Body on Pine

by DeMarco, Joseph R. G.

  “Who are these jokers? I don’t recognize any of them.” I nudged Stan who shrugged.

  One suit after another entered gazing around tentatively. All of them dressed in clothes that cost more than I made in six months. The older ones looked like lost sugar daddies, the younger ones seemed ready to bolt. They wore their suits like armor, ready to fend off unwanted passes.

  “I don’t know their names, Marco. Hell, I don’t even know their faces. I was countin’ on you…”

  “Must be the advance team paving the way. Or staffers.”

  “You’ll have to get their names, introduce them around. Where’s Nancy? I don’t see Nancy.” Stan shot glances all around then gave me a gentle shove in the direction of the nearest suit, a dark-haired number, wide-eyed and nervous.

  I stuck out my hand. “Marco Fontana,” I said and smiled. His spicy cologne floated over the odor of stale beer but wasn’t overpowering.

  “Josh Nolan.” He shook my hand. His palm was sweaty but his grip was firm.

  “You’re running for…”

  “Running? No… funny. No. I’m Senator Terrabito’s chief of staff. Got here ahead of him I guess. You haven’t seen him, have you? I didn’t get to the other bars. I thought he’d be here.” The words tumbled out with an edgy quality.

  “Never been in a gay bar before?” I asked as soothingly as I could. “How about a drink? That’ll help.” I signaled the bartender.

  “Th-thanks. And no, I haven’t ever been in a gay bar before.” Despite the slight edginess, his voice was like thick honey.

  “It’s the same as any other bar except it’s different. If you know what I mean.”

  The bartender slapped down a napkin. “What’ll it be?”

  “How about a Long Island Iced Tea?” I winked at the bartender.

  “That should do it.” Nolan seemed grateful for the suggestion.

  “It’ll settle your nerves.” It’d more likely knock him for a loop. “On the house.”

  The bartender gave me a knowing smile. I knew from experience just how the powerful drink could sneak up on you after a while. I was betting Nolan knew it, too. Maybe he wanted to loosen up for some reason. If he could stand after a couple of Long Island Iced Teas, he might even have a good time.

  “Comin’ right up.” The bartender turned and got busy.

  “Been a long day,” Nolan said. His eyes betrayed his attempt at seeming calm and nonchalant.

  The bartender placed the drink on the bar and Nolan slipped him a five. Which raised him a few points in my book.

  “When’s the Senator getting here?” I asked, trying to relax him.

  “Truthfully,” Nolan glanced at his watch, then snatched his drink from the bar and took a long gulp. “I thought he’d be here by now. He said he had some business to clear up and would meet me here.”

  “He’s not the only one who hasn’t shown,” said a stubby man who’d sidled up to us. His suit was as expensive as the others but looked like a cheap tablecloth marred by wrinkles and stains.

  “Marco Fontana,” I said sticking out my hand again. “You are…”

  “Stu Henderson, on the Governor’s staff.” He turned to Nolan. “How you doin’ Nolan? You’re lookin’ a little green around the gills.” He laughed, a sandpapery sound, and it seemed he’d already had more than the legal limit. “Don’t worry, kid. Anybody makes a pass at you, tell ‘em I’m your boyfriend.” He laughed louder this time.

  Nolan said nothing, gulped more of his drink.

  “You were saying, Stu… about Terrabito not being the only one?” I asked.

  “Yeah, ‘ats right. Uh, what was your name again?”

  “Fontana.”

  “Yeah, Fontana. I don’t see Nussbaum or Kelley or some’a the local boys?” Henderson got the bartender’s attention. “Scotch, neat.”

  “We all agreed to be here by 10:30,” Nolan said. He swiped a hand through his thick dark hair and finished his drink.

  I wanted to be around later when that drink knocked him on his cute ass.

  “Senator Terrabito will be here. He never breaks a commitment. The man is a machine,” Nolan added.

  “None of ‘em break commitments. Never.” Henderson laughed, a loud and uncontrolled sound. His wide-open Irish face was too blotchy-red and more than a little lined. “Unless they gotta break a commitment, that is. Right?” He elbowed the more elegant Nolan who edged away. When Henderson’s Scotch was delivered he gulped the whole thing and motioned for another.

