? Should he sit demurely and wait for the dark stranger to make a move? Should he walk away from this before things went too far? What next?
“I mean, you can tell the bartender likes you, right? You had to have noticed the way he looks at you.” The dark man inched closer, never taking his eyes off Scott.
“Yeah, I guess I did.” He lied. Scott really hadn’t paid that much attention and really didn’t care at this point. He felt so good! He stared down at his drink as the song changed to another he didn’t recognize. He looked up and saw that Marcus and the stranger were both staring at him from different angles. He felt a sudden chill. What was that old phrase Momma used to use? Something about walking over my grave?
Marcus lingered a couple seconds more before returning to greet a couple of new arrivals. Scott downed the last of his drink, slamming the glass so hard against the bar he thought it might break. The stranger took the seat next to Scott’s and ordered a draft beer. The silence between them was becoming more uncomfortable with every passing second. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, “I didn’t catch your name. Mine’s Scott.” He put out his hand.
“Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to be so rude. My name’s Janus.” He took Scott’s hand and shook it, holding it a few seconds longer than necessary. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before.”
“I’ve ah, I’ve been out of town for a while.” Scott lied, not wanting the stranger to know his age.
“Really, then welcome back. Y’know, I really like this song. Would you care to dance with me?”
“Sure, I guess so, but...” Scott remembered that Robert was supposed to be there soon. He decided against telling Janus about his older brother. It might scare him off. Who wants to date someone whose older brother has to come to the bar and “baby-sit” him? He stood up, wobbling as the alcohol took effect. His feet almost gave way beneath him. Janus held him up, steadying him. After a few seconds, the dizziness subsided and Scott allowed Janus to lead him to the dance floor.
By now, there were several people on the floor moving to the heavy, driving beat. The music surrounded Scott. The lights were flashing and they enhanced his buzz. He began to move to the heavy bass line of the song. Everything vanished for Scott except Janus and the music. When Janus placed his arms around Scott’s waist, he could barely contain his excitement. They drew closer and closer as they moved as one to the beat. Scott couldn’t remember ever feeling so alive. Not even when he was with Todd.
After he danced so long he could barely stand, Scott led Janus back toward the bar. How long had they been dancing? It felt like hours. “That was great,” he gushed. He wiped the sweat from his brow. “I didn’t realize how hot it was in here.”
“Getting crowded, too.” Janus agreed, putting his arm around Scott. “Do you have somewhere... more private we could go?”
“Uhhh, I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” He smiled briefly, flashing his pearly whites, then raced to the bathroom. He made his way to one of the toilet stalls and felt his stomach erupt in a violent frenzy. He gagged as the taste of the alcohol returned to his dry mouth. This agonizing process continued for several seconds until Scott was sure that his stomach was now completely empty of any matter whatsoever. He flushed the toilet and returned to the mirror he looked into so proudly earlier.
He was anything but proud of himself now, as he stared at himself. His hair and clothes were disheveled and his eyes bloodshot. His insides felt raw and empty and his head was fuzzy. Why would anyone want to do this to himself? And now, a complete stranger named Janus wants to go home with me. What a mess. If only Robert had been here when he was supposed to be.
He washed his face and wetted down his hair until he thought he looked somewhat presentable. But now what? He had to go out there and give Janus an answer. He thought about sneaking out of the bar and just going home, but how would he get there? Robert was his ride...
Dammit, where was Robert?
Scott looked up at the mirror and gasped. He saw Todd standing behind him! What the hell was he doing here? For a moment, his memories hit him hard. He remembered every kiss, every touch... everything. All the times they shared seemed like yesterday. He forgot about the fights and misunderstandings. Todd was here! Everything was going to be OK! He smiled, and turned around to face him.
He turned around and no one was there. The alcohol must be playing tricks on me, he thought. Anyway, there was no way Todd could be there. He had always hated bars: there was no way he’d be at the Harbour. And anyway, who cares. Janus was there and he was ready to go...
Scott returned to the barstool and placed his arm around Janus. Janus was smoking a cigarette and offered Scott one. He accepted and Janus lit it for him. Scott took a deep drag and blew the smoke quickly from his nose. “So, are you ready to go?” he asked.
“You mean you want to?”
“Sure. Why not? My dorm room’s empty and the campus over at Hughes Hill is practically bare this weekend.” He took another drag off the cigarette. He noticed that Marcus was studying them from across the bar. He smiled at the bartender and returned his attention to Janus. He was going to have fun...
“Are you sure about this?” Janus asked, his eyes piercing through Scott’s very being. He looked so gentle, so caring. But at the same time, there was something dark boiling below the surface. It was the darkness that Scott wanted to access.
“I’m sure. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Lead on.” Janus left a couple dollar bills on the bar. Scott hadn’t even thought about a tip but was relieved and even touched somehow that Janus took care of it for them.
[ December 06, 2003, 02:47 PM: Message edited by: Danny Blaine ]
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
The drive to campus was filled mostly with silence. Scott turned on the radio so that neither one of them would feel they had to say something. The campus was only ten minutes away by car so the drive was mercifully short. Reality had once again set in for Scott since they had left the bar. After all, picking up a strange man in a bar wasn’t the safest thing to do these days. And what the hell kind of name was Janus anyway?
When they arrived at campus, Scott directed Janus to park in the visitor’s lot and led him to his dorm room in Moreland Hall. As they walked into his room, there was a faint scent of cologne hanging in the air. Scott took off his shirt and motioned for Janus to sit on his bed. Scott sat beside Janus and placed his hand on his leg. God, it felt so good to be touched by a man again.
