Death Comes to Main Street (The Paul Monroe Mysteries Book 3)

by Felice Stevens

  Cliff smothered a grin. Every time they saw any show or movie with police, Paul critiqued it to death.

  The show finally ended, and the news came on. When the reporter did a recap of the Main Street break-ins and claimed the business owners were growing restless at the lack of progress, Paul huffed out his displeasure. “What the hell do they know about what we’re doing?”

  Hoping to distract him, Cliff kissed his neck, but Paul was in grump mode.

  The next story was about the local garden club’s fundraising and the Thornwood Park minor league baseball team winning their fifth game in a row.

  Paul grunted. “Good coaching. Brett Stone is the best at this level.” He took a hit from his glass of whiskey and set it down. “Let’s watch the weather, then go to bed.”

  Cliff smiled, his body responding to that now familiar gleam in Paul’s eyes. “The weather? Really? I’m ready when you are.”

  Paul chuckled and reached for him.

  “We interrupt with a breaking story. There’s been an explosion at the Wild Orchid Club in downtown Thornwood Park. Details are still emerging, and police and the fire department are heading to the scene. Stay tuned to WTWP for the latest.”

  Dread shot through Cliff, and he clutched Paul’s arm. “Ryan was going there tonight. He and Shelby were on a date.”

  Paul pulled out his phone and called Rob. “Did you hear about the Wild Orchid?” He listened. “Yeah. I’ll meet you there.”

  Anxiously watching Paul’s face, Cliff couldn’t shake off the impending sense of doom. The television droned on, but he rose from the couch to follow Paul to the bedroom and sat on the bed, watching him dress, then retrieve his gun and shield from the lockbox he kept them in.

  Ryan. I need to call Ryan.

  His fingers fumbled as he pulled out his phone and hit Speed Dial. Helpless, he sat and listened to it go to voice mail. “Ry, It’s me. Call me back and let me know if you’re okay.”

  Paul met his eyes, his expression dark and unreadable. “Nothing?”

  Cliff shook his head. “No. Went to voice mail.”

  Paul gave him a swift kiss. “Keep trying. I’m going over there. Rob is meeting me.”

  Cliff trailed Paul as he left the bedroom and crossed the kitchen to grab his house keys, car keys, and wallet from the bowl on the counter. “I know you won’t be able to call me while you’re there, but please…” His voice caught. “If you hear anything…”

  Paul hugged him tight for a moment. “I’ll do what I can.”

  Cliff stood at the door and watched Paul drive away. He closed the door behind him and leaned on it, praying for everyone’s safety.

  Chapter Seven

  The smell of smoke met his nose before he reached downtown.

  Paul’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he took the turn onto Main Street to see flames flaring out of the front windows of the building that housed the Wild Orchid. Paul recalled the bar/restaurant in the front and a large dance floor in the rear. Anyone who wanted to do the most damage would wait until later in the evening, like now, then set fires in the front to make an exit almost impossible.

  He swung into a parking space and raced out of the car to the Wild Orchid, where police cars waited with their lights on and fire trucks were spraying water inside. Rob lived somewhat closer, and Paul picked out his partner, already talking to the patrol cops.

  “What’ve we got?”

  A young officer Paul vaguely recognized nodded to him. “Name’s Badillo, Detective. I was just telling your partner we got a call about windows breaking and several explosions. Fire department was called at 11:10 p.m.”

  Paul checked his watch. It was eleven thirty. He must’ve been speeding with the devil at his heels to make it so quickly. “Fire department can’t get it under control?”

  “Looks like fires are popping up inside. Might be the alcohol catching fire,” Innis, the other officer, replied.

  “Shit,” he swore. “The place is packed, I bet. Hopefully people get out through the back door.”

  He and Rob approached the Wild Orchid but couldn’t get closer than the middle of the now closed-off street. Paul’s heart kicked up a few notches when he saw several people being led around from the alley. He searched their faces, but none were Ryan or Shelby.

  Before Paul had a chance to tell Rob that someone he knew might possibly be inside, an explosion rocked the building, sending them on their heels. Screams from inside reached their ears, and for a moment Paul stood by helplessly.