  “The Senator never breaks commitments,” Nolan said, obviously trying to maintain his cool.

  “The Governor gonna be here tonight?” I asked not so subtly changing the subject.

  Henderson’s red face exploded into a smile. “Nah. I’m just here keepin’ tabs. He likes to know what’s goin’ on.”

  Nolan rolled his eyes and motioned to the bartender for another Long Island Iced Tea. Boy, did I want to be around later.

  As Henderson nursed his drink, a medium height, barrel-chested woman stared then approached me. Dressed in a peach-colored pants suit with a hunter-green silk scarf at her neck, she walked with authority and purpose.

  “Nancy Gonzalez.” Flashing a prefab smile, she reached out her hand. “StonewallVotes. We put this event together.”

  “Nice to meet you, Nancy. Where are the big names hiding?” I asked and watched her smile fade. “If your politicians get here any later, they’ll end up in our Amateur Strip Contest.”

  “Amateur? There’s a…?” Nancy looked confused. “Nobody said there’d—”

  “Ha!” Henderson let out a honking laugh. “Good one, Fontana. Can you imagine some’a these political types in g-strings?” He inhaled his second scotch and snorted.

  “We’ve got a contest every Friday, Ms. Gonzalez. It won’t cause a problem and it can start late if necessary,” I said.

  “Well, I hope so.” The phony smile didn’t return, instead her lips stretched into a thin tense line.

  At that moment Nussbaum, big-boned, and slovenly, loped through the doors followed by Clarke and Murphy both dressed to the nines.

  “Where’s Kelley and Terrabito?” I asked Nancy.

  “Don’t ask. They’ve been trouble all night. They refuse to appear together anywhere.”

  “I’ve heard about the rivalry. Intense.” I may not like political events but I pay attention to politics.

  “They’re more like enemies. The party is backing Kelley. Terrabito is furious. He’s been a state senator for twelve years. Thinks the party owes him.”

  Sounded to me as if StonewallVotes had taken sides, which wasn’t so unusual.

  “Whereas Kelley just thinks he owns the party because of his name, right?” I said. Kelley was the scion of a family of politicians spread across the state. His father was a one-term failure of a governor. One uncle had been Pennsylvania’s only Democratic senator in the fifties and another had been Pennsylvania Attorney General. Kelley, himself, was an undistinguished state representative from a district spanning Philly’s northern suburbs. He was rich though, and getting richer, from the businesses his family controlled. He had no trouble raising money while Terrabito struggled for every cent.

  “Kelley’s family has done a lot for the state and he’s pro-gay down the line.”

  “Oh?” I needled her. “Did he change his position on gay marriage and I missed the announcement?”

  Nancy tossed a dark look my way. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.” She pulled me along to greet the politicians and introduced me to each one.

  As we moved, I glanced back at Nolan to make sure he was still standing after all the liquor he’d downed and noticed one of our regulars sidle up next to him and conspicuously press an arm against the hunky Nolan. To his credit, Nolan smiled and nodded. Perhaps the Long Island Iced Tea was working its magic.

  Nancy gathered her brood of candidates onstage where she introduced them to the patrons. Visibly tired, she finished her mercifully short speech wi
th, “The candidates would love to discuss your concerns.” Then she plugged StonewallVotes and exhorted people to get out and vote.

  It took a while for the politicians to wend their way around the bar, chatting, shaking hands, and pretending they enjoyed themselves. I couldn’t help but notice their nervous glances and the way they winced whenever anyone took their picture.

  Around 11:15, State Senator Bob Terrabito rushed into the bar looking disheveled and out of breath. Josh Nolan, floating on the liquor he’d consumed, brought Terrabito to meet me. Middle-aged, balding, and swarthy, Terrabito—known as Senator Smiles because of the permanent smile on his moon-round face—gave a wan version of his signature grin and gazed around the bar. Like the others, he wore an expensive silk suit, accented with the almost-required blue tie. It should have looked good but it was a bit mussed and smudged. For a State Senator, he wasn’t very imposing.

  “Mr. Fontana. I’d like you to meet Senator Terrabito.” Nolan’s velvet voice was getting slurry.

  The state Senator dutifully thrust out his hand and smiled.

  “Great to meet you, Senator.”