“They say a girl committed suicide that lived in this room last year. No girl wanted to live in here after that, so they made this the men’s floor. Actually, hardly any guys want to live here either. Which is why I have no roommate. I think it adds a bit of mystery to the room.”
“I see. Tell me, how did she die?” If Scott didn’t know better, he would swear that Janus’ eyes lit up at the mention of the word ‘suicide’. But then, he really didn’t know better, did he? Who was this guy?
“I - I’m not really sure. I think she took an overdose of pills or something. Other than that, I don’t have many details. I lived across campus then.”
“All right,” Janus said, seemingly agitated. The features of his face seemed to contort to an almost frightening visage. But then, as quickly as the look came over Janus, it vanished. He smiled and pulled Scott closer. “Have I told you that you look really hot tonight?”
“Thank you,” Scott replied, blushing again. “I did dress up a little. Today’s my birthday.”
“Why didn’t you say something before? Happy Birthday. I guess that means I should give you a present.” Janus reached over and pulled Scott into a kiss. It was a long and lingering kiss. Scott could feel the warmth from Janus’ probing tongue. Soon, Janus and was massaging his chest and roughly pinching his nipples. Scott’s hard-on became all too noticeable as it bulged against his jeans. Janus noticed too and smiled as he unbuttoned Scott’s button-flys and roughly tore the jeans to Scott’s ankles. Janus knelt to meet the erection and Scott tumbled into a world of both fear and ecstasy. The moist warmth of Janus’ mouth caressing his hard-on made Scott writhe in ecstasy. His muscles tensed as he slowly inched toward the all-important climactic moment. Finally, after he could stand it no longer, Scott came. Todd had never made him feel like this!. The danger of it all added to the pleasure.
“Thank you so much,” Scott told Janus as soon as he caught his breath. “You have done more for me than you will ever know. Would you like me to return the favor?”
“No. I get my pleasure in other ways.”
“What do you mean?” He asked, surprised. He had just had sex with a complete stranger. The only thing he knew was his name. And what the hell kind of stupid name was Janus, anyway? Scott shuddered as he saw Janus undoing the buckle on his pants. Realization dawned on him. A sick feeling came over him. “Oh, I don’t think we should do that. I mean, we don’t know each other that well and...”
Suddenly, Janus was on top of him, forcing him to the floor. He hit his head on the bedpost as he fell. He felt a sharp pain as Janus entered him and his world went black...
***
Janice Maxwell knocked on her son’s door. She had a large bag in one arm and a set of keys in the other. It was so sweet of Robert to take Scotty out tonight, she thought. And while they were gone, she would decorate Scotty’s room! Wouldn’t he be surprised? When no one answered, she smiled and turned the doorknob. That’s strange, she thought. Why didn’t he lock it? He must’ve been excited about going out. She opened the door and walked in. She could still smell Scott’s cologne in the air but there was another scent as well. Something she had smelled before but couldn’t place her finger on where.
She walked inside, groping for the lamp. She stepped on something wet, and immediately moved her foot. Scott must have spilled a soda or something. Those kids were always making one mess or another. Like that time Scotty and Robert decided to make scrambled eggs on the sofa. Those were the days. Although raising the boys without a father was never easy, she had managed and pretty well too. Both of them came out great. She had to wonder, was the fact that Scotty didn’t have a father around the reason he turned out the way he did? No, she rebuked herself, Robert didn’t have a father either and he isn’t gay. No, it was just one of those things...
She found the lamp and turned it on. She looked to see what is was she had been stepping in and stopped. It was a very deep red, almost brown in some places. She panicked, knowing what it looked like. No, it couldn’t be THAT. It’s gotta be paint or something. She was shaking as she moved toward the bathroom, dropping the bag she had brought in with her. She turned on the light and was relieved it was empty. Thank God, she thought.
She returned to the outer room and sat on the edge of the unmade bed. She had to calm down. Scotty was at the bar with Robert. Everything was fine. It was paint or something on the floor. It had to be. Maybe Todd had come back to Scotty and did a painting. Wouldn’t that just be the best birthday present ever? She sat for a moment collecting her thoughts when she felt someone watching her.
“Mom?,” came a voice.
“Scotty?” she hoped.
“Guess again.”
“Robert?” Robert looked very similar to Scott except that he was more muscular and had darker hair. Both of her son’s were good looking and she was very proud of that. “What are you doing here? I thought you and Scotty were going out tonight?”
“Well, I was with a client and it took forever. I tried to call but I got no answer. I told him to go without me. I just dropped by here on my way to make sure....” He noticed the stain on the floor. “Mom? What the hell is that?”
“I thought it was paint or something. I don’t know.”
“That isn’t paint, mom.”
She sat there and nodded her head. She knew, deep down she had known all along. She leaned back on the bed and felt something hard against her back. Startled, she jumped into Robert arms and screamed. She turned and faced the bed. There was a hand protruding from the jumbled mess of sheets. There was something in the hand but she couldn’t make it out through the tears.
Robert removed the comforter and stood, dumbfounded. He tore off the sheets. The sight of his brother Scott’s lifeless body in a heap jolted him into a world without sense. He couldn’t hear his mother’s screams. He couldn’t feel her weeping face buried against his chest. Robert Maxwell was empty. And nothing in the world was going to be the same again. He screamed...
