Three-Ways: A Detectives Seagate and Miner Mystery

by Mike Markel

  She nodded.

  I turned to Ryan. “Do you have any questions for Ms. Eberlein.”

  Ryan was sitting there, his head bowed. “No.”

  “Would you get an officer to drive Ms. Eberlein back to campus?”

  Ryan nodded, stood up, and left the interview room.

  I announced the time and stated that we were concluding the interview. Then I walked over to the video controls and shut the system down, glad to be done, at least for the moment, with the lovely Ms. Eberlein. We’d finally gotten her to tell the truth about who was fucking who, but she was still lying. She wanted us to believe she acted like a bitch to Kathy to make Kathy hate her. That was bullshit. I think May acted like a bitch because she was a bitch.

  Chapter 17

  “You in there, partner?” I said.

  Ryan was sitting next to me in Interview 1, hands on the table, fingers interlaced, tapping his thumbs together slowly. A couple seconds went by, then he looked up at me. “I’m here, Karen,” he said softly. “Just barely.”

  “What is it?” I said. “All that talk about screwing make you uncomfortable?”

  “What’s wrong with those people?”

  “Well, one of them was strangled, so he’s dead.” Ryan looked at me, his expression as close to disdain as I’ve ever seen on him. “The two women?” I exhaled, my palms up in the air. “No idea what’s going on with them.”

  “I understand,” he said. “You’re young, you’re trying to figure things out. Who you are, who you want to be with—”

  “Whether you’re straight or gay.”

  “Whatever,” he said. “I’m fine with all that. But these three—there doesn’t seem to be any relationship between sex and love at all. I mean, it’s almost like they’re using sex as a weapon against each other.” He sighed. “Am I totally missing something?”

  “You know, Ryan, if you want to understand what these folks are up to, I think you’re talking to the wrong person. But it’s possible—technically, it’s possible—that there’s some kind of … I don’t know, some sort of love or maybe affection or kindness, some type of hunger for closeness or something. Listen, I can’t explain what we’re seeing here. All I’m saying is, maybe Kathy really is in love with May. Maybe May was in love with Austin. I really don’t know. And Austin? Shit, I have no idea what—if anything—Austin was in love with, except maybe his own reflection in a pool.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ryan said, sitting up straight as if to shake off his mood. “I’m getting off track here, wasting our time. It’s not our job to figure out why they live the way they do.”

  “You’re right. We just have to figure out how Austin Sulenka died. We gotta start with the idea that all this screwing is consensual. Whatever else this sex is, it’s not rape. So let’s just figure out who had a reason to kill him, and take it from there.”

  Ryan nodded. “This one’s going to turn on motive. Since he would apparently screw any woman who’d have him, there was no shortage of opportunity. And means was easy, too: a shirtsleeve would do it. As long as the woman had enough upper-body strength to pull a cinch tight around his neck, she’s in play.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “except that we don’t know he partied only with women. The waitress next door told us there’d be three couples humping away at one time in the apartment. Who’s to say one of those guys didn’t throttle him—”

  “Because Austin was doing his girl.”

  “That would be a very conventional attitude.” I nodded. “Or Austin was doing a better job of screwing his girl. Boys can be competitive, right?”

  “Okay, so how do you read May’s latest story?” Ryan said.

  “You mean the creepy part about how she’d do Kathy, then she’d do Austin?”

  “Leaving the creepiness aside, do you believe it? How Kathy found Austin repulsive?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Except for that amazing rod, I think I’d find him repulsive, too.”

  “I mean, when May says that shows Kathy couldn’t have killed him.”

  “Well, no,” I said. “That could be May’s way of pointing us to Kathy.”

  “But that doesn’t necessarily mean Kathy didn’t do it,” Ryan said. “It could be May letting us do the detective work.”

  “Because she can’t bring herself to say Kathy did it?”

  “May is afraid that Kathy killed him, so she’s laying out a motive for us to follow up on.”

  “Or May killed him,” Ryan said, “but she’s worried her good looks might be a detriment as she sits in prison the rest of her life.”