  Then he and Rob ran up to the fire chief, who was directing his crew. “Chief, Detectives Monroe and Gormley. What’s the situation? One of your men, Ryan Callahan, is inside.”

  “Shit.” He pulled out his radio. “Code red. Code red. Firefighter inside the Wild Orchid. Ryan Callahan, Firehouse Two is inside the Wild Orchid. Repeat. Callahan is inside the Wild Orchid.” He took off his helmet and wiped his brow. “Thanks, Detectives. We don’t know yet, but I’m hoping my guys will be out of there soon.”

  As they spoke, another burst of flames shot up from the roof, which was quickly doused with a forceful spray of water from the fire hoses. The acrid smell of smoke and ash and wet blanketed the area in a foggy haze as they watched the firemen in protective gear rush inside.

  Almost dancing on his toes, Paul waited with Rob as the fire department did their job, and they saw men being helped out, choking and crying with fear. Paul searched the soot-stained faces but didn’t see Ryan. Perhaps Cliff had been wrong.

  A voice came over the chief’s radio. “Chief, we need medics ready.”

  Paramedics who’d been waiting sprang into action and ran to the front of the now ruined, still-smoking storefront. Firemen carried out one man with a mask over his face, clutching his shoulder. Blood seeped through his fingers. Another, hopping on one leg, had his arm slung around a tall, burly man Paul recognized as a bouncer.

  One fireman stood at the doorway and removed his mask. “Medic. This way with a stretcher. Follow me.”

  Anxious to see what was happening, Paul and Rob walked closer, even though their eyes stung from the smoke still billowing from the building. They stood out of the way of the paramedics bringing out a man on a stretcher. Two men followed in its wake, and Paul’s heart leaped.

  “Ryan,” he called out. “Over here.”

  Cliff’s best friend met his gaze, and Paul had never seen a look of such abject fear on anyone. Ryan ran over to where he and Rob stood, and Paul grabbed him, smoke, water and all, and gave him a hug.

  “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, a little smoke inhalation, nothing big. But Shelby…” Grief clouded his eyes. “Something with his heart. Joshua helped us get out. It was a madhouse. Everything happened at once.”

  With Shelby in critical condition, it wasn’t the right time to question Ryan. Paul and Rob walked back to the ambulance, where they’d already put an oxygen mask on Shelby and had IVs going. Another man hovered at his side, and with a jolt, Paul recognized the son of the jewelry-store owner.

  “Joshua Rothstein, right?”

  At Paul’s voice, Joshua dragged his gaze from Shelby’s prone form and met his eyes.

  “Yeah. Detective Monroe?”

  “Yes. Are you all right?”

  “Aside from being scared shitless, I’m okay. Just a little bang to my elbow.”

  “Joshua, man, you saved our lives by leading the way out.” Ryan’s voice broke, and Paul squeezed his shoulder. “If Shelby makes it, you’re the reason.”

  “He’s going to. Don’t think otherwise. I’ll take you to the hospital if you want.”

  “Okay. Yeah, that would be great.” Ryan faced Paul. “Can you tell Cliff what happened? I have to get to the hospital.”

  “Yeah, of course. And we’ll be by there later.”

  At his words, Ryan gave him a grim smile. “This wasn’t an accident, Paul. Someone threw Molotov cocktails into the club.”

  He and Rob exchanged
glances. “Yeah. I think we’re beginning to see a pattern here.”

  “Okay, we gotta get him to the hospital and into surgery.” The EMTs closed the ambulance doors. “Ry, we’ll see you at the hospital.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What are the injuries like, Steve? Are they bad?”

  “Won’t know internal until they check, but it’s bad, Paul.” Steve hopped into the cab, turned on the lights and sirens, and drove off, leaving the four of them standing there. Frantic people crowded the street behind them, some looking for friends or loved ones, others out for the spectacle. Paul blew out a breath, knowing it was going to be a long night.

  “Paul, we’re going.” Dirty with smoke and ash, Ryan waited with Joshua at his side. “I’ll see you.”

  “Thanks, Ry. Talk to you both later, and I’ll let Cliff know.”

  Giving him an absent smile, Ryan let Joshua lead him away.

  Rob’s face was as grim as Paul imagined his own. “Guess we better start gathering witnesses. I already texted Annabel not to expect me home anytime soon.”