[ December 06, 2003, 03:01 PM: Message edited by: Danny Blaine ]
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
From: here, more often than not | Registered: Sep 2003
| IP: Logged |
One week after Scott Maxwell’s funeral, Robert walked out of the Silver Bullet Bar arm in arm with a red-haired girl of about twenty-five. She was moderately attractive with her pretty face and average build. She had nice tits. Robert thought that she said her name was Suzanne. It didn’t really matter, anyway. He’d never see her after tonight. Last night it had been Meg, the night before Jenny and on and on and on. He kept hoping that something would take away the emptiness inside. And for a couple of hours, something did.
They walked down the block to the Sundown Hotel where he’d become a regular over the past week. The clerk smiled as Robert paid for the room. He could take the girls back to his place on the East Side but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to do that. It didn’t seem right. Another young woman entered behind him, a brunette. He noticed at once how pretty she was. So did the redhead with the tits.
“Excuse me, Robby. Our room is ready. Let’s go.”
“Oh, okay, sorry, hon. Let’s do it.” He smiled and shrugged at the brunette. Then he returned his attention to Suzanne. He picked her up over his shoulder and carried her through the hallway. They came to the room numbered 103. He unlocked the door and they went in. Robert slammed the door shut behind them. He dropped Suzanne roughly onto the bed. She giggled as he took of his pants and began kissing her. He reached over for the bottle he had stashed in his trench coat pocket and took a large swig. Most of it missed his mouth and landed in Suzanne’s hair. She took the bottle from him and downed the rest. She took off her top and bra and moved closer as she returned his kisses. He unbuttoned her pants and she slowly slipped them the rest of the way off... ***
“That was great,” Suzanne enthused. “Best I’ve had in a while...”
“Hmmm.” Robert grunted, lighting a cigarette. Why won’t she shut up? God, why does she have to drone on and on? He prayed that she would just stop talking for a couple minutes. But then something happened to her voice. It grew deeper and strangely masculine. It was a voice Robert knew very well...
No longer was he talking to the red-haired woman he picked up at the Silver Bullet. In her place was Scotty!
“Why did you let me die?”
“Scotty??? I-I didn’t mean to. I mean, I was on my way,” Robert choked.
“You kept putting it off, didn’t you? You didn’t want to be seen in that fag bar! Admit it!”
“No, that’s not the way it was, I swear it! The client, Thompson was his name, he was late and then he kept wanting to talk more. I had to make that sale. I had to convince him, Scotty, it’s my job. I’m so sorry, this shouldn’t have happened to you. I should have been there.”
“Excuses.”
“No, I swear I’ll find whoever did this. You won’t go unavenged...”
“You don’t have it in you. I may have been the fag, but you were the pansy! Look at you, you’re a pathetic mess. Booze and women, like that’s gonna help me now. Good going, Robert. You Fuck-up!”
Robert jumped up. Suzanne was still talking about nothing. He must have dozed off for a second. He stared disgustedly at the naked woman beside him. This was all wrong. He wasn’t going to feel any kind of peace until Scotty’s killer was found. Maybe not even then. Having sex with a different woman every night wasn’t helping. Neither was getting drunk. No, he had to find the person who killed his brother. He rolled over and looked at Suzanne. She had been a great lay...
“Get out.”
“What did you say?”
“I said get out.” He handed her a ten- dollar bill. “This should cover your cab fair.”
“Are you serious? What kind of shit is this? You fuckin’ prick!”
“Whatever, just go on. Get outta here. I’ve got some thinking to do.”
Suzanne mumbled some choice expletives as she retrieved her clothes. Finally, after she had gone on for a full fifteen minutes about what a jerk Robert was, she slammed the door in a huff. Almost immediately, he heard a knock on the door. He sighed. So much for peace and quiet.
“Did you forget somethin’, Suzanne?” he stammered. “Come on in and get whatever it was.”
No one opened the door. Then, another knock
“Suzanne, are you deaf? I don’t have time for this shit.” Still no response. He groped for his boxers and fumbled to put them on as he staggered to the door. He opened it. But Suzanne wasn’t at the other side. It was the brunette that he saw earlier in the lobby. She smiled brightly. “Who the hell are you?”
She was beautiful with her long brown hair and ballerina’s figure. Her eyes were blue and her face without blemish. She wore very little make-up; only a bit of lipstick and blush. She was wearing a dark green blazer with a matching skirt, accented with a multi-colored scarf of Aztec design.
“My name is Kaysie Dupris,” she said simply. Her voice was gravely, reminiscent of Demi Moore’s. She extended her hand. Robert was unsure what to do. He was standing in front of a beautiful woman he didn’t know and he was almost completely naked! Quickly, he took her hand and shook it. He then hurried to the bed and covered himself with one of the crumpled sheets. A bra tumbled to the floor. Robert reached quickly to pick it up, throwing it back behind him. “I’m a reporter for the Evanston Herald.”
“The Herald? What the hell do you want with me?”
“What would you say if I told you I was investigating a local call girl ring?”
“Oh -uh.” Robert stammered. He had just given that twit Suzanne money! What if they were setting him up all along? In his drunken stupor he was easy prey. Of course, the money was only to pay for a cab, but still. “Then I’d ask you what you wanted with me.”
“Relax, Mr. Maxwell. I’m not here to write an expose about your cheap one-night flings. I could care less what you do. Although I would think you could do better than that floozy. But anyway, can I please come in?”
“Su -- sure, uh, make yourself comfortable.”
Kaysie looked at the rumpled bed and then at Robert.
“I’ll stand.”
Robert crossed in front of her. Their eyes locked momentarily until finally Kaysie spoke.
“OK. First, I just want to tell you how sorry I am to hear about what happened to your brother. The last thing I want to do is intrude on your grief, but....”
“My brother? My God, is THAT was this is about? He’s not even cold yet and you’re coming to me wanting an exclusive? Do you have no scruples?”
