File Under Dead

by Mark Richard Zubro

“What?”

  “The demented-Miss-Marple defense.”

  “We could try the client-pushed-the-lawyer-off-the-cliff gambit.”

  “Never works.” He sighed. “Who is it?”

  “Jan, the kid who…”

  “I remember. Maybe somebody wanted to shut him up. Of course, that would limit the suspects to only the people who ever met him.”

  I said, “I think that would be funnier if I hadn’t just found the body.”

  “It’s not the first gay kid committing suicide in the city. It won’t be the last.”

  “Doesn’t make it feel any better.”

  “You sure it’s suicide?”

  “I’m not sure of anything except I’m nervous and uncertain.”

  Todd told me he’d be down. I phoned the police. Larry called his dad. I spoke to him briefly. How could he sound anything but unhappy?

  After the calls, Larry said, “Your lawyer sounds like kind of an odd guy, although he was nice to me.”

  “Todd thinks sarcasm and wit are the highest art forms. He likes to tease. He’s great.”

  “I didn’t tell the police or the lawyer about Mr. Weaver coming back.”

  “It hasn’t come up in my discussions with them.”

  “Maybe I should have just run like hell and not told anyone.”

  “Could you really have kept silent?”

  “I guess not. It was awful.”

  I said, “If this one is suicide, and it sure looks that way, then the deaths probably aren’t connected. If somehow it’s not suicide, we know Lee didn’t do it—he’s still in jail.”

  “I don’t want it to be Mr. Weaver.”

  “Neither do I,” I said. “Tell me what you can about Jan.”

  “He was a jerk. I already told you how I hated that effeminate shit. I don’t get that. I’m interested in guys. I don’t want to be a woman or dress in woman’s clothes. If I wanted a woman, I wouldn’t be dating guys. I don’t want to get in touch with my feminine side. I don’t even understand what they’re talking about when someone says that. Is that a gay thing?”

  “Some people confuse being gay with gender identity issues. Others seem to think particular emotions or the ability to be in touch with them belongs to one sex or the other. Then there’s the whole drag queen phenomenon. In Jan’s case, my guess is, he assumed that persona to get attention.”

  “It sure seemed like an act. He used to zero in on me at meetings. He always wanted me to talk more. I think he thought if I shared my feelings, he could claim he was closer to me than he was. Getting my attention seemed so important to him. I didn’t understand it. It annoyed me more than anything.”

  “I imagine he’s been picked on for a very long time. Most likely jocks have played a part in that.”

  “I never pick on anybody. Ever.”

  “Do you intervene if somebody else is being picked on?”

  “Yes.”

  A brave young man.

  “Or speak up when somebody makes harmful gay jokes or gay slurs?”

  He hesitated. “Usually.”

  Perhaps as brave as many of us.

  He asked, “If it’s not suicide, why would someone want to kill Jan? He was an annoying asshole, but I don’t see why anybody would want to kill him. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Unless it’s connected with Charley Fitch’s murder.”

  “You think it might be?”

  “I think it could be. I don’t know. I’d like to find out where Jan was all day today. I wonder if he knew something about what happened Friday night and Saturday morning.”

  Larry said, “He asked me once if I wanted to do a three-way with him and another guy. I think the other guy wasn’t very interested in him but was interested in me. The whole idea was creepy. It was like, maybe Jan wanted to watch.”

  “Or he thought it was the only possible way he could get physically close to you.”

  Larry said, “What if he saw me? Maybe he came back that night to try and watch me and my friend. Maybe he didn’t leave. Jan is the kind of guy who’d get his kicks out of watching. That’s kind of sick.”

  “How could he get down there without being heard?”

  “We were always very quiet down there. Lots of kids used this place when there were adults upstairs. No one came down. The basement is kind of bleak and miserable. There’s no real heat in the winter. From late spring to early fall, it’s not so bad. It can be spooky. Some of the kids got off on it being scary. We’d talk about doing one of those teen slasher movies with gay characters. It was kind of a joke. Everybody was so tired of Jan walking up behind them and shouting boo. He could always beat a joke to death.”