  Before he got too caught up in the investigation, Paul took out his phone and sent Cliff a text: Fire at Wild Orchid. Ryan’s ok. Shelby’s hurt. They’re at the hospital. I’ll be working all night. He thought of Shelby and anyone else injured and sent one further text: Love you.

  “Let’s do this. We need to catch these motherfuckers,” he said brusquely.

  “Right behind you,” Rob said.

  They approached the crowd, and Paul decided to talk to the bouncer he’d seen helping the man with the hurt leg.

  “Chris, how’re you doing?” Paul held out his hand. “This is my partner, Detective Rob Gormley. We’re going to be investigating what happened here tonight.”

  Standing six foot four and two hundred twenty pounds of pure muscle, Chris O’Brian would be a fearsome sight if Paul didn’t know what a kind and sweet man he was. He’d seen pictures of Chris and his husband, Lionel, cuddling with their three rescue dogs. The two men also volunteered at the Thornwood Park Youth Center, and Paul had witnessed him paying for dinners for guys who’d lost their jobs or were suffering in abusive relationships.

  “Detectives.” Chris wiped his face with a wet paper towel, and some of the ashy grime came off. “What do you want to know?”

  “Anything. Starting with when you came on duty to, well, now. Or if anything strange has happened in the past weeks.”

  “Look. We’re a gay dance club. We get hate mail all the time. Most of it is pathetic and laughable, and we toss it out.”

  “I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming.”

  Chris nodded and absently played with the gold hoop in his left ear. “Two weeks ago, we got a letter slipped under the front door overnight.”

  “What did it say?” Though Paul already knew.

  “Nothing. Just a picture of a cross with a skull inside it.”

  As he’d expected.

  “Tell me more about the Wild Orchid. You’re a bouncer here; are you also the owner?”

  Chris snorted. “Hell, no. Mackenzie Cartwright owns the club.”

  “Is he here tonight?” This was the first time Paul had heard the name mentioned.

  “Nah. He comes once a month and takes the money. Nice gig, if you can get it. Anyways. We got that note, and I told him I could bring on another security person with me. Make sure we do more thorough screenings, no bags or backpacks, that kinda stuff. But he said no, just keep an eye out.”

  “And tonight?” Paul prodded. “Did you see anything unusual?”

  “We had a promotion going on. Five-dollar shots and three-dollar beers. Obviously the place was packed. Plus we had a special deejay, Jerry Jay from Miami.”

  “Big name?”

  “Yeah. Big in the club scene, and the place was banging. We have a maximum of two fifty, and I’m sure we were at or near capacity. And then all of a sudden this firebomb sailed through the window.”

  “Was it only one? Did you see who did it?”

  “Nah, they were outside. But it wasn’t just one.” Chris chewed his lip and wiped his face with the wet paper towel again. “Once that one blew up inside, there was another one right after, and the whole place started lighting up. People were screaming and trying to fight their way to the front to get outside. The smoke got too thick, so they had to turn back. It was fucking chaos.”

  “They all got out through the back door?”

  “Yeah. It leads to a courtyard, and then there’s a path to the street.”

  “We’ll need to let Forensics and the arson investigation team know about that.”

  Chris’s eyes, dark like black cherries, met Paul’s with a mournful expression. “They wanted us to die in there. They wanted us to burn to a crisp.”

  “We’ll make sure this is treated as the highest priority, Chris.” Paul shook his hand. “Can you give us Cartwright’s telephone number? And yours as well.”

  Paul and Rob wrote them in their books.

  “We’ll probably have to talk to you again, so expect our call.”

  “Anytime, Detectives.”

  Paul and Rob canvassed the scene, speaking to people who’d been inside, all of whom gave the same story as Chris. The club was crowded, the music was loud, and no one really knew what happened until fires started flaring up, but it was definitely deliberate. And from what Chris had told them about the note the club received, it seemed to tie in with the other break-ins.

  After recording the last witness’s name, Paul flipped his memo pad shut. “I think we should go to the hospital. I want to get Ryan’s and Joshua’s statements and see how Shelby is.”

  “Yeah, definitely. That’s rough, man. Shelby was a cop in Silver Valley, wasn’t he? I think you mentioned it once.”