  “Let’s not forget Austin nailed the freshman moron around seven. He did May around ten. He died maybe midnight. Plenty of time for one more girl—”

  “Or for Tiffany’s knuckle-dragging roommate, Brian, to come back and kill him,” Ryan said.

  “Or Kathy.”

  We weren’t getting anywhere. There were too many people could’ve killed Austin, too many who might’ve wanted him dead, too many willing to lie to us.

  “Ryan, who drove May back to campus just now?”

  “Officer Winthrop. Why?”

  “Get her on the radio, would you? Ask her to meet us at our desks when she gets back.”

  He got up and left Interview 1. I headed down to the break room. It was about eleven-forty, close enough to lunch time. I got the lasagna leftover I’d brought in this morning. I nuked it, watching the time on the little screen count down. I took the plastic out of the microwave, burned my fingertips on it like I do every damn time, and carried it back to my desk.

  “Winthrop should be here in a couple of minutes.” Ryan was eating a sandwich at his desk. “Want to tell me why you want to talk to her?”

  I put down my fork. “I’ll tell you if you want. Or I could not tell you.” I took a sip of cold coffee left over from when I came in a few hours ago. “Up to you.”

  Officer Winthrop came walking over to our desks. Ryan smiled. “Guess I’ll find out now.”

  “Debbie,” I said, “thanks for coming over.” She nodded. “When you drove that tall girl back to campus a couple minutes ago, where’d she tell you to drop her?”

  “The parking lot next to the Humanities Building,” she said. “Why?”

  “Just trying to figure out what she’s up to,” I said. “Did you notice what kind of car she got into?”

  “She just asked me to pull over at the entrance to the lot. I didn’t see her get in a car.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks a lot.”

  “No problem,” Officer Winthrop said. She turned and left.

  “Well,” Ryan said, “I listened, but I don’t yet understand.”

  “Get your jacket,” I said. “We’re going for a ride. You don’t understand women, do you?”

  “Apparently not,” he said cheerfully as he put his half sandwich back in the baggie and slid it into a side pocket of his jacket.

  We left the detectives’ bullpen, made our way out to the Charger, and headed over to Amberson Street.

  As we turned onto Walnut Street, Ryan said, “She’s going to visit Kathy?”

  “Of course she is,” I said.

  “Even though she just told us we ought to be looking at Kathy for strangling Austin?”

  “No, because she just told us that.”

  We pulled into the gravel parking area in front of the old grey house, thirty yards from the garage. A fire-engine red Suzuki shitcan was sitting in front of the studio.

  “Read the plate and run it, would you?” I said to Ryan. He has really good vision. He pulled his notebook from his jacket pocket, wrote down the plate number, and swiveled the computer toward him. He hit a couple of keys, then a couple more.

  “Well, how about that?” he said. “Eberlein, May.” He turned and gave me a big smile.

  “Want to come with me?” I shut down the cruiser.

  “Not sure,” he said, putting on a suspicious face. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Gonna look at a coup
le women going at it.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Was I kidding when I told you where May would be headed?” I got out of the cruiser and started walking toward the studio. I looked back and gave him a wave that said, Suit yourself. After a moment, I heard his car door close softly and his footsteps crunching the gravel as he caught up with me.

  He started heading toward the entrance door, with the Come In sign on top of it. He stopped when he saw I wasn’t walking with him. I shook my head and motioned for him to come with me.

  “You’re serious,” he said when he caught up with me. “You want to look in a window?”

  “If you walk in the door, they’re not gonna screw, now, are they? Sheesh.” I shook my head, making fun of his slow thinking. “And don’t crunch the gravel.” I led us around toward the east side, where I remembered there was a window.

  A scraggly Rose of Sharon sat right in front of the window. On the inside of the window was some steel shelving with paint cans and jars of brushes partially blocking the view. Which would help disguise us.

  I brushed the lower branches of the shrub out of the way so I could get in close to the window. I turned back to see what Ryan was up to. He looked conflicted. I know he didn’t want to look at the two women, but he also didn’t want to miss whatever it was they were doing. After all, it was part of the case.