“Mr. Maxwell, remain calm. Have you forgotten that Scott worked at the paper? He and I were good friends. Believe me, I’m not here to do anything that would hurt you or your family, I can assure you. But I have reason to believe that whoever did this isn’t going to end it with your brother. All I want to do is find him, or her, before it happens again. And yes, a part of me wants revenge for his death.”
“And sell a few million newspapers in the process? And let’s not forget about the movie rights!” His sarcasm hung in the air and a brief and awkward silence followed. They were at a stalemate.
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
Morgan sat at the computer screen. His eyes couldn’t move away from the E-mail he had just received. He read it again.
Dear WriteStuff, I have chosen you because your online biography indicated that you were a gay writer. By now you know that I wasn’t joking the other night in the chat room. I told you that I would strike and I did. The Maxwell boy is now free of the shackles of this world. There will be more to come. You should know that I have taken steps to ensure that I cannot be traced through this service and that I have also taken the time to find out your name and address. (Morgan Cramer; 3211 High Street Apt 3. Do NOT try to stop me or someone YOU love will be next. I have chosen you for a very special task. I want you write down everything I tell you. You will serve as my recorder. But for now, you will tell no one. After I have finished, I want the world to know what I have done. YOU will tell them. Goodbye for now. You WILL hear from me again soon. Maybe even tonight... NUMBER 1
Morgan fumbled for his cigarettes and quickly lit one. He inhaled deeply as he scanned the message for a third time. Jesus, of all the times to be right about something. He had read in the paper about the Maxwell kid but he hadn’t made any connection before. There was no reason to. The papers didn’t say anything about Maxwell being gay. That “Number 1” guy from online did it! He picked up the telephone and dialed a familiar number. There were four rings and the familiar line about how Ryan Womber wasn’t home and to leave a message at the beep.
“Ryan, this is Morgan. Call me as soon as you get in. It’s an emergency.” He hung up the phone and sat alone in silence. *** “Look, no matter what you believe,” Kaysie said, “I’m not in this to get ahead in the newspaper industry. If the paper sells, it sells. That’s all fine and good; but I want to find the person that killed your brother. And that’s the important thing.”
“Tell that to my brother, Miss Dupris. Not that I’m putting stock in anything you say, but why do you think this man will do this again?” Robert was incredulous. How dare this woman intrude on his family like this? Thank God Mom was in Florida. She wouldn’t be able to handle this.
“Well, I know that the Evanston Police found a numeral “1” from Scott’s dorm room door in his right hand.”
“How did you know about that?” Robert remembered seeing something in Scotty’s hand, but at the time he was in no shape to make anything of it. The Police had told him and his mother not to mention it to anyone.
“I have my sources. But they don’t want the press to get hold of it.” She smiled as she spoke and Robert was somewhat comforted by that. “What the pea-brains don’t understand is that I have several sources in the Evanston Police Department. We know lots of things at the Herald. But we don’t always report them. Not because we don’t have the information but because we simply want to help the police however we can.”
“You sound like a damned infomercial,” Robert said flatly.
“Even so,” Kaysie retorted, “I think your brother was killed because he was..,” she stopped. She looked down at the floor as she continued. “Well, because of his lifestyle.” The word “lifestyle” struck Robert. If she meant what he thinks she did....
“Are you saying my brother was killed because he was ...,”
“The politically correct term is homosexual,” Kaysie interrupted.
“Listen, I know Scotty said he was gay. But that was all just a phase. I know it was. Even when he introduced me to that artist guy, I didn’t understand. And you know what, that goddam bastard didn’t even show up at the funeral. And now you are telling me that that’s why he was killed. What the hell kind of people are they?
“Mr. Maxwell... Robert, please calm down. You’re missing the point. Gay people are like everyone else. Some are good and some aren’t.”
“And how would you know, Ms. Kaysie Dupris, know-it-all? Are you gay?”
“That certainly isn’t the issue at hand.” She returned her gaze to Robert. He could tell that she really wasn’t trying to be evasive. But if what she told him was true, Robert had a lot of thinking to do.
“Look, this is a lot for me to take in. I’ll need to think about it. And I’ll need to do it when I’m sober.”
“And dressed, I would hope.” Until that very second, Robert had forgotten that his only covering was a sheet. He could feel his face turning a bit red. He wondered if Kaysie noticed. If she did, she didn’t say anything. She reached for her purse and handed him her card. “Take my card. Call me when you decide you want to help.”
“If I decide,” he corrected.
“If you decide,” she repeated. She got up from the couch and went back toward the door. He smiled slightly. “I really like the sheet.”
“Thanks.” Blood rushed to his face. How embarrassing! “Goodbye Ms. Dupris.”
“Goodbye Mr. Maxwell.”
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
CHAPTER 3 Ryan Womber knocked on Morgan’s door. Finally, Morgan answered. The look on Morgan’s face told a thousand stories. But Ryan couldn’t see a happy ending in any of them. Ryan followed Morgan in his apartment. Without a word, Morgan handed Ryan several pieces of paper.
“What’s this?” Ryan asked. “Is this what you were rambling about on the phone?”
“Read them.” Morgan answered. “I received the last one just a few minutes ago.” Ryan read them all as Morgan paced the room. Finally, he read the last one.
WriteStuff: I realize that you may think I’m a crackpot. If you want proof of my work, go to the Mother of God Cemetery. I think you’ll be quite interested in what you find there. Make sure you tell no one. I’ll know if you did. And they will die. I will spare your other friends for now. After all, you are my muse. I’ll want to see your work soon. I’ll be in touch. Now go.