  The police showed up. It’s an understatement to say that Detectives Abernathy and Stafford were not happy.

  Larry’s dad arrived. The police took the two of them to a separate venue for questioning. While I waited my turn, I had time to sit and reflect.

  I was miserable about Jan’s death. I was horrified if it was murder. If it was suicide, and it sure looked that way, I felt guilty as well. I remembered Dustin, Lee’s lover, saying Jan was a strong kid. From what I’d seen, there were no signs of a struggle. I could ask the cops if there was any forensic evidence of one. I know I’d disparaged Jan often. Not to his face, but perhaps I and the other adults could have reacted differently, somehow saved him. The poor kid didn’t deserve to die. I could imagine the world being a quieter place without Jan, and that thought made me feel worse. His being dead didn’t make me like him, but if his death was a suicide, it was a tragedy. If it was murder, there was little question in my mind that it had something to do with Charley Fitch’s death. A logical, but unproven assumption, was that Jan might have been investigating and got caught up in something way too big for himself. Whether he actually did know anything, or the killer just thought he did, Jan might have had to be gotten rid of. It was possible that finding out who Jan had talked to and why he was dead would go a long way toward answering a lot of the questions about Fitch’s death. Two deaths in two days in the same venue not being related? I found that hard to believe.

  24

  I met Jan’s parents. They looked like a perfectly ordinary suburban couple. Their faces showed strain and tears. I only talked to them for a few moments.

  “You found him?” Mr. Aiello asked.

  “Yes, I’m sorry.” They were led away.

  Larry’s dad turned out to be a decent enough guy. Mr. Mullen certainly had the remnants of the heft required to play college sports. He had sandy brown hair turning to gray. We talked for a few minutes. He neither yelled nor blustered.

  Mr. Mullen said, “What kind of world is it that makes it so hard for kids like mine, that gives them so many obstacles?”

  I said, “Larry is worried about how you’re dealing with him being gay.”

  “Hell, I’m not happy about it, but he’s my kid. I do my best with him. I just think it’s harder for him being this way. I don’t want him to change. I do want him to survive. Who is this kid who’s dead?”

  I told him about Jan.

  Mr. Mullen said, “Yeah, I don’t get that effeminate crap. My kid didn’t know him, did he?”

  “He’d met him here at the clinic. I haven’t heard of any fights or problems between them. Jan might have had a mild crush on Larry. That’s not a crime.” I doubted if it would lead to murder, but I’d have to check out Jan’s feelings.

  “What are the police going to do?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  He said, “He called you and not me.”

  What could I say to that?

  Into the silence, Mr. Mullen said, “At least he had somebody to call.”

  I didn’t ask about his earlier fight with Larry, the one that drove him out of the house. He was here now. That’s what counted.

  After Larry and my lawyer finished with the cops, they stopped by where I was waiting to be interviewed. Larry’s shoulders didn’t look like they could droop any furth
er. I hoped he’d recover from the horror of what he’d seen. His dad thanked me for helping out. Larry hugged me tightly and whispered, “Thanks.” They left.

  Abernathy and Stafford badgered me for a bit. Todd kept the worst of their attacks at bay.

  When they seemed to have run out of questions, I asked, “Did Jan commit suicide or was he murdered?”

  Abernathy said, “You’ve got the nerve to ask us questions?”

  “Yeah. It’s not illegal to ask.”

  “Yeah,” Stafford said, “it’s also not legally required for us to give you any information.”

  I asked, “Can you give me any details about what happened to Charley Fitch?”

  I got a lot of silence from the cops. I decided what the hell, I had a bunch of questions, why not go for broke. Anything beyond silence would be a plus, right? I asked, “How did the killer get Fitch to hold still? Did he lure him to the basement? I haven’t heard anything about blood anywhere else in the clinic. Why kill him down there? What difference did it make to the killer where he killed him? If he was upstairs getting the ax from Lee’s office, why go back downstairs?”

