I for one had had enough excitement for awhile and was only too happy to go back to covering the local news, like PTA meetings and fender benders, and the occasional shoplifter...OR Mrs. Harrington's cat up in the proverbial tree again, sometimes in her arms.
BUT I should have known that this period of rapturous solitude wouldn't last long. DRAT.
I was especially enjoying the somewhat increased closeness of Robbie and me as of late.
I couldn't explain it then and I can't now, but something about being involved in investigating these murders as a team if you will, had brought us even closer together (who would have thought that even remotely possible), and it seemed to me to be almost a clinging on Rob's part. I think all this was wearing on him even more than I had suspected and I had noticed that even in sleep he was holding me tighter and with his face deeply buried in my neck most nights...and there was just NO him NOT sleeping with me. It was like his apartment didn't even exist.
I didn't know exactly what to do to help him, except to just be there for him and let him be there for me. Without realizing it I think he understood that is how it is and I know he knows I will always be right by his side and having his back.
One Sunday morning in the middle of all this, I was coming back to the breakfast table and as I got by him he grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap and then buried his face in my neck. We just sat like that for a long time, the quiet in that room was almost deafening. Finally he said..
"I am SO in over my head, baby, and I know the cops around me can see that," and GOD I felt so badly for him. I just hugged him, kissed his cheek and told him he was doing just fine and nobody at the station thought he wasn't, and that was that (I hoped)...at least until the phone rang.
SHIT. SUNDAY YOU PERVERTED SUCKSLIME. GEEZ. (and somehow I just knew that fell on deaf ears, even though it was heartfelt and LOUD AS FUCK!)
SIGH. Yes, it was the police station, and yes there was another body, and yes it was at Robert Michaelsons', but one of his restaurants this time, and it was an employee...and....it is Sunday and NOBODY F'ING CARES...FUCK!
TV STATION BE DAMNED. I WANT QUIETUDE WITH MAH...uh...nm.
Grrr...
I was SOOOOO looking forward to a long easy Sunday playing monopoly and being naughty and perhaps a game or two of parcheesi and being more naughty and ensnared in a hard-fought game of scrabble and...you get the idea.
AND so we kissed the twins goodbye (who for once had been quiet on their own) and GOD BLESSEM, without explaining (always keep them guessing is my motto) and off we went.
My best pal a Silician and a cop. What is wrong with that picture. HUH? LOL.
We took the Porsche as he had left his squad car at the precinct and I was glad for it gave us at least a few more sorta quiet minutes together.
"Robbie?"
"Yeh, baby?
I damn near giggled at his new penchant for him calling me his baby. SO CUTESIE. Hehehe.
"I have been thinking or maybe wondering is a better way to put it."
"About what?"
"What do you think could be inside someone to make them want to do what this guy does. I mean...just the fact of the murders is bad enough, but to mutilate the bodies afterward? To decapitate someone? God...what can be within a person to make something like this totally acceptable to them."
"You got me baby, you got me."
I knew he didn't really have the answer to that one and I sure as Hell didn't either but hadn't been able to get that question out of my mind.
I am well aware that within people there are both good and bad traits, male and female genomes/DNA stuffies, and characteristics some of which are generic and probably genetic or geriatric or whatever in nature and some without question somewhat unique in principle to that individual.
Gelatin too perhaps.
Anyhow, physical characteristics deeply buried within the complexity of us humans, and then there is the psychological stuff too. No question we are a complicated bunch of strangeness on our good days, and this?
But all that being a given, it seems to me that the stuff whatever it is that makes someone THIS KINKY is a mystery to me. I have not a clue and maybe will try to see what research there may be...(although the researchers may by now be in a home drooling into a linen hanky or their lunch tray)...or maybe some things are better left in the unknown. I am not sure...and at that unpromising note in my mental song, we arrived at the precinct and after parking we strolled in most nonchalantly, yeh right.
"Heyah Ry," Robbie said to the officer at the front desk.
