The Player

by Joe Cosentino

  I asked, “What was your childhood like, Detective?”

  He smirked. “I’m not discussing my personal life with you.”

  Grinning, I said, “I thought you didn’t play by the rules.”

  He scratched at his thin chestnut beard. “I don’t.” Turning to Zian, he said, “That’s why I’d like to speak to you outside.”

  Zian asked, “Are you going to handcuff me?”

  Kelly unleashed a sexy smile. “Maybe later. Right now, I’d like to get to know you.” Kelly led Zian outside.

  I mounted the stairs and knocked on the door of room one. A few moments later, Sherry Butler opened it, flask in hand.

  “Andre? Is there any news about my sister?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “Come on in.”

  “I don’t want to bother you. I just came to see if you’re okay.”

  “Aren’t you the sweetest thing.” She giggled. “No pun intended.” After taking a swig from her flask, she said, “I’m holding on.”

  “I’m sure Detective Kelly will have some answers for you and Jim soon.”

  She mumbled, “I wish Jim had some answers for me.”

  “Do you think the past problems between Kelly and Jim will get in the way of Kelly’s investigation?”

  “Hell no. What’s the big deal?” She giggled. “That sexy Goliath is the big deal.” After another drink, she said, “So Kelly isn’t endorsing Jim for mayor. That doesn’t mean he won’t investigate what happened to my sister.” Following another drink, she added, “Kelly’s a good-guy detective. Not like his father.”

  That caught my attention. “His father is a detective too?”

  “He was.” She gulped from her flask and then added, “He was a drunk. Died of liver poisoning.”

  “Why did he drink?”

  “Why does anyone drink? Problems. He lost his wife to cancer when Kelly and his younger sister were children.”

  “That must have been tough on Kelly.”

  “It was worse on his little sister, Sharon.” She explained, “Some drunks are happy drunks, and some drunks are mean drunks.”

  “Kelly’s father was a mean drunk?”

  She nodded.

  “What did he do to Sharon?”

  “He scared the hell out of her by swearing and throwing things around the house until he passed out and Kelly had to put him to bed. The poor girl couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “Did she run away from home?”

  “At sixteen to New York City, where she got caught stealing food and clothes, thrown into juvenile detention, and pushed around by some of the older girls. It messed with her head big-time.” She grinned. “Kelly, bless his hunky bald self, visited her all the time. When Sharon was released, he moved her back here, and he still lives with her.”

  “Is she all right now?”

  “Thanks to Kelly.” She opened the door wider. “You sure you don’t want to come inside?” Lifting her flask, she added, “There’s room for one more.”

  “I’d better go to my room and let you get some rest. Hang in there, Sherry. I’m sure Kelly will have news for us soon.”

  “My family is counting on it.” She called out after me, “My door’s always open if you change your mind.”

  I hurried down the hall, anxious to talk to Freddy.

  Chapter Seven

  I ENTERED the room to find Freddy nowhere in sight. Sitting at the player piano, I loaded the roll of “Rhapsody in Blue” written by George Gershwin in 1924.

  Moments later, the lights flickered, the room chilled, the familiar scent of champagne swirled around me, and the love of my life stood next to me, running long fingers through his slicked-back black hair. “Jacob wrote his greatest masterpiece for me.”

  Having heard my fill of stories about Freddy being the object of a famous person’s affections, I rose and said, “I know. Gershwin was madly in love with you, but you turned down his advances, so he became blue.”

  “You’re in the trolley about my rejection of Jacob’s advances. However, the blue in the title didn’t refer to Jacob’s mood.”

  “Then it was the blue Danube River outside your hotel room window.”

  “Our suite overlooked the Danube, but that wasn’t the blue in the title.”

  I rubbed my temples. “What was it, Freddy? Gershwin calling you a ‘bluenose’ for not falling into bed with him? Gershwin filling your room with blue orchids? The blue lobster Gershwin served you on a silver platter at midnight?”

  “While all that indeed occurred, none of those events led to Jacob’s title of that brilliant work.”

  “Then what was the blue in the title!”