  “Excellent questions,” Abernathy said.

  I said, “I appreciate the positive reinforcement, but am I going to get any answers?”

  More silence.

  I said, “I’m up to my nipples in this. If I was the killer I’d already know the answers to these questions. If I’m not, what does it hurt to tell me?”

  Todd said, “Please tell us what you can. Perhaps if we knew more, we’d be able to help.”

  Stafford said, “Charley Fitch was killed by a blow with the ax from behind. That would need somebody large and strong, such as yourself.”

  Todd said, “Or a very lucky or very strong smaller person.”

  “Maybe,” Abernathy said.

  Undaunted, I asked another question. “Did Charley Fitch struggle? Where there signs of a fight?”

  Instead of answering, the police tried to have me go through everything again. Todd said, “Once is enough.”

  When the police were done with me and I was outside, Daisy Tajeda walked up. She said, “Are you all right, Tom?”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  She said, “They made me temporary director of the clinic. I’m sorry this had to happen to you, but I’m glad Larry Mullen had someone to turn to.”

  I nodded.

  Todd said, “I know it’s late, but Lee is in the Rainbow Café. He said he’d wait for you. I don’t know if he’s still there.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “I’ll let you decide.”

  “Did he come with you?”

  “I was picking him up when you called. This is my first chance to talk to you without the police around since I got here.”

  Tajeda said, “I was over there. He very much wants to talk to you, Tom.”

  I said, “I need to talk to him as well.” I was glad Lee was out. I was tired and would have preferred to go home, but I was also still very pissed at Lee for lying about going back to the clinic. I wanted some answers.

  The Rainbow Café was a twenty-four-hour operation. Late night in winter, watching snow gently falling, with books and wood and warmth around you and the soft flakes filling the night was a joy to look upon.

  Lee looked like hell. He said, “Tajeda told me about Jan. Christ, what is wrong with this world? Jan would be one of the last kids to commit suicide. What the hell happened?”

  “No one knows for sure. It looks like suicide, but with one murder already at the clinic, I presume they’re being extra careful.”

  “You found him?”

  “Larry Mullen did. He called me.”

  “How is he?”

  “Not so good.”

  “I should try and talk to him.”

  “He says he went down there to commit suicide himself.”

  “Ah, jeez, the poor kid. I like him. He and I have talked a lot. I had hoped he was past that. His dad has strong ambivalent feelings about Larry being gay. Did Larry cry for you?”

  I gave him a quizzical look.

  Lee said, “The kid is a crier. For such a big kid, it is a little odd. His dad is one of the those guys who goes to every one of his kid’s games.”

  “That’s good.”

  “And bellows and screams and constantly points out faults. I went to one of Larry’s games. The kid was not exaggerating. There’s lots of verbal abuse in that family, most of it connected with athletics.”

  I said, “Larry is afraid if he’s openly gay, he’ll lose his scholarships and his chance to play football in college.”

  “He probably would. Football is almost that kid’s entire world. He sublimates most of his desires into sports. I’ll try and call him tomorrow. Did he seem okay when you left him?”

  “About himself, yeah. About finding the body, no.”

  “Why would Jan want to kill himself? His confidence was real. What you saw was what you got. He was up so much, it was hard for people to see there was a down side there.”

  “I always assumed there was. I assume this was not his first attempt.”

  “I don’t know about that. I can’t believe he’d do it. Jan would spew his highs on anyone. He’d be more likely to talk himself to death. Any of his friends who listened long enough might suffer the same fate. All Jan all the time is not a pretty thought.”

  I said, “If somebody killed him, it was a clumsy way to commit murder.”

  “So is chopping somebody up with an ax. When did this happen?”

  “They didn’t tell me.”