  I waved my hand for him to stop being such a pussy and step up to the window. He shook his head but came up next to me.

  The window was smeared with dust, dried dirt, and bird shit, and there were all kinds of spider webs on the inside, but we could easily see Kathy, with her back to us, and May, facing her.

  Kathy was frumpy and potato-shaped in her painting clothes. She had her hands on her hips, her head cocked. She looked like a mom listening to her kid explain how the lamp got busted. May was talking with some energy, her hands pumping, palms out in a you-gotta-believe-me gesture.

  Then May stopped talking for a moment. Kathy shifted her weight, crossing her arms over her chest. Then they started talking again, first one, then the other. After a minute, their body language softened. Gradually they started to move closer to each other. May put out her hand and touched Kathy’s shoulder, seemed to rub it. Kathy looked down at the paint-splattered floor. May reached out her other arm and put it on Kathy’s shoulder. She drew the older woman in for a hug.

  “I guess I was wrong,” I said softly to Ryan. “Here comes the kiss-off. ‘I’ll always remember the good times the three of us had together. You, me, and the enormous black dildo.’”

  The two women were both crying now, wiping at their eyes. May was rubbing Kathy’s back. The hug ended as the women pulled back. They were still for the longest while, looking into each other’s eyes. Slowly their heads came together, and they kissed.

  “I’m not so sure,” Ryan said.

  The kiss continued. Kathy put her hands on May’s hips. Her hands slowly slid up May’s sides until she reached her breasts. Kathy began to caress May, who lifted her head and arched her back. Her eyes were closed, her mouth opened. She was beginning to breathe deeply.

  Kathy began undoing the buttons on May’s blouse. May stood still, her arms at her sides, as Kathy removed the blouse and then reached around behind her to unhook her bra. Kathy let May’s blouse and bra drop to the floor.

  Kathy unbuckled May’s black leather belt and unbuttoned her slacks. Slowly she slid them over May’s hips. May put her hands on Kathy’s shoulders and lifted one leg, then the other, so Kathy could remove the slacks and her leather boots. May was now nude. Kathy and May kissed again.

  “Okay, I’m out,” Ryan said, turning and walking toward the Charger. I turned back to the show. Kathy began caressing May’s breasts again. Now Kathy was kissing May’s neck. Kathy lowered her head and began to kiss May’s breasts. May now had her hands on Kathy’s shoulders. May’s head was back, her eyes closed. She opened her stance. Kathy was kissing May’s stomach and her flanks.

  I backed away from the window and started walking toward the car. Ryan rolled down his window as I leaned down.

  “What are they up to?” he said.

  “They’re fucking.”

  “Seems like kind of a complicated relationship.”

  I shrugged. “Kathy’s really into May’s body, and May seems to be fine with that. But a relationship? Can’t tell if there’s any more to it than that.”

  “What do you want to do now?”

  An eighteen-wheeler rumbled past us on Amberson. I waited for the noise to die down. “Let’s stay here, wait for May to come out and see us. I want her to know we’re looking at her and Kathy. Eventually May’s gonna have to decide which side she’s on. She’s gotta either give Kathy up or understand that we’re coming after her.”

  “You’re assuming they didn’t kill Austin together.”

  I shook my head. “I’m not assuming anything, Ryan.”

  “Then you want to interview Kathy again?”

  “Yeah, I think so. She’s infatuated with May—at least that. Whether she’d be willing to kill Austin over it I can’t quite tell yet. But we need to put a little more pressure on her, too. Sound good?”

  “Well,” Ryan said, “if I had a better idea, now’s when I’d offer it.” He gave me a sad smile.

  I nodded, then walked around to the front of the cruiser and hopped onto the hood. I checked my watch. It was just about noon, the sun directly overhead, throwing the tiniest shadow of me onto the black paint on the hood. I looked off toward the garage, where a couple of squirrels were chasing each other around the trunk of an old elm that shaded the roof.

