Dead Egotistical Morons

by Mark Richard Zubro

  “He went to his room earlier than everybody else. No one knows how he got to this psychologist. Probably someone trying to take advantage of the rich, make himself a name.”

  Turner said, “Clendenen claimed that the guys in the band picked on him. That only Roger protected him.”

  “You talked to him?”

  “Yes.”

  “In the hospital? How is he?”

  Turner said, “Getting some help. Did he seem depressed to you or unstable?”

  “These are emotional guys. It’s a hell of a life. You’re always on the edge.”

  “Downstairs it sounded like Mr. Blundlefitz and Mr. Zawicki had some questions set up.”

  “Yeah, I don’t get that. I’m going to be fired, but I want to help these boys. I’m not sure they do. Those two guys met for a couple hours early this afternoon. I don’t know what they decided. Something is up, and I don’t like it.”

  Hinkmeyer entered. “The rest of them should be up in a few minutes.” She carried several thick three-ring binders with her.

  Turner said, “We heard the rumor that Mr. Zawicki and other executives were having sex with the boys.”

  “Absolutely not true,” Hinkmeyer said.

  “Zawicki was,” Pastern said. “I don’t know about any others. I think I’d know.”

  “Jordan, how can you say such a thing?” Hinkmeyer asked.

  “How often was he having sex with them?” Turner asked.

  “I’m not sure. No one told me, but I figured it out over time. Who got to do things and who didn’t seemed pretty arbitrary until I realized a late-night visit to Zawicki’s home usually ended with something good happening for the visitor.”

  Hinkmeyer said, “Maybe they just talked.”

  Pastern said, “Maybe, but I doubt it.”

  “You have any proof?” Turner asked.

  “I don’t have pictures,” Pastern said, “but I think it’s time for some truth around here.”

  “Are you making any progress?” Hinkmeyer asked.

  “Not as much as we’d like,” Fenwick said.

  Turner said, “We’re getting reports that there was dissension in the band. That Roger was thinking of leaving.”

  Hinkmeyer said, “You get all kinds of tabloid rumors. Most of the ones about problems originated with Sherri Haupmin. I know Mr. Zawicki was trying to get rid of her. It was complicated because she wasn’t directly under contract to us. She was a bit of a problem, but the band was not going to break up.”

  Fenwick said, “Blundlefitz mentioned that he found some notes about a meeting where breaking up the band was discussed.”

  Neither of them admitted to having heard of such a meeting.

  “Dexter told me he was afraid of heights,” Turner said. “That he was forced to do all those stunts.”

  Pastern said, “I had to help him out a lot at first. We all did. It took some time before he got used to them. I didn’t think he was still afraid.”

  Hinkmeyer said, “I hadn’t heard anything lately. Jordan did a marvelous job with the boys making them feel at ease.”

  “What about Murial Arane, the choreographer?” Turner asked. “We were told she and Roger had disagreements.”

  “Murial?” Hinkmeyer said. “I’ll get her up here right now. She worked wonders with these boys.” She picked up a hotel phone and placed a call.

  While they waited for the choreographer, Fenwick asked, “Could you line up these kids’ personal assistants for interviews for when we’re done with Mr. Zawicki?”

  “Certainly. I’ll have them available for whenever you need them.”

  A few minutes later Murial Arane entered the room. She was Asian, slender and muscular, maybe in her mid-thirties, and stood about five foot two. She spoke in a soft voice.

  They sat across the room from Hinkmeyer and Pastern, out of earshot. Not hard to do in such a huge room.

  “Ms. Arane,” Turner said, “we’re wondering about your relationship with the members of the band.”

  She sighed. “I knew it would come to this. I worked with these guys for years. At first it was great. Then Roger would have a few questions. He did have some very good suggestions, but I’m paid to be the creative director. Every step in their first videos was mine. Every one. What was so wrong with success?”

  “What happened?” Turner asked.