“Oh my God.” Ryan didn’t know what else to say.
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you into this. He said that...”
“Look, I don’t give a rat’s ass what he said. I’m your best friend. Of course you called me. I don’t regret it for a minute and I won’t no matter what happens.”
“But Ryan, you can’t say anything to anyone or he’ll...”
“I know buddy. Don’t worry. We’re in this together. Besides are you sure that this guy isn’t just some harmless sicko?”
“No. But he seemed to know all the details about Scott Maxwell’s murder.”
“That’s the kid they found in the dorm room, right? Y’know, there’s only one way to find out for sure.”
“You think I should go to Mother of God Cemetery?”
“No, I think we should both go. No way I’m gonna let you do this alone. You may be the writer, but I’m the savvy one.” He grinned. “You need me.”
“I can’t risk it. What if he sees you there?”
“Believe me, I can be inconspicuous. I’ve had to hide from one too many wives that got home earlier than expected.” Morgan smiled at that. Ryan hoped that his attempt to lighten Morgan’s mood would succeed. This was all just too incredible. Thank God I didn’t agree to meet Number 1 that first night. Something told him not to meet that guy.
He remembered the conversation he had with “Number 1” on-line.
“So, how about you make me your first victim,” he had typed.
“What makes you so sure you aren’t already?” The response was quick.
“Point taken. So how about it?”
“Maybe. But don’t worry. I’ll get to everyone.”
“Well, if I can’t be first I don’t wanna be anything. Seeya pal.”
“As you wish, but I will come for you,anyway. Be ready.”
My God, it could have been me! Ryan felt as if he were living on borrowed time. Maybe that’s why he volunteered to help so readily. Besides Morgan was his best friend. If they couldn’t count on each other, what did they have?
“Well, I guess you’re right. Let’s go.” ***
Robert thought that he would have no trouble falling asleep after his encounters with Suzanne and Kaysie. He was drunk and spent. Unfortunately, sleep still eluded him. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought of Kaysie and the things she said. As much as he didn’t want to care that a mass murderer might be on the loose stalking homosexuals, he did. At the very least because of Scotty. But he wondered how he would feel about the whole thing if Scotty hadn’t been killed. Robert knew the answer. He would have said, “It doesn’t have anything to do with me.” And that would have been the end of it.
He tossed and turned for what must have been hours. Finally, Robert shrugged off his sheets and stood up. His aching muscles begged to return to the warm comfort of the bed. His mind, however, was an entirely different matter: Robert found himself unable to focus on any particular thing. Instead, he jumped from one thought to the other without any particular consistency or viscosity. He walked into the bathroom; fumbled for the light switch, finally turned it on and stared at himself long and hard.
“God, I look like Grizzly Adams!” he exclaimed in a tone spliced with anger, disgust and self-pity. He was referring to the week-old scruff that had almost sprouted into a full-grown beard. He hadn’t shaved since the funeral. The girls hadn’t seemed to mind. But enough was enough. He retrieved his suitcase from the bedroom and pulled out a disposable razor and shaving cream...
As he splashed his face, the warm water felt good against his coarse skin. He filled his left hand with shaving cream. In the back of his mind he heard the haunting melody of an old Depeche Mode song. For the life of him he couldn’t remember the words. He wasn’t sure why, but that bothered him.
He returned to the task at hand. He began shaving by placing the razor against his Adam’s apple as he had thousands of times before. But this time something was different. There was a slight pressure against his neck that he had never felt before. At first, he thought it was because the stubble was so thick. He had rarely gone this long without shaving. But then, the pressure turned into something else; it became pain.
Robert looked up into the mirror and gasped. Horrified, he saw his brother standing behind him, pressing the blade further into his neck. Scotty’s grip was like a vise. Blood began to trickle down his chest toward his stomach. Oh God, the blood! Robert’s stomach knotted up.
“Your fault! All your fault!” Scotty said. His voice was garbled and barely audible. Robert shivered as Scotty spoke. The pain, instead of dulling his senses, only served to sharpen them. By now, the blood had formed a large pool on the vanity. “Why didn’t you help me?”
“S-- Sorry,” Robert choked out. The pain was like a fire when he tried to speak. But he had to make Scotty understand. “Sorry.” The word seemed so powerful and yet so completely useless.
“Sorry!” the brother mocked. “Yeah well, I’m dead. You let me die and all you can say is ‘Sorry’? Like I said before. You’re pathetic!”
Robert didn’t have the strength to say anything else. He was blacking out. He embraced the thought. It was nothing more than he deserved. He should have been there that night, he could have put that client off and he knew it. He had been making excuses for himself. But no more. He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting away. He could see a pretty blonde woman beckoning him. She was wearing a white dress and humming that old song. Her voice grew louder. Robert finally remembered the words:
“I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumors But I think that God has a sick sense of humor And when I die, I expect to find him laughing”
The volume of the music increased dramatically. The pain disappeared and Robert slowly opened his eyes. He reached for his throat and was surprisingly found no blood. He shook as he realized that the music was coming from his clock radio. He must have mistakenly set the alarm for 11pm instead of am. It was now 11:07. The warmth from the comforter replaced the sticky heat of his blood. The encounter with Scotty and the razor blade had been nothing but a dream.
He rose out of bed, feeling a sense of deja vu’ as he did, and walked into the bathroom. He still felt he looked like Grizzly Adams but he thought better of shaving for now.