"Hey Rob," he smiled back.
"Hey Dylan," and smiled at me.
So far so good. LOL.
"Hey."
"Hope y'all had a good Sunday," he continued and we nodded in the negative and strolled on.
Ryan Gilforth is also a relative newbie at the precinct, coming from south Georgia originally ('dawn roun' Macon way doncha know' and to hear him talk one might be convinced he is still there). LOL, and then he meandered up to the University of Chicago where he studied TAH DAH, law enforcement...and was hired by our local police department straight out of college.
He is also almost as big a hottie as Rob, even a teeny bit taller, perhaps a bit skinnier (NO WAY), and with the kind of blonde hair you want to lose yourself in and the biggest deepest blue eyes I have ever seen...and oh yes, also like Robbie he has a bubble butt that you can bounce dimes off of, and then stand back and prepare to see a chink in the nearest wall.
I have often noticed him seriously checking me out and have gotten a tickle out of it, but never fear. For me it is Robbie or bust cause he will bust the chops of anyone who tries anything I have no doubt. I think they call it being territorial. I call it Sicilian romantic macho.
Rob grabbed my hand and pulled me forward HAHAHA, no jealousy there...and we made tracks even leaving skid marks getting to his desk near the back of the room. (He is getting his own office soon, or so he says. They are redecorating after the untimely death of his predecessor).
"What?" I asked him after being plopped into my (if you can call it that) chair, and although I knew damn well what, hah.
"Nothing."
"Yeh right," I thought. Ok, mister big shot cop shot, I got YOUR little number...and laughed to myself.
"HOWEVER...ahem, If I am gonna spend this much time here, I am gonna spring for a REAL CHAIR," I thought to myself and then out loud. Soon as shit. Maybe a big two-person laz-y-boy or a couch/love-seat, or TAH DAH, a king-size....ok, prolly not.
The forensics boys had just put their initial report on his desk and he got to it quickly.
"Dyl, this says this victim was also stabbed...
repeatedly. This has GOT to be a serial killer. The M.O.'s are either identical or definitely similar."
"Yeh, my thought too."
"The deceased was Donnie Martinsen, 24, originally from here...gives an address out west side of town. He was the apprentice houseman in the main restaurant at the club.
Only family it lists is a mother, a twin-brother, and a grand-mother all local. Ry and Len (another Sgt) are trying to reach them now.
It also says he was mutilated, castrated, and decapitated. This time both the genitals AND the head are missing."
"Trophies?"
"Yeh, my guess. Glenn is the only one of those murdered so far that was not decapitated although he was castrated too."
"Yeh, that I missed."
"Oh, sorry."
"This is beginning to sound not only like serial murder, but hate crimes and even hate sex crimes."
"You think?" He turned and looked at me.
"Yeh...think about it. All these guys are GUYS. ALL of them are or rather were castrated, all were gay and two of the murders took place at a gay hangout."
"Not exclusively Dyl," Rob replied.
"Maybe not but even though a lot of young attractive straight people go there, and everybody including families go for the food but they also go to other places in town and the gay guys pretty much ONLY GO THERE least as far as in town except for Michaelsen's 'THE RACK."
"THE RACK" is a fabulously delicious steakhouse Michaelsen owns and it draws a diverse clientele.
"Good point."
"And, the other two...Walters and Case, were in a very gay-oriented business and also hung out at the club a lot from what I am told.
Rob started to say something but his desk phone rang again.
"Hello?"
"Hey cop cutie. How you like my presents now?"
This time there was no obvious attempt to disguise his voice, which said he was becoming bolder and more confident.
"Not so much. How about you tell me your name and why you are doing this?"
"Not so fast podner, this is MY show and I call the shots. YOU get to sit and wonder just who is next. Hell, just might be that hellatious damn hottie you got your AWESOME PEE---NITH into all the time EH?"
"What?"