  “Blue cheese, my favorite late-night snack. However, when Jacob partook along with me, it saddled the poor man with terrible abdominal distress, leading to the first movement.” He winked at me. “In more ways than one.”

  I groaned, sitting on an armchair. “Freddy, we need to focus on our investigation.”

  “Of course. Let’s have a beat session.” He posed at the fireplace mantel à la Sherlock Holmes. “What did you discover, Watson?”

  “Detective Kelly and Zian Raye, the artist, had troubled pasts with their fathers. Kelly’s was an alcoholic.”

  “Which reminds me of Brenda and Benji Butterworth.”

  I raised my eyes to the silver wall sconce.

  Freddy continued undaunted. “Brenda and Benji’s parents had great affinity for giggle water. Brenda, as the eldest, was often invited to the family cocktail parties. Benji, as the younger, was sent to his room with the nanny. But it all came out fine in the end, since the nanny was a notorious drunk Dora.” He grinned. “And as a good Christian woman, the nanny shared everything she had—to Benji’s delight.”

  “Freddy, having alcoholic parents can be traumatic for children! Kelly’s dad swore and threw things, causing Kelly’s younger sister to run away from home at sixteen. And parents who don’t drink can be abusive as well. Zian’s dad, a strict military man, disowned his own son for being a gay artist.”

  He leaned toward me. “And there are Holy Rollers Jim and Cynthia Russell.”

  “Exactly. Cynthia’s sister, who you would call a drunk Dora, believes Jim is closet bisexual.”

  “Which would explain Jim’s reticence to accept in his son what he shuns in himself.”

  “And illuminate Cynthia’s lack of support for Nelson and Sergio’s relationship.” I was on a roll. “It seems Jim isn’t the only one deluding himself. Sherry complained about bearing the brunt of her sister’s judgements and put-downs—”

  “Yet she aspires to her sister’s place as Jim’s wife and Nelson’s mother.”

  I slid to the edge of my seat. “And speaking of Cynthia, both she and Sherry complained of Jim’s lack of sexual prowess.”

  Freddy winked at me. “Something we are definitely not guilty of, my boy.”

  Ignoring Freddy, I said, “A year ago, Sergio Santino was in a New York City court on a drunk-driving charge. During a break, he witnessed Cynthia, then a judge, coming on to her young male clerk who, according to Sergio, was too small to easily escape her advances.”

  Freddy rested on the armchair next to me, tenting his long fingers. “That brings to mind my pals, the wildly entertaining Communist couple Jay Lovestone and Charles Ruthenberg. As accused ‘labor movement insurgents’ and ‘homosexual deviants,’ they stood before their fair share of judges, causing many magistrates to see red—in more ways than one. Jay, upon being interrogated in the judge’s chamber, flashed his red tie. Charles waved his red pocket handkerchief. When the judge asked the reason for their distracting behavior, Jay and Charles stated the judge’s chamber was infested with bugs. So the judge called for a recess. While an exterminator went to work in the judge’s chamber, I whispered to Jay in the hallway, ‘It seems his honor wasn’t aware a red tie and hanky connote a gentleman who seeks the attention of other gentlemen.’ Charles whispered back, ‘It also seems the judge wasn’t aware of the t
hree microphones we placed behind rubber plants in his chamber before the hearing when the good judge was out ironing his shoelaces.’” Freddy laughed uproariously.

  I moaned. “What does a judge going to the bathroom while Communists bug his private chamber have to do with Cynthia’s murder?”

  “What indeed.” He crossed one long leg over the other. “A judge makes various decisions from the bench. Some popular. Some not. One can’t help but wonder if an unpopular decision of hers could have provoked Cynthia Butler Russell’s murder.”

  “Freddy, I hadn’t thought of that.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re a genius!”

  “Of course I am.” He rose and approached the desk, where I had unpacked my laptop. “Would your magic box be able to give us a listing of Judge Russell’s more recent cases?”

  “I’ll check.” I rose and then plopped down on the desk chair. After searching the web for a while, I shouted, “Judge Russell!”

  Hovering over my shoulder, Freddy said, “Is Judge Russell’s clerk mentioned?”