The dream had made him realize one thing, though. He couldn’t do this alone, though. Robert was many things, but a detective he was not. Like it or not, he needed Kaysie Dupris. He found her card and began to dial her number... ***
Janus shut off his computer and sat silently at his desk. Why couldn’t he forget about what happened with that Maxwell boy? The answer was silly really. Because that night was a turning point, and there was no going back now. He had to admit, it was a bit frightening at first, when Scott hit his head. How could he be so damned awkward? He almost blew it. But after that... Well, everything fell into place. It was as if at that moment, all his hopes and plans were made possible. Now he could move forward.
He got up from the chair and walked by a stack of unopened newspapers. Since that night, he hadn’t bothered to read a single one. He was free now, what news could possibly compare to his own? And soon, he would tell everyone. Tonight, he thought, he had come one step closer. It would only be a matter of time...
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
Ryan and Morgan walked through the Mother of God Cemetery. They couldn’t move very fast because they didn’t want to trip over a headstone and alert anyone to their presence. It was so dark that neither one of them could see more than a couple feet in front of them.
“I told you we should have brought a flashlight,” Ryan said. He almost tripped again. “Dammit,” he muttered.
“Shhhh. You know we can’t take that chance, I’m sure there is a security guard around here. The last thing we need is to get caught roaming around in a cemetery in the middle of the night.” Morgan was actually getting into this. But that was hardly a surprise, Ryan mused. After all, Morgan was very imaginative. He probably sees himself as a character in one of those books he’s always talking about writing. Funny thing about Morgan though, he’s always talking about writing. But he never mentions actually working on anything. Why is that?
“I know. I know. But what the hell are we looking for?”
“I’m not sure. You read the same notes I did. He said we’d see evidence of his ‘work’.”
“His ‘work’? Y’know he talking about himself like he’s some kind of...”
“Oh my God,” Morgan interrupted. He pointed straight ahead. Ryan looked forward and gasped.
“Jesus. But that’s --” But then, Ryan saw a light approaching. “Morgan, we’ve got to get the hell outta here. Someone’s comin’.”
No answer.
“Come on, Godammit!”
Still no response.
“That maniac might still be here! We’ve got to go... Now!” He extended his hand to Morgan. “Please, I don’t want to lose you.”
Finally, Morgan snapped out of his stupor. He grabbed Ryan’s hand and together, the two of them ran. Ryan had never run that fast in his life. He prayed that no one saw them. All they could do was hope. ***
The downtown office of the Evanston Herald, located on the corner of Fifth and Roanoke Streets, was the only building left from the 1800’s in the whole city. The city itself had been founded in 1832 and found itself thriving until the so-called “Great Fire of 1926” wiped out almost everything. The Evanston Herald Building, a ten-story high-rise, had minimal damage. Kaysie didn’t really care for the architecture of the building itself, but she was proud to work in a building full of such history. Part of her wished that she’d been around back in those days. Covering the fire could have been the pinnacle of her journalistic career. But of course, back then all the good stories went to men. Until now, reporting entertainment news, she hardly wrote the hard-edged stories she wanted to. Maybe this serial killer story would show that she had what it takes. And Scott was a great guy, he didn’t deserve this. She remembered the day she met him...
“Ms. Dupris, do you have a minute?”
“Uh sure,” she had said. “What’s up, uh--”
“I’m sorry, my name’s Scott Maxwell. I’m working here part-time.”
“Oh, that’s right. I’ve seen you around. What can I do for you?”
“I read that story proposal you did about the dangers of Crime Alley. I thought it was great stuff. That area needs to be cleaned up and maybe your story will help make people see that.”
“If it gets approved.”
“Oh, I’m sure it will. You seem pretty popular here.”
“But I’m a woman.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Well, that means my idea will get used. But a man will get to cover it. Y’see, everyone here thinks that tough assignments are for men only.”
“That’s bullshit, I mean that story is your idea. You should be able to cover it.”
“Y’know Scott Maxwell, I like you.”
“Enough to let me be your photographer if you get it?”
“We’ll see.”
“C’mon, I can be Jimmy Olsen to your Lois Lane.”
“Nope. I don’t need any Superman to come and save me.”
“Somehow, Miss Dupris, I believe that.”
“Call me Kaysie.”
She smiled as she thought about that encounter. The story did get approved and sure enough it went to Jack Robbins. But something else happened then, she and Scotty became friends. It tore her up inside to think that Scott was dead. He was wonderful. But still, she wanted to get this story. Maybe...
Maybe nothing. If Robert Maxwell wouldn’t help she had nothing. She needed that angle. Every good reporter knows that you’ve got to have a good angle to have a good story. Anyone can simply recite facts.
But this wasn’t just another story. The whole subject of homosexuality was touchy in the time-forgotten town of Evanston. If there was really a killer stalking gays, how would the community react?. It was a well-known fact that “Simple” Simms Leef, the city Sheriff, had publicly denounced homosexuality as morally reprehensible. What will happen if there are, God forbid, more killings?
Kaysie stared out at the darkness outside her third story cubicle by the window. She jumped as someone grabbed her shoulder. She let out a small squeal and leaped out from her chair.
“I -- I’m sorry Miss Dupris, I didn’t mean to scare you, but - but,” said a balding man with plastic rimmed glasses and a paisley tie that ended three inches above his navel.
“That’s okay, Bob. I shouldn’t have been sitting here minding my own business anyway. What can I do for you?” Kaysie immediately berated herself for being so rude but sometimes Bob Myler drove her completely insane. He was a nice enough man, and Kaysie had known him ever since she started working at the Herald two years prior; but Bob Myler had a way about him that annoyed the piss out of her.
“I-I heard it on the police scanner,” he stammered.