  “Haupmin. That woman is evil incarnate. She knows nothing about dancing. Nothing. But no, she had to have everything changed. She barged into rehearsals. I finally talked to Mr. Zawicki, and he ordered her to be kept out. It wasn’t so bad after that.”

  “Did the guys get along?” Turner asked.

  “I worked with them, I didn’t judge them.”

  “We’re interested in your observations,” Turner said.

  “There were no fights that would cause murder. Galyak told stupid jokes, but that’s not a crime. Dex was a little shy about a lot of things. The guys kind of teased him, but guys tease about a lot of things. They teased me. There was a lot of back and forth. You dance for hours a day, you get close. I had a creative team second to none. We had a budget beyond that of any other group.”

  “We were told you were going to be fired,” Fenwick said.

  “I was not in danger of losing my job.”

  “Tell us about Roger,” Turner said.

  “A nice enough guy. Smart. You’ve heard about or at least seen the whole teddy bear thing.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He couldn’t have cared less about teddy bears or kids’ charities. He saw a couple other bands doing charity work. He decided it would be good for their image. That shirt-throwing thing? It was fake. The person was picked in advance. He knew who he was supposed to throw it to. It was always somebody connected with the band or the company or friends of someone with influence, maybe the kids of one of the employees, or like here, the winner of some contest. Don’t get me wrong. Roger was a nice guy, but he was a shrewd businessman first. That whole teddy bear thing got him and the band huge amounts of positive publicity.”

  “What about the other guys?” Turner asked. “How’d they feel about the charity?”

  “I’m not sure they cared a lot. If Roger suggested something, they usually went along. They weren’t a hard bunch to get along with.”

  She knew nothing else and left.

  Turner said, “Kind of blows the sweetness and light concept out of the water.”

  “I’m for that,” Fenwick said.

  11

  The door to the room swung open. Blundlefitz, Eudace, and Zawicki walked in. Eudace marched straight up to Pastern and said, “You lost another one.”

  “No one, no one, cares more about these boys than I do,” Pastern said. “They make a lot of money for the corporation and you people care about that, but no one cares about them the way I do. How dare you make such an accusation?”

  Eudace said, “I just made an observation.” He turned to the detectives. “We also need to reveal that before this tragedy, Jordan Pastern was going to be fired.”

  Pastern stood up. “What the hell?”

  Turner visualized rats deserting a sinking ship or turning on each other in desperation.

  Zawicki said, “That’s correct. Mr. Pastern had reason to harm me.”

  “This is bullshit,” Pastern said. “I knew nothing of this. I would never hurt these guys. You mother-fucking son of a bitch.”

  Everybody froze.

  Turner said, “Mr. Zawicki, you told us in our first interview that there were no disgruntled employees.”

  Zawicki licked his lips. “Jordan didn’t raise a fuss when we told him. He was going to go quietly. He would get a large severance package.”

  “You’re trying to frame me, you mother-fucking asshole.” Pastern lunged toward him. Eudace and Zawicki leapt back. Turner and Fenwick grabbed him before he could get far. Pastern was big and strong, but Turner was strong as well and Fenwick was certainly bigger.

  When Pastern was calm enough t
o be subdued, Fenwick said, “Someone is not telling the truth.”

  All three said, “I’m telling the truth.”

  Nasty glares all around. Turner didn’t think they were going to find out who was telling the truth at the moment. He said, “Mr. Blundlefitz told us he found notes from a meeting that talked about the band breaking up.”

  Zawicki said, “We make scenarios for what could happen, what might happen. He misunderstood what he found. He sees it differently now. I try to make sure my company has all contingencies covered. If it could happen, we’d like to plan for what we would do.”

  “Including the death of one of the band members?” Fenwick asked.

  “Yes,” Zawicki said. “I believe in dealing with reality. It can happen. I cannot leave my company in the lurch.”

  “That seems awfully cold,” Fenwick said.