  I checked. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Did young Sergio get a description of the man?”

  “Only that he was small with dark hair and olive-colored skin.”

  “Zian Raye?”

  “Possibly. He lives in New York City. And Zian had asked to speak with Cynthia about a personal matter.” I screeched. “Here are her cases! But no decisions. Since it was a lower court, I doubt any of the decisions made the news.”

  “Are the plaintiffs listed by name?”

  After more searching, I said, “Here they are!”

  “Good work, Andre!” Freddy kissed the top of my head.

  I couldn’t resist returning the kiss. Then I scanned the list. “Here’s Sergio Santino.” Freddy found Consuela Garcia. “Could Consuela be related to Renata Garcia Santino?”

  I chuckled. “Freddy, things have changed a lot since 1935. Garcia is now as popular a name in the US as Smith.”

  “Still, it might be worth investigating.” He pointed to another name on the screen. “Sharon Kelly. Might there be a relation to your peeper Kelly?”

  “Shelly mentioned Kelly’s sister’s name was Sharon!”

  He lifted me to my feet. “Then go to it, dear boy. Make connections. Prod, probe, insinuate, and challenge the suspects. And report to me what you’ve gleaned.”

  “I will, Freddy.” After glancing at my watch, I noticed breakfast wouldn’t begin for another half hour. “But first, let’s see what I can glean here in your bedroom.”

  “Quite a lot, I imagine.” Freddy took me in his arms. My chest sank into his, and our erections met. “Let’s glean away, my love.” He led me toward the bed, removing our clothes on the way. We made joyous love as the sky outside our balcony transported us to a soft canvas of swirling cerise, maize, and fandango.

  Afterward as we lay in each other’s arms, I could sense Freddy was miles away. Glancing up at his handsome face, I asked, “What’s wrong, Freddy?”

  He covered by squeezing my butt. “I’m ready for round two.”

  Sounding like him, I said, “Bank’s closed, Freddy. We need to save Gabriel and figure out who killed Cynthia.”

  “You have a point there.” He patted my crotch. “And I am very interested in exploring it again.”

  As Freddy caressed my hair and leaned in for a kiss, I said, “We owe it to everyone in the house—in your house—to find the murderer.”

  He leaned back. “I suppose you’re right. My country home was meant to be a place of revelry, not revenge. And I do think the motive for the murder was revenge.”

  “I agree. But I need to get more information. So, the game is afoot!”

  As we dressed, Freddy seemed distracted. When we were through, he sat at the desk.

  Standing next to him, I said, “Are you planning to read more letters?”

  He nodded silently. It was unlike Freddy not to share his past with me. “Freddy, is there something bothering you in those letters?”

  When he didn’t respond, I assumed Freddy wanted to be alone with his parents’ memory, so I kissed the top of his head. “I’ll use the time to finish my investigation.”

  I waited for Freddy to correct me, labeling it “our” investigation. When no correction came, I noticed him opening the desk drawer, so I quietly left the room.

  It was eight thirty when I made my way down the stairs and discovered the yellow tape had been removed from the door to the Russells’ private residence. After entering the dining room, I sat at the empty seat adjacent to the mahogany fireplace mantel. Gabriel was to my right, Renata Garcia Santino to my left, and Sherry Butler opposite me. Zian sat across from Gabriel, and Sergio was opposite his mother.

  I overheard Zian whisper to Gabriel, “Are you all right?”

  Gabriel nodded. “I’m fine.”

  Gabriel didn’t seem fine to me. He looked on edge, which worried me. Jim appeared to be a good cook. I helped myself to a slice of broccoli quiche, millet waffles with berries, oatmeal topped with walnuts and bananas, and a baked cinnamon apple. As I sipped my peach juice, Nelson Russell entered from the butler’s pantry and refilled the bread basket. I said, “Nelson, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  He mumbled, “Thank you.”

  “Has there been any word from Detective Kelly about who might have done this?”

  Nelson shook his head.

  Sergio took Nelson’s hand, and the two young men gazed at each other lovingly.

  “I’m not surprised.” Zian said, “The detective seems to be spending his time asking us irrelevant questions.”