“Heard what?” Kaysie asked patiently. It was probably about Bingo Winners or something.
“They found another body.”
“What?” Okay, this was big. “Another body?
“I said they found another body.”
“Okay, Bob. Where?”
“Over there on my scanner.”
“No, no! Where was the body found?” She was pulling on her coat even as she asked. She had to see the body before the police moved it. Assuming it was connected to Maxwell’s, there might be a clue.
“Mother of God Cemetery.”
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
So long as that 'stuff' includes writing more of this we'll forgive you....
You're moving this along at a good pace and still filling in lots of personal detail about the characters - great stuff Matt!
From: home sweet home... unless i'm posting from work | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
The Mother of God Cemetery was located five miles outside of Evanston on State Route 7. Kaysie drove the car as fast as she could the entire way. She knew that she had to get there before the Police removed the body. Dammit, another victim already? Now, now Kaysie; don’t jump ahead of yourself. The two deaths are probably not connected.
She reached the outskirts of the old cemetery just as a second police cruiser pulled to the end of the long, shadowy lane. Kaysie followed and parked beside it. As the cop left his car, he watched Kaysie leave hers and aimed his flashlight toward her Geo Storm. The cop motioned for her to come toward him. She did as she was told.
“Miss, the cemetery is closed,” said the tall, dark and decidedly ugly red-haired man in the police uniform. “Come back tomorrow morning.”
“Ah’m so sorry, officah,” Kaysie said. The twang surprised even her. She had practiced it for just such an occasion. But she never thought she could pull it off. She just hoped that he didn’t recognize her from her by-line picture. “Ah’ve come such a long way to see mah poor cousin Jeb. He died o’ leukemia last week an’ I missed the fun’rel on account o’ mah job. Ah’m waitress down in Cyan City. I jus’ wanted to pay mah respects, thas all.”
“At one o’clock in the morning? Look Miss, I feel bad about your cousin Jeb and all, but you can’t just come in here at this time of night.”
“Ah just got off work sir. Tomorra is mah only day off and ah’ve got so much ta do. This was mah only chance ta come up this way. Ah’m not here ta cause no trouble if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Miss, normally I might make an exception. But tonight just isn’t a good night. Do me a favor and get back in your car and turn around.”
“Officah, wah would anyone care. Has somethin’ happened? Damn grave robbers.”
“No ma’am, nothing like that. It’s just too late for anyone to be here.” His voice was stern. Kaysie could tell he was getting impatient with her.
“Ah’ll only be a minute officuh,” she said. She sauntered past him toward the other light shining off in the distance. “Ah know just where he’s buried.” The redheaded cop followed her.
“Miss, you really can’t...”
“Of course Ah can, ya silly. Ah even brought these here flowers for ‘im. Ya gotta let me do that, right?” She smiled. Thank God she thought to pick some up on the way. They may be cheap, but he’ll never know in the darkness.
“Look Miss, I’ve just about had it. I can’t let you take another step. Come back another day. Jeb will still be here.” But it was too late. She saw what the Officer had been trying to steer her away from. And now, she almost wished she had let him. Kaysie was sickened. The redhead had finally managed to catch up to her. “Miss?”
The sight before Kaysie was almost more than she could bear. She had seen dead bodies before, but only at funeral homes and in pictures in textbooks. Nothing in all her journalistic experience so far could prepare her for what she was now facing...
Lying against an unmarked tombstone were the remains of a young woman. She had long blonde hair. Kaysie guessed from her style of dress that she had been no older than thirty. Her throat was been slit open and she stared into space as if she were looking at something beyond the real world.
After the shock wore off, Kaysie turned her attention to the tombstone behind the woman’s body. Someone had written a message with what looked to be the woman’s blood on it. Scribbled in dark reds and browns was a very distinct message...
First was the Roman numeral “II”. Directly following was the name “Lorraine Peterson.” She committed the name to memory, not wanting anyone to see her write it down. Finally, there was a triangle outlining the name and number. The blood has trickled so it wasn’t geometrically perfect, but it was definitely a triangle... ***
Robert dialed the number on Kaysie’s card. He knew that if he didn’t make the call now, he never would. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say, but this Dupris woman was his best shot. He knew it was late but he decided to leave a message so she would call him first thing in the morning. He was quite surprised when someone actually answered the phone.
“Evanston Herald, Kaysie Durpis’ extension. May I help you?”
“Yes, my name is Robert Maxwell, and...”
“Hi, I’m Bob Myler. Nice to talk to you.”
“Uh, yeah. Listen, is Ms. Dupris around?”
“Around what?”
“Is she in her office?” Robert’s tolerance for the buffoon was minimal. He was going to yell if he didn’t get an intelligent answer.
“No, she’s out. It is one-thirty in the morning.”
“I realize that. I just wanted to leave her a message.”
“OK.”
“Can you tell her that Robert Maxwell called and would like her to call him?”
“I’ll tell her as soon as she gets back from the cemetery.”
“What?”
“I said, I’ll tell her when...”
“No, no. I heard you. Why is Kaysie at the cemetery?”
“Because they found... Uh, I really shouldn’t tell you this. I don’t even know you.”
“Look, you pathetic dimwit. Tell me why she’s at the cemetery or I will come through this phone and rip out your fucking heart. Is that clear?” God, that felt good.
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to get so testy. They found a body at the Mother of God Cemetery. Ms. Dupris went up there to check it out.”
“Thank you. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“No-no.”
“Bye.”