  “If it was murder, at least they can’t accuse me of that one. Your lawyer is a saint.”

  “That’s how I usually refer to him, Saint Todd.”

  “The cops told me not to leave town. I thought I was in a lousy television crime show. How’d your lawyer have that much money for bail? Dustin and I don’t have that kind of cash. Did you and Scott pay?”

  “Yes.”

  “We can’t pay you back.”

  “There isn’t going to be a need. You didn’t do it. We need to do everything we can to prevent a trial. We need to find out who did it.”

  “Thank you. A thousand times, thank you.”

  “Have you seen Dustin?” I thought it odd that he hadn’t gone home first or called Dustin to pick him up from jail. Perhaps Todd was convenient, but I know my first impulse after such a horrific experience would be to be with Scott. Maybe all wasn’t well in their relationship.

  “I haven’t been home yet. I called him on my cell phone while your lawyer drove me. I came to see you because I wanted to find out what was going on. Your lawyer said people had been congregating over here. What’s happened since I was taken away?”

  I told him. When I got to the part about the kids in the basement, I said, “You were pretty quiet when that was brought up in the café. Did you know about them using it for trysts?”

  “Hell, I used to use it for trysts when I was a kid. And it had been in use for years before that. It was a known place to meet. It’s probably been used since the weekend after they opened the clinic. Kids are resourceful.”

  “But as an adult you felt no need to do something about it?”

  “No. Hell, it was fun. You could make out, and you could listen to the adults sometimes. Snarly always used to stay late. One time he was entertaining some guy, probably a call boy. It was hysterical. Us kids laughed about it for ages. That night he was begging the call boy to ride him like a stallion. We thought that was gross and funny.”

  “Snarly being sexually odd would be amusing to repressed teenagers.”

  “I guess. The basement was an outlet. A safe haven. I was not about to take that away from the kids. As long as they used condoms and common sense, I didn’t care.”

  I sort of agreed. “But you took a job knowing about the fights and about Fitch’s peccadilloes.”

  “There’s no better place for accomplishing what I wanted to. Every place has a boss. Every place
has oddities.”

  “The kids were down there the night of Fitch’s murder. Two of them heard you go back a second time to talk to Fitch.” I watched him carefully.

  He had the grace not to attempt to deny his presence.

  “Who heard me?”

  “Not relevant.”

  He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  I said, “I don’t like being lied to.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I was wrong. I was worried about being accused.”

  “Did you tell Todd?”

  “No. Did the kids tell the police?”

  “No.”

  “Have you?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “They like you. I like you.”

  “Still?”

  “Yes. A little less than I did forty-eight hours ago, but this is a murder investigation. Things can get very screwed up very fast.”

  “I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry. You’ve been a friend for a long time. I treated you like shit. And you’re a suspect. And the kids are in trouble. I’ve betrayed who I am and my profession.”

  He was miserable. In a lot of ways I thought he should be. I don’t like being lied to, but I had history with him. I’d helped him as a kid. While that didn’t obligate me forever, there was a bond he had strained but had not yet broken.

  Why was I helping him? Because I looked at him and saw the seventeen-year-old gay kid who came out to me when he was in high school. And up to now he had been a genuinely nice guy.

  I said, “You came to talk to me yesterday when you were worried you might have been the last to see him. Why didn’t you tell me about the second visit?”

  “I figured no one had seen me. It was so late. I was ashamed of how I’d acted. I really was petrified of losing this job. I’ve got a lot of heavy bills. My student loans are crushing, but I’m in this for the kids. I know I can do a lot of good for them.”

  I knew that was true. I was also aware that he was financially strapped. After he announced he was gay, Lee’s parents had refused to spend a penny toward his college education.

  Lee was saying, “Dustin’s in no position to pick up the slack for all our bills. I wouldn’t want him to if he could. I’m not in a relationship with him so I can be supported.” I didn’t bother to remind him that he could sell his expensive yellow Corvette.