"YOUR BOY, Pussy patrol boy. I'll give you credit. You sure know how to find the hot ones doncha...but maybe it just might be him next time, yah know? How you like that, Cutie coppie? Think he will be such a hottie in his casket?"
CLICK.
I sat looking at Rob not knowing what the guy had said, but I saw the look on his face and it was about as horrific as I have ever seen him look. Not even when we discovered the Richard Case body did he have a look like I was seeing on his face now.
Suddenly he leaned forward and grabbed me and hugged the FUCK out of me with his head in my neck, cheek, face, ears, and everywhere else he could find to stick it. Then I felt drops of water and knew he was crying.
"What the fuck is going on, Honey?"
I didn't even think about calling him honey and barely realized I had. This was something awful I knew.
"Dyl," he said and leaned back a bit after a couple minutes of holding me as tight as he ever has and to say he was losing it would be a gross understatement.
"Yeh?"
"We are going home. Home and pack our bags. We are leaving."
"What? WHY?"
"We gotta get the fuck out of here Baby. Fast as we can. AS FAR AS WE CAN."
"WHY?"
"Just do it PLEASE," and he was pleading now and I had NEVER SEEN HIM like this before.
"WE GOTTA GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE."
Hmmmm....
"No, honey. Not a chance. At least not until you tell me what is going on. What was that phone call?"
"The murderer."
"Ok, AND...
"He threatened you. He said you were next."
"ME? WHY?"
"Cause of us."
"Us?"
"Yeh, he is convinced we are...uh...um...uh..."
I just love it when he gets all flustered and stammers).
"Lovers?"
"Uh, yeh."
"So THIS IS a hate crime. He is a homophobe, Robbie."
"Yeh, I guess."
"You guess?"
"Yeh, ok ok, yes he is that. Sure."
"Well, you know what? I ain't going anywhere.
That slimebag is NOT going to drive me out of my own home/town/whatever."
"No baby baby PLEASE. I can't bear the thought of losing you.
NOT NOW NOT EVER...PLEASE?"
"Trust me you ain't gonna. I ain't going anywhere until that fucktard is behind bars or 6' under. PERIOD.
Rob just sat there, mulling that over and I think hearing my tone of voice he was realizing I was DEAD SERIOUS, so to speak...and he had NO chance of convincing me to leave town, be it safer or not.
"Then listen to me.
You go NOWHERE
NOWHERE
N.O.W.H.E.R.E.
without ME by your side.
Not the other side of town, not the bathroom, NOWHERE. You hear me?"
"Whoo hoo, not even the toity?"
"Whoo hoo YEP. NOT EVEN THE HOITY TOITY."
"OTAY. This might be fun."
"You are a trip. Serious. You know that?"
"TRIP? I ain't going nowhere remember."
"Yeh yeh. We gonna get you a gun too."
"ME? A GUN...as in bang bang oops my toe gone gun?"
"Except for the toe part, yeh."
I looked at him and saw he was serious.
EEEK!
Then he grabbed me, pulled me onto his lap, and my face into his neck, and there we were. Snuggled up really cozy like...in the middle of a police station, and all but 'doing it'. GEEZ. Talk about BRAZEN GUTS."
Good thing it's all legal now and shit.
Then I realized we were kinda...uh...IN THE COPPERS HOUSE...hehehe. OMG. Wait 'til I tell Ma. SHE is JEST...GONNA...SHIT. I jest knows it.
"Marilu hawney wait 'til I tells yah what my baby was doing last night.,,AND WHERE! AND WITH WHOOO HOO."
LOL.
Course NOW I have to be accompanied yah know. Either by Rob or one or both of the twins OR a bodyguard. PEE YOU. Lil ol' me needin' a perthunal BAWDY GARDE? MEE YEOW. Makes me feel jest THOO impawtant doan cha no. But you know who insisted and well, I guess I am flattered.
Ok, back to reality and...back to the main agenda. The headless houseman.
CONTINUE TO CHAPTER VIII
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