File Under Dead

by Mark Richard Zubro

  “He didn’t tell me who his boss was, but that he had some connection to Ken Wells.”

  Karek said, “He agreed to volunteer at the clinic and to investigate. I actually got more from him than I did from Jakalyn or Ken. From Jakalyn I got more gossip than actual data. But there’s more. Much more. Let me explain.” He took a sip of coffee then began. “First of all, those kids were right. I’d been to the clinic a couple weeks ago. I guess half the planet knows about that now. They need to keep a tighter rein on those kids.”

  “I doubt if there’s going to be much to rein in after this killing. I suspect the place is simply going to fold up.”

  “Oh. I guess you’re right. They’ll have a hard time getting funding.”

  “They do good work.”

  “I know. I went there a few times when I was in high school. Charley Fitch hadn’t changed.”

  “You knew him then?”

  “He never really spent much time with the kids. He talked to our group a couple times. He mostly seemed interested in getting away as soon as he could. We were introduced to each other once. When I met him as an adult, he never said he remembered me. There was no reason he would. Back then the clinic was just as crazy as it is now. This was fourteen, fifteen years ago.”

  “When you went there, did the kids use the basement for trysting?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You just said the kids needed to be reined in.”

  “Well, yeah, I guess I’m older. I guess I’m a hypocrite. Sue me.”

  “Did you listen to adult conversations back then?”

  “Nah. In those days we could roam through the whole downstairs. It hadn’t been renovated, and they hadn’t started using it for storage. It still had dirt floors and rats and who knew what else. The adults avoided the place. But teenagers are kind of nuts and desperate. Only a few brave souls ever dared to enter the basement. It was sort of like those scary movie things with people staying in a haunted house. We only used the room in the first building far in the back nearest the alley. No one wanted to listen. People made out, but nobody stayed all that long. I guess after they renovated, it wasn’t so bad. Old, dank, and miserable or new, dank, and miserable, the kids still found a way to use it for their trysts.”

  I pointed at Reece. “Did you two meet back then?”

  Reece said, “No. We met on one of those gay cruises in the Caribbean. I’ve never been in the basement.”

  I asked, “Did Charley Fitch have enemies back then?”

  “Us kids heard about fights. I saw one guy, Arnold something, who almost had a physical fight with Charley. I didn’t pay much attention. I was a teenager. Mostly I worried about getting my dick sucked. Isn’t that why gay kids go to these groups? To get laid?”

  “At least to meet others like themselves.”

  “You’re not one of those idealistic ones who thinks they’re having meaningful discussions? Charley Fitch was like that. Boring. I bet Charley has given that same Gay 101 sociology lecture since the invention of dirt. It was useless when he gave it more than a decade ago. Through most of it, I was wondering if the kid sitting across from me would be interested in having sex. Isn’t that the way with most gay groups, especially gay teens?”

  “I worked at the clinic to help kids.”

  “Well, we’ll declare you a saint. How many people have gorgeous, rich, famous baseball players as lovers? You live a fantasy life.”

  I said, “My life doesn’t include being insulted by you, putting up with your observations, being interested in you as a human being, or in helping you not be a suspect.” I figured that pretty well blew any further discussion with him.

  Reece put his hands on his lover’s arm. His voice thrummed a gentle remonstrance. “Billy.”

  Karek pulled back some and then drew a deep breath. He said, “Sorry, I apologize. I get so passionate. I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut. I get angry so quickly at gay groups. I’m sorry. I can really give you information that might help solve the murder. Your friend has been arrested. You want to help. I don’t know if Charley got along with any more people back then than he does now. Other than with that Arnold guy, I never saw anything close to a physical fight. I also never saw him with a date or anything. I wasn’t paying much attention.”

  “Did you have an appointment to meet the night the kids heard you?”

  “No. I knew from years ago that Charley often stayed very late. I was embarrassed about what happened at the television station. I wanted to apologize. I was at least half at fault. I wanted to try and reach a truce with him. For the good of the community. It had been months, but we were scheduled to be on that show again. I wanted to avoid more fireworks. That night at the show wasn’t our first fight, and maybe it wasn’t even our worst. But there’s also a big foundation fundraiser coming up, and we’re both on the planning committee. We were put on it before we had the public brawl. The organizers begged me to make peace for the sake of their group. I thought I could talk to Charley. I went to him that night to try to reason with him.”

  I said, “Maybe you should have scheduled a fight and sold tickets. You might have made a fortune for everybody involved.”

  Karek almost smiled. “I’m afraid there’s more. I don’t know who else to turn to. The people in this community are cut-throat creeps. I need you to trust me. I’m willing to give you valuable information, but you have to promise not to take it to the police.”

  “If you confess to murder, I am not going to keep it quiet.”

  “I have nothing to confess to. I didn’t kill him. Maybe I can help you figure out who did.”

  “Why not just trust the police?”

  “I see them as agents of a collectivist state.”

  “That’s a bit strong.”

  “I am not fond of the police. Anybody who knows gay history is wary of the cops. I’m offering to put my fate in your hands.”

  That sounded awfully melodramatic. Still, I would be stupid not to listen.