  “Yeah, he was.”

  They talked on their way to their cars. “Meet you at the hospital,” Paul said and unlocked his car.

  “Will do.”

  At this time of night the roads were empty, and Paul made it to Thornwood Park Memorial Hospital in less than fifteen minutes. When he exited his car, the headlights of Rob’s car swept behind him. Together, they entered the hospital, and when Paul inquired at the front desk, they were told Shelby was in the ICU and were directed to the proper floor.

  When they arrived at the waiting area, Ryan and Joshua were sitting there. Joshua had his arm around Ryan, who sat with his eyes closed and his head against the other man’s shoulder.

  Joshua glanced up. “Hey. Shelby’s in surgery.” Ryan opened his eyes.

  “Surgery?” Paul asked. “Why?”

  “He has a heart problem. It’s the reason he had to give up being a cop.” Ryan’s voice hitched. “All the excitement and problems tonight exacerbated it, and he had a heart attack on the way over here. They said it was a bad one.” The last sentence was delivered in a whisper.

  “We have to think positive,” Paul said, sliding into a seat by Ryan. Rob sat on the other side of Joshua. “He’s young and strong. And a fighter.”

  “That’s what I told him.” Holding a tray of coffees, Cliff walked in, and Paul drank in the sight of him. In a night filled with blood and mayhem, knowing Cliff was safe and with him settled Paul’s nerves. “Take this.” He held the tray in front of Joshua and Ryan, who took theirs. “If I knew you were coming now, I’d have gotten you one.”

  “No worries.” Paul let his hand brush Cliff’s. That connection, no matter how small, was all he needed at the moment.

  “We were hoping you might be able to tell us what happened. If you can.” Rob gave both Ryan and Joshua his good-natured smile. “We know it’s been a horrible night, but it looks like you’re going to be here for the long haul, and we like to get the statements as close to the time of the incident as possible so you don’t forget.”

  “It’s okay, Detective. I understand. You’ve got a job to do.” Joshua removed his arm from around Ryan’s shoulder and rubbed his face. “What do you want to know?”

  “Just you
r night from when you arrived at the Wild Orchid until we saw you.”

  Stretching out his long legs, Joshua grunted. “Well, I came to the club figuring I’d meet people. As you know, I’m pretty new here and don’t know many gay people. When I saw there was a club, I was excited to find a place where I could be comfortable to hang out. I had a couple of drinks—”

  “With whom?” Paul interrupted.

  “Just at the bar. I made some small talk with Ryan, but I saw he had a date, so I didn’t bother to ask him to dance.” He flicked his gaze over to Ryan, then back, but Paul had seen all he needed to know, and he gentled his approach.

  “Did you dance or drink with anyone else?”

  “No. No one else caught my eye. But it was cool, and I wanted to stay and listen to the music.”

  Rob broke in. “What about a person who didn’t seem to fit in? Anyone suspicious?”

  Joshua sat in thought for a moment. “I guess I wasn’t really paying much attention to the surroundings. Except for the guys there.” He rubbed his cheek, smearing a little of the soot. “Sorry.”

  Ryan joined in the conversation. “Shelby and I were dancing, when all hell broke loose. We were running to escape like the others but got caught in the surge of people.” He closed his eyes for a second, then reopened them. “Shelby let out a groan and said, ‘Ry, I can’t breathe.’ He said his chest hurt. People were screaming and pushing, and Shelby started gasping for air. The next thing I knew, we were on the floor and Joshua was pulling us to safety. I helped him move Shelby to a corner, and we huddled against the wall to protect him.”

  “Jesus, Ry. You could’ve been killed.” Cliff rasped out, white and shaking.

  “I wasn’t thinking of me. I knew Shelby was bad off, and normally I would’ve helped with everyone else, but once I heard the sirens, I knew we’d be taken care of soon. People were screaming and crying, trying to get out. It could’ve been someone in the club who did it, trying to pass as one of us.”

  One of us.

  Those words hit Paul hard, and he had to set his pen down and take a breath. He was part of this community, and yet he kept himself separate. It was more than Pride parades and living together. What happened at the Wild Orchid could’ve happened with him and Cliff inside. He didn’t…couldn’t allow himself to hide any longer.