  That caught my attention. “Such as?”

  “He wants to know all about my personal life.”

  I grinned at Zian’s naivety to Kelly’s interest in him.

  After Nelson had gone back into the butler’s pantry, Renata asked us, “Is there anyone here the detective hasn’t questioned?” When nobody spoke up, she said, “Then he seems to be doing his job.”

  “Unless the killer came from outside the house,” I replied.

  “Do you think that’s possible?” Renata asked.

  I thought of Sharon Kelly’s name on Cynthia’s court docket. “I do.”

  Sherry, who had changed into a tight tangerine low-cut dress, slurped her iced mint tea, which I assumed had been “sweetened” by her flask. As she gobbled down a sweet potato fry, she said between bites, “If my sister were still with us, she’d criticize the detective’s investigation.”

  I asked, “In what way?”

  “In every way. Cynthia criticized everything and everyone.”

  Jim Russell entered from the butler’s pantry to replenish the quiche tray.

  “Thank you for making such a feast, Mr. Russell, especially at a time like this,” I said. “Everything is delicious.”

  The others nodded. Jim seemed not to notice, staring straight ahead, deep in thought.

  I recalled Freddy’s advice about probing. “I see the yellow tape has been taken down. You must be relieved to move back into your quarters.”

  “Relieved just about sums it up.”

  Jim glared at Sherry.

  Unfazed, Sherry wiped her mouth with a napkin and applied fuchsia lipstick. “I’m sure my brother-in-law is more comfortable in his own bedroom.”

  When Nelson reentered with more waffles, I asked him, “Are you back in your bedroom as well?”

  Nelson stared at his father defiantly. “I’m staying in Sergio’s room.”

  Sergio squeezed his hand.

  “Where Sergio can look after him,” Renata added with a proud smile.

  Jim swallowed his anger and then said to Sergio and Renata, “Thank you both for watching over my son.”

  Renata was like a dog with a bone. “Sergio has been a great support system for Nelson. I think they make a wonderful couple.”

  “Excuse me.” Jim walked into the butler’s pantry.

  Nelson followed his father.

  Detecti
ve Kelly entered from the front door and approached the dining room. “Ouch!” Glaring up at the doorway molding and rubbing his bald head, he said, “I want to remind everyone not to leave the B and B unless you clear it with me. Does everyone understand?”

  We all nodded.

  Sherry asked, “Do you know who killed my sister?”

  “Not yet,” Kelly replied. “I’d like to do a few follow-up interviews this morning.” He gestured to Zian. “Please come with me.”

  Zian rolled his eyes to the crystal chandelier. “Aren’t you finished with me yet?”

  Kelly grinned. “Not by a long shot.”

  Zian turned to Gabriel. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes. Please don’t worry about me. I should get back to my room.”

  “Don’t fall asleep,” I whispered to Gabriel.

  Once Kelly, Zian, and Gabriel had gone, Nelson entered to clear the empty trays and plates.

  “I’ll help.”

  Nelson waved Sergio away. “Finish your breakfast.”

  Sergio asked, “Will you be okay in the kitchen with your father?”

  “I think it’s time my dad and I have a talk.” Nelson exited.

  Sherry followed her nephew.

  As Renata and I finished eating, I spotted the PFLAG sticker on her purse. Recalling what Freddy had told me about making connections, I said, “With right-wing politicians and judges trying to take away our rights, we need PFLAG now more than ever.”

  “I agree,” she replied.

  “Thank you again for standing on the front lines for LGBT equality.”

  Renata threw her arms around me and gave me a huge hug. After she released me, she said, “I’m doing what every mother should. Nobody should be treated like a second-class citizen, let alone boys as wonderful as my son.” She kissed his cheek, and he blushed.

  Finished eating, I rested my napkin on the table. “Though I wish it were under better circumstances, I’m happy Sergio and Nelson found each other.” I said to Sergio, “You guys make a great couple.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Renata beamed. “The first time Sergio brought Nelson to my apartment for dinner, I said to my son, ‘That’s the boy for you.’” She poked his arm. “Didn’t I say that, Sergio? Tell Andre.”