  Reece said, “Billy, are you sure you want to tell this?”

  Karek patted his hand. “I’ve got to trust somebody.”

  I said, “I won’t make unconditional promises. If you confess to a crime, I will turn you in.”

  “Fair enough.” He drew a deep breath. “We’ll be working together for the good of the community.”

  Please. “Isn’t that rather collectivist?”

  “Touché. I was there. At the clinic. Last night. We fought again. Why that man couldn’t see reason, I don’t know.”

  “You were there last night? The kids said the other night.”

  “I was there last night as well.”

  “What time?”

  “About nine. I was going one last time to talk to him.”

  “Why not just call him on the phone?”

  “It did no good to try and talk to him on the phone. He loved to be able to hang up on you before you could hang up on him. It was childish but effective. At least he thought so. You met him face to face or not at all.”

  “Did you see anyone else?”

  “I thought I saw a short blond guy at one end of the alley behind the clinic, but I didn’t get a good look at him. Maybe a little pudgy.”

  Jan was short, blond, and a little pudgy. “So, you’ve got no alibi.”

  “I do for when I got home. My lover can vouch for the time I arrived home, just before ten.”

  “How’d you get into the clinic?”

  “Charley opened the door for me.”

  “How could you be sure he was there?”

  “I’d called Jakalyn.”

  “She knew you were planning to go there?”

  “Yes.”

  “She lied to the police for you?” I asked.

  “I guess.”

  “Not ‘guess.’ You got somebody else mixed up in this.”

  “She’s not ‘mixed up’ in anything. I didn’t kill him. I swear to God he was alive when I left. He looked red enough in the face to have a stro
ke, but he was breathing.”

  “Have you told the police this?”

  “No. You’re not going to, are you? I’m trusting you here, in the hopes of getting information.”

  “Or making me an accessory after the fact. Why didn’t the kids hear you last night?”

  “We didn’t scream and carry on last night. Maybe none of them was down there when I was around. Maybe they were preoccupied. When a date and I were down there, I usually was. Maybe they were too involved in intimate activities and didn’t give a rat’s ass. I was determined not to yell last night. I’m really worried. I was there. If this gets out, my reputation is ruined. I’d be a suspect. The goddamn news shows are already replaying that goddamn fight scene with Charley.” He shuddered. “I was no saint at that interview. He may have started it, but I tried to belt him with that chair. And I look like a fucking wimp, cowering there and him swinging that microphone at my head.”

  I said, “This was all about image and reputation, trying to be more butch than the other guy?”

  “Anything connected with Charley is going to be tainted. These cops are being very thorough. Charley Fitch knew the mayor and other politicians. Charley may have been controversial in the community and nearly universally hated, but he was the token gay person they put on all their committees. Before me, he was the one the straight politicians and media people turned to. The police don’t want any mistakes. The mayor’s got an election coming up next year, and he wants Democrats elected in Springfield this November. Gays have lots of money and plenty of votes.”

  As Glen Poshard, a downstate Democrat, discovered when he ran for governor and wouldn’t endorse anything pro-gay. The gay community had deserted his gubernatorial candidacy in droves. The demographic comparison between his race for governor and the senate race that year made it clear how important the gay voting bloc was. If you wanted to win as a Democrat statewide in Illinois, you alienated the gay community at your peril.

  I said, “The police interrogated you, and you didn’t admit to any of this?”

  “No.”

  “Even if you didn’t do it, you should probably be talking to a lawyer.”

  “I’ve met Lee. He’s a good guy. I can’t believe he’d kill anybody. I can’t believe I would. That night at the television station, I think I was capable of anything. I never thought I was that kind of person, but Charley Fitch’s goddamn arrogance just drove me nuts.”

  “We all fantasize about doing a lot of stuff we’d be arrested for if we actually did. I understand you’re worried about being a suspect, but I still don’t understand how I come into this.”

  “You know things. People tell you stuff. Can you keep me up to date about what you find out about anything? I want to make sure I don’t become a suspect.”

  My “Why should I?” came out as, “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

  “I can’t be under suspicion for murder. I’m sure Lee didn’t do it. I know I didn’t. I think I need to find out who killed Charley. It’s protection for myself. Can you snoop around?”

  “Frankly, you’re my next best suspect as the murderer.”

  “I’m willing to risk you thinking I’m a suspect for your willingness to help me.”

  Karek was a conduit to Mandy Marlex and Albert Bergland. I didn’t want to be Karek’s friend, but I didn’t want to lose him as a possible source for further information.

  He said, “Knowing about the finances might help you clear Lee. I think this shows how much I want the truth to come out. The more truth there is the less likely I am to be a suspect.” He pulled a cell phone out of a black gym bag that was sitting on the seat next to him. “I’ll call now. I can get you introductions. I can get people to talk to you.” He held up the phone. “I’m willing to help.”

  Everything about this guy set off suspicion bells in my head, but he knew people. I wouldn’t tell the police about him unless I needed to. I almost hoped I needed to. I did not like this guy, but I said, “Okay.” I didn’t get a sense that he was dangerous. I hoped I was right about that. For now he was being helpful. I needed that.