Robert put down the receiver and got dressed. He knew what he had to do. Within minutes he was on his way. Mother of God Cemetery? Another body? Looks like Kaysie may have been right. Damn
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
Morgan and Ryan hurried back to Morgan’s apartment. They had stopped several times to make sure no one was following them. Morgan locked the door behind them. He couldn’t stop shaking. Ryan didn’t appear to be much better off. They looked at each other and embraced. That had been the single most horrific incident of Morgan’s life. Neither one of them spoke. They just held each other. Finally, Morgan broke free and walked over to the computer.
“I really don’t want to turn this on.”
“Then don’t. I don’t want to know what that maniac has to say. Cancel your account. That will end this nightmare.”
“I wish it were that simple. Remember, he knows my name and address. If I don’t do this his way, people close to me are gonna die.”
“Like Lorraine? My God, what did that sick bastard do to her?” The thought of Lorraine being killed because of him made Morgan sick to his stomach. She had introduced Morgan to Ryan and many others. She had been like an older sister. It was she who started the GLIG Group in Evanston. GLIG stood for Gay/Lesbian Interest Groups. Both Morgan and Ryan had joined at Lorraine’s request.
“I don’t want to know. But I’ve got to make sure nothing happens to anyone else, especially y-,” Morgan couldn’t finish the sentence.
“You think he’s gonna come after me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you were thinking it.” Ryan walked over to the desk. By now, Morgan had logged in. “What are we gonna do?”
“Follow instructions,” Morgan answered. “For now.”
“So any more messages?”
“Nope.”
“Thank God.” Ryan touched his shoulder. It felt so good to have him there. Although he still felt guilty for bringing Ryan into this, he never would have made it this far without him. Now all they had to do was stay alive and find a way to stop this maniac. Then they would be free from this nightmare. ***
By the time Robert reached the cemetery, an ambulance was just driving away. There were several police cars and other vehicles just outside the gate. Robert guessed that these belonged to reporters. Damned vultures. In the distance, he could see spotlights aimlessly traveling through the darkness. He followed them onto the grounds. He could make out a few blurry images in the distance but nothing specific.
“I don’t think you want to go any farther,” said the female voice. It was Kaysie. “It’s not a very pretty sight.” She was wearing a black overcoat and a red scarf. She was smoking a cigarette.
“Who was it?” This was it. The moment of truth.
“It was a young woman, named Lorraine Peterson. At the moment that’s all I know. I’m gonna run a check later.”
“Do you think she was killed for the same reason as my brother?”
“Not a doubt in my mind. Same MO and everything.” She stopped and looked at him. “What are you doing here anyway?”
“I called your office and some guy said you were here.”
“Oh? What did you want?”
“I called to tell you that I wanna help you.”
“I’m glad you came to your senses.” There was no sign of excitement. Robert had expected her to be jumping for joy at his decision. At least a smile. This woman had a heart of stone! “Let’s meet tomorrow around 7:20 at your hotel room. Or have you decided you go back home?”
“I think the hotel would be best until we solve this.”
“It’s your money. But it is a good idea. I’m actually impressed.”
“Thanks,” Robert found himself blushing. “Uh, Miss Dupris?”
“Yes?”
“How was she killed?”
“Her throat was split open.”
“Jesus. Do you know when this happened?”
“It was on the scanner about 12:30 am. I found out that the night watchman usually checks the area at least once an hour or so. I would say it happened between ten thirty and eleven thirty. But that’s just a guess. Why?”
Robert told her about his dream. He also mentioned the alarm clock and the time he woke up. He watched Dupris’ face as he relayed the information, looking for a change of expression. Instead, he received a cold stare.
“Have you thought about how we’re gonna nail this guy?”
“Yep. But I don’t think you’re gonna like it much.”
“Why is that?”
“Because you are going under cover.”
“Under cover? What the hell are you talking about?” Then he stopped as he realized what she meant. He knew exactly what she wanted and she had been right: he didn’t like it. Not a damn bit. “Oh no. I don’t think so...”
“Look, it’s the only way,” she interrupted. “We’ll go over everything tomorrow. Oh, and dress properly. You’re going out.”
“Properly? You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t how to dress ‘properly’.”
“Obviously.”
“Look, Miss..”
“Kaysie.”
“Whatever. Kaysie. I don’t think this is gonna work out. I mean, I’m just not made that way. Anyway, why can’t you do it?”
“Because my face is plastered on the newspaper every day. I was lucky none of those cops over there noticed who I was when I first got here.” She pointed toward the police officers who were packing up their equipment. “Can’t you even try to do this?”
“I just don’t think I can. I want to help, but I don’t know if I can pretend...”
“The thing you’re not getting Robert, is that you don’t have to pretend to be anything other than you are.”
“But I’m not gay. I’m simply not gay.”
“You know that and I know that, but what you have to realize is that the only difference between you and a gay man is sexual preference, everything else is personality. Be yourself.”
“Okay! You’ve made your point,” he didn’t believe her but there was no point arguing now. He and Scott had the same discussion and they went round and round. Robert knew that there was something he just didn’t understand. A truth had somehow eluded him that Kaysie and Scott had been aware of. Hell, even their mother was aware of it. Why couldn’t he understand?
“You realize, of course, that the reason this has an excellent chance of succeeding is the fact that you resemble your brother so closely.”
“I see.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll cover everything tomorrow, I promise. Let’s just get the hell out of here. It’s been a long day.”
Robert didn’t expect that the days were going to get shorter anytime soon.
-------------------- Touch the magic...
From: Morganfield, KY | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
Hyperpath: Email this page to someone!
Printer-friendly view of this topic | Subscribe To Topic
![[Smile]](smile.gif)
![[Big Grin]](biggrin.gif)