  “This is a business,” Zawicki said. “Because I am good at business does not mean I am heartless.” He deigned to honor each of the detectives with a cold smile. “You should be talking to your boss right about now. I’m sure he’s trying to get in touch with you. This investigation is totally screwed up.”

  Blundlefitz pointed at the detectives. “You fucked with me last night. Now another one of the boys is missing. You’re going to be nothing in this town.”

  Fenwick said, “I wasn’t much interested in becoming ‘something’ in this town before I met you. Meeting you has not inspired me to want to be more than I am.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I may know what you mean, but I certainly don’t care if you know what I understand.”

  Everybody glowered at everybody for a few moments.

  Turner said, “We need to talk to Mr. Zawicki alone, please.” It was barely a whisper but carried more steel than all the skyscrapers in the city.

  Eudace, Hinkmeyer, and Pastern inched toward the door. Blundlefitz said, “Don’t let them threaten you.”

  Zawicki had his back to Blundlefitz so the reporter didn’t see the businessman’s sneer of contempt. Turner slowly walked toward Blundlefitz and stopped two feet away. “Get. Out.” Quieter than a zephyr. Harder than titanium. Turner fixed his eyes on Blundlefitz’s until the reporter lowered his and turned away.

  “Yes, go,” Zawicki said. “I can handle this.”

  The four others left. Zawicki sat down on a chair of red leather and teak. Fenwick remained in the background. Turner stepped slowly toward Zawicki and stood over him.

  “What?” Zawicki demanded.

  Turner let the silence lengthen beyond the comfortable. Then he leaned in even closer and said, “I spent some time with a young man today.” His voice was so soft Fenwick could barely hear him from fifteen feet away. “A very frightened young man. Dexter Clendenen came to my house early this morning.”

  “So that’s where he was.”

  “How’d you get my home address?” Turner asked.

  “I had my people do some basic research. We didn’t find out he was missing until the hospital called, and it was on the news. It’s interesting that he was at your house. Were you keeping that information…”

  Turner interrupted. “I’m going to talk now and you’re going to be very, very quiet.” Deadly soft. Fenwick might rage, and shift from volcanic to ice-cold arctic to impress or intimidate, but Turner had the ability to command those he wanted to listen to him. With Fenwick there was always an explosion waiting just underneath. The tension came in wondering when, not if, the explosion would come. Turner relied on his sense of himself, a sense of presence, a confidence, a self-assurance. His quietness was without pretense. He didn’t need a podium and a microphone to make a point. Turner pulled over a metal-frame chair with a chrome bottom. He sat so that his knees almost touched Zawicki’s.

  “Dexter confirmed what we already knew,” Turner said. “You screwed every member of the band. Why didn’t you tell us this important fact?”

  “Who told you this besides poor deluded Dexter?”

  “We have other sources as well,” Fenwick said. “We were also told that the other executives had sex with the guys in the band.”

  “I don’t know about that. I doubt it. Feel free to ask them. They, as well as I, get to confront any accuser. My having sex with them is important only in terms of what they were required to do for the band. It has nothing to do with the murder. If they wouldn’t let me have sex with them, they couldn’t be in the group. So what? That was years ago.”

  “They’re all gay?” Fenwick asked.

  “I assume they’re all straight. I never asked. They never told. I don’t care. Their public image had to stay intact, and they had to be willing to service me.”

  Fenwick said, “They have to be fucked by you to get into the band, or they have to keep fucking you any time you want, or both?”

  “Definitely to get in. I didn’t push them too much after that. Once I had them, that was usually enough. And there’s always a group that wants to form another band.”

  “It’s a requirement for all the guys in all the bands in your company?” Fenwick asked.

  “It’s less than fifty people. These guys know you have to pay a high price for fame. Most of them are nice, middle-class boys who have a lot of ambition. I’m willing to help them fulfill that. I believe I deserve some fulfillment in return. They were perfectly free to say no and leave. They had to have sex with me before they were added to the group. I made it clear that they would need to continue servicing me if I wished. After the first time, I seldom asked.”