  Seventeen minutes later May came walking out of the garage, looking into her big leather bag. She headed in the direction of her red Suzuki. Suddenly, she looked up, saw me, and stopped. We stared at each for a few seconds. She put her bag over her shoulder and started walking over to me. I didn’t move.

  “What are you doing here?” she said.

  “Came to interview Kathy Caravelli. Saw she was busy.”

  May shook her head. “There’s a bell on the door. We didn’t hear you.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “I didn’t come in the door.”

  “You’re a pervert, you know that?”

  “I’m a cop.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Just trying to figure out who killed Austin Sulenka.”

  She nodded. “Wasn’t me. Wasn’t Kathy.”

  “I’m not sure who it was,” I said.

  May Eberlein stood there, holding my gaze. “You’re never going to be able to prove it was me or Kathy.”

  “When people say things like that, usually means they’re done pretending they didn’t do it.”

  “In this case it means you can’t prove it because it didn’t happen. You’ve got Kathy’s DNA, but she’s admitted she was there with me and Austin. And I’ve already told you I was there, too. So you don’t even need my DNA.” She smiled. “If you had any evidence that either Kathy or I killed him, you’d have arrested one of us—or both of us. The fact that you haven’t done that?” She tilted her head. “You can’t prove it because there’s no evidence because it didn’t happen. So I suggest you get yourself some lesbian porn, lie back, rub your pussy hard, and leave me and Kathy alone.” She pointed her chin to Ryan, sitting in the passenger seat. “Let Clark Kent figure out who killed Austin. He seems less easily distracted than you.”

  She turned and started walking back to her car.

  I got in the driver’s seat of the Charger.

  “You two have a nice chat?”

  I nodded. “She said some hurtful things.”

  “Really?”

  “Suggested I’m a lesbian.”

  “I bet she attracts a lot of lesbians.”

  “She’s very attractive, but she has a nasty side.”

  “She give up anything?”

  “She did say we’d never prove it was her or Kathy, but then she was quick to point out that it was because neither of them did it.�
��

  “Okay, well, you wanted to put some pressure on her. Sounds like you did that.”

  I nodded. “Let’s go talk to Kathy again.”

  We walked over to the garage, in through the door, and down the jagged junk aisle. Kathy was fully dressed, sitting on a stool in the middle of the lighted rectangle beneath the skylight.

  She looked up and recognized me and Ryan. Her expression got cloudy, as if she was trying to figure out if we had just run into May and, if so, what we had said.

  “Hi, Kathy,” I said. “Got a minute?”

  She nodded. She didn’t get up from the stool or look around for something for me and Ryan to sit on.

  “We wanted to ask you about something May told us.”

  She motioned with her head toward the door. “You mean just now?”

  I shook my head. “We did chat a minute ago, but I mean earlier today. She said what happened the night Austin died is you left real angry. Austin called you a dyke, maybe some other names. You were crying, seeing as how May didn’t come to your defense or anything. You called them assholes, said they deserved each other.” I paused and looked at her, waiting for her to respond, but she didn’t say anything, and her expression was a blank. “Is that what happened?”

  “People say things,” Kathy said.

  “I’m aware of that. I asked you if that’s what happened.”

  “I don’t remember. Austin had a big mouth. He might’ve said some stuff. I might’ve said some stuff.”

  “So it wasn’t that big a deal?”

  “I’ve had people shooting at me. People calling me a dyke? Not that big a deal.”

  “Not such a big deal that you’d go back to his place later that night and strangle him?”

  Kathy shook her head, giving me a look like I was out of my mind. “Not even close.”

  “So it wasn’t that you realized May was willing to give you up—if she had to make a choice, I mean, between you and Austin?”

  “Look at me. I’m a busted-up old lesbian packing fifty extra pounds. No way a woman looks like May is gonna choose me over a guy like Austin. I was a novelty for her. I know that. That’s all I was. I got some good paintings out of it. And some good sex. It didn’t go anywhere. It’s over. May wasn’t the first straight chick I screwed. She won’t be the last.”