  He made the calls. He set up meetings for early that afternoon with Mandy Marlex and Albert Bergland. Karek stood several feet away from the booth to make his calls. Reece leaned over to me and put his hand on my forearm. “Please,” he said, “I know Billy’s in trouble. Please, help him.”

  “What do you know?” I asked.

  “Nothing for sure. I’m worried. That’s all I can say.”

  He either didn’t know or was unwilling to say more.

  Karek came back and gave me the details on what he was able to set up.

  18

  It was the middle of the morning. The rain had let up. The day was cool and humid. For the moment the clinic was off limits. Gordon Jackson, the owner of the Rainbow Café, had agreed to let the staffers use the meeting rooms above the café to do business. I had agreed to stop over to see if they needed any help.

  The largest upstairs conference room was filled with volunteers, staff, kids, and a few parents from the clinic. Todd sat quietly on the dais reading a legal-looking document. He told me they were still processing Lee, and it would take quite a while longer. Daisy Tajeda was at the front of the room preparing to address the crowd. I saw a number of kids I recognized clustered together in chairs on the left near the back.

  Jan hurried up to me. “What’s happening with the investigation?” he asked. He was in a yellow zoot suit and a pink fedora. He was flipping his wrists and lisping worse than a drag queen who had just swallowed a bottle of speed. I wanted to slug him.

  “What time were you in the basement with your friend?”

  “Why would you even ask?” A flip and surly teenage drag queen.

  “What time?”

  His eyes shifted. Picking a time he hoped nobody else was there so no one could destroy his lie?

  “Eight, I think.”

  “What time were you in the alley that night?”

  “Did someone say they saw me?”

  “What time?”

  “I wasn’t in the alley. I was hanging around the café around ten, I think. There was so much going on. I don’t wear a watch. Can you tell me if someone saw me? What’s going on?”

  I said, “Nothing.” I put as much short, clipped go away as I could into my tone. He looked like a hurt puppy. I felt a little like a heel. The kid was being inquisitive, maybe even trying to help in his own inept way. Or the son of a bitch was in that alley or in the basement and knew something.

  Tajeda was saying, “The clinic will remain open. The board of directors will meet later today to name an interim director.” She began to explain the details of how various programs would continue. She finished, “The prom is still on. No matter what, it is going to happen.”

  “Is that good in an atmosphere of violence?” a woman near the front asked.

  Tajeda said, “We will do everything possible to ensure that the kids are going to be safe.”

  “You can’t guarantee their safety,” the same woman said.

  “You can’t guarantee they’re going to be safe crossing the street,” Tajeda responded. They began to wrangle about details for security for the prom.

  Larry, the football player I’d met the day before, sat down next to me. He whispered, “Can I talk to you?”

  We went downstairs and found a quiet table in one of the rooms near the back. I had coffee, black. He had a mocha calorie something.

  He took a sip of his drink, put it down, and placed his hands flat on the small table. He said, “I think I’d rather be dead.”

  I put my hand on his. He didn’t move. I met his eyes and didn’t look away.

  “What happened since last night?”

  “I called the guy I was making out with in the clinic basement. He won’t talk to me. He hung up on me.”

  “You told the police about the night when you heard Karek, but not last night.”

  “Yeah.”

  �
�Somebody’s going to need to talk to the guy you were making out with. The police wouldn’t be my choice.”

  “Maybe he’ll talk to you. If I can even get him to talk to me.” He sniffled. “My dad blew up at me last night. That lawyer guy of yours was really nice. He was great, but once he was gone, my dad went nuts. That’s how he’s always been. Like he was nice to teachers, then he’d get home and scream at me. I told the cops everything. Turns out, that was the easy part. This coming out is for shit. Your lover’s a baseball player. How does he do it? I wish I had somebody like he does. I want to be an athlete and be gay. I don’t want to fight any causes. I want a boyfriend like everybody else. I just want to be touched, to make love without any hassles. I want to be normal.” He started to cry. He whispered. “I just want to be normal.” A lament that young gay kids and older gay people too often make. Gay guilt. Some of us never get over it.

  I held his hand. He gripped mine tightly. I patted his arm. He slowly pulled himself together. One or two people looked over at us.

  I handed him some napkins and he blew his nose and wiped his eyes. When he was done, I said, “If it ever comes to a moment when you think you might hurt yourself, please call me.” I wrote down my number on a slip of paper. I said, “Tell the answering service who you are. I’ll leave your name with them. They’ll put you straight through.”

  “Thanks.” He sniffled and said, “Does this ever get easier?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It does. My guess is, you’ll fall in love, perhaps more than once in your life.”

  “Everything seems kind of hopeless.”

  “The impression you gave me yesterday is that you’re a good guy, sensible, with a grasp on what’s real. You can get through this. There are good people who can help you. Especially don’t give up on yourself. Please don’t hurt yourself. I care. When I was talking to Scott, my lover, last night, he’d said he’d be happy to meet with you. He’s willing to help. In a couple years I’d like to come see you play in a college football game. You’ve got a lot to offer the sports world, but even more, I think you’ve got a lot to offer everybody.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Mason.”