  “This didn’t piss them off?” Fenwick asked. “None of them said they resented it? None of them tried to stop it?”

  “I’m the gravy train. A great, big, huge gravy train. The largest and longest gravy train they were ever going to be on. I’ve made these young men very, very rich.”

  Fenwick said, “Yeah, but these groups can go to different companies. They can make other deals.”

  “Not with the contracts my lawyers draw up.”

  “You put a clause saying sex was required with the company owner into their contracts?” Fenwick asked.

  “No, of course not, but to make this kind of money, they had to obey the rules. We didn’t try to cheat them like some of the labels do. They signed. A contract is a contract.”

  “Fucking somebody against their will seems like a violation to me,” Fenwick said.

  “Are you a lawyer?” Zawicki asked.

  “I’m as close to one as you’re going to see for the moment.”

  “Which is not good enough for an indictment.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Fenwick admitted.

  “I’m not some politician that the right-wing wants to smear to death. I’m just a business owner.”

  “Nobody in their families got upset about your sexual relationship with them?” Fenwick asked.

  “I don’t know who they told, if anybody. I don’t think it makes sense to look there for a motive for murder. If a friend or relative was angry about what I was doing to their little darlings, you would think they would want to kill me, not their son, or brother, or best friend.”

  This last statement made sense to Turner. If you’re being abused, you don’t murder the one getting abused. Unless.

  “Was one of the boys angry about having to service you and threatening to expose you?” Turner asked. “That might give you a motive.”

  “Blackmail? No. If they accuse me, they are implicitly part of the sexual activity. They have as much invested in their image as I. They may be able to besmirch me, if they were able to prove they actually had sex with me. Believe me, there is no pair of underwear with my DNA on it in their possession. They might score points against me, but once a whiff of scandal was associated with the band, all those prepubescent girls would begin drooling over someone else. There would be no more rides to attend Boys4u concerts from doting parents.”

  “Maybe one of the guys was willing to risk it?” Turner asked.

  “I’m sure you will investigate the po
ssibility. No one was trying to blackmail me. You will find no record of threatening notes because there aren’t any. Ask the boys. They won’t say they were if they weren’t.”

  “We can ask all but one,” Turner said. “Maybe he was the one.”

  “There is no proof, because none exists,” Zawicki reiterated. “By all means, check with them.”

  Fenwick asked, “What if a guy who wanted to be in a band didn’t go along and told?”

  Zawicki sighed. “If I told someone it was a condition for me hiring them, in reality, I’d already decided to do so. It was a bluff that never failed. Plus I have power. Real power in the music industry. A threat by me to destroy any possible career for any of them was very real. Everyone knew I could and would do it. I’ve done it before for other reasons. I’m sure I’ll do it again.”

  Turner felt like he did when he stood in front of the deadly reptile cage at the zoo.

  “Did they have sex with each other?” Fenwick asked.

  “If they did, I don’t know about it.”

  Turner had had enough. He said, “You had power and control over them. You took advantage. That they were of age is not my concern. Your ability to harm them is. You may have made them rich, but a young man, a very troubled young man, was at my house this morning. He’s had a breakdown. I imagine before he got to you, he may have been a mess, but you are a big part of what is wrong with him. We’ll find out about his home life. We’ll try to pinpoint what went wrong. Maybe no one will ever know. What you did to him so that you could make a profit is unconscionable.”

  Zawicki didn’t meet Turner’s eyes. He squirmed in the chair as if trying to put more space between himself and the angry detective.

  “Do you even care that Roger Stendar died?” Turner asked.

  “Of course I care. So I’m not weeping like a fourteen-year-old girl. That is not a crime. I learned long ago not to weep. I’ll have time for tears later. I want his killer found. No one more than I. I’m doing whatever I can to make that happen.”