  “Yes… uh… who can tell me what’s going on here?” he asked a little shakily. There was an arrogance beneath the ruffled exterior. Terrabito turned to Nolan. “Can I get a drink or do you think that would look…”

  “It would look like you’re a human being,” I said and waved over a waiter. Terrabito ordered gin. “Looks like you’ve had a rough night, Senator.”

  “Wha…? Nothing of the sort. Not at all. I’ve been up since three this morning. I’m still on the go. Politics isn’t for siss…” he started, then caught himself. “Politics is tiring work and I’ve had a tough day. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  Before I could speak, Casey Kelley, Terrabito’s rival, stumbled through the door.

  “What’s he doing here? I should never have agreed to this nonsense.” Terrabito glared at Kelley, then pinned Nolan with a stare. “I thought I told you not to let this—”

  “But… you arrived…I—” Nolan stuttered.

  “You bungled it, Nolan.”

  “Let’s walk over there, Senator.” Nolan steered Terrabito away from his rival.

  I watched Kelley move around the bar peering at customers. He was younger than I’d thought he’d be, but disheveled and harried. The Senate wannabe gave the general impression of being gray, not because he was old and gray, which he wasn’t, more like the gray of dull and boring. He stared tensely as if he had no idea where he was and expected someone to guide him through whatever it was he was supposed to do. When he spotted Nancy, a look of relief relaxed his features.

  Nancy flew to his side and beckoned me over.

  “This is State Representative Kelley,” she said, all smiles and obsequiousness. “Mr. Fontana.”

  We shook hands and Kelley smiled weakly, looking distracted as if he’d lost something.

  “Anything we can do for you, Mr. Kelley?” I asked. “A drink maybe? Need to freshen up?” He certainly appeared to need freshening up, as tousled as he looked.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” Kelley seemed annoyed. “Has anybody seen Shuster?”

  “Your campaign manager?” Nancy asked. “He was with us earlier, I think. Yes. I remember seeing him at The Westbury.”

  “He should have been here by now. He lost track of me, of course. He assured me he’d call when Terrabito left here.” His face took on color as his anger ramped up. “Terrabito’s still here. Why didn’t anyone let me know? Shuster had instructions. He should have called.”

  Nancy smiled, undoubtedly embarrassed. “Sticking to the schedule has been a challenge. Senator Terrabito arrived a moment before you,” she said. “If Mr. Shuster were here, I’m sure he’d have called you.”

  “A competent campaign manager would be on top of things. If my father could see the sorry state of things and what a failure Shuster’s been, he’d collapse.”

  “He’ll be here,” Nancy said, her voice soothing, her manner gentle.

  “He’d better be,” Kelley snapped.

  “How about that drink?” I slapped him on the back. He was only a State Rep after all, you could slap them on the back. He looked up at me with his version of a withering stare. I found it comical coming from such a gray, ineffectual man.

  I eventually left him in the company of the loud-mouthed businessman who’d talked to me earlier, whose name I still couldn’t remember. They chatted cozily, though Kelley never lost the frosty expression planted on his face.

  As I turned to get a drink for myself, someone banged through the front doors noisily and in a hurry. I recognized tubby Denny Shuster. Eyes wide, he lighted on Kelley immediately. Funny how these guys sense their masters. He moved swiftly to the representative’s side and I edged closer to hear what they’d say. Hey, listening in is second nature to me. Never know when you hear the juicy.

  “Where were you?” Kelley hissed.

  “I-I must’ve lost track… I thought you were…”

  “You thought…” Kelley noticed people subtly turning in his direction. “Let’s hash this out elsewhere.” He placed a hand on Shuster’s back and turned him toward the doors. Outside, I saw Kelley’s arms waving and Shuster looking like a whipped dog.

  Eventually they returned, and I noticed Shuster gaze around the place until he spotted someone. I looked in that direction and realized Shuster was staring at Nolan across the room. Josh Nolan turned, looked at Shuster, then, as if embarrassed or afraid, quickly turned away. I wondered how that little affair would ultimately play itself out.

  The rest of the night went off without further problems. Stan was happy with all the candidates and the crowd of drinking patrons. After the last of the politicians filed out the door, Nancy gripped my hand as she thanked me. I suddenly felt the weight of the long day dragging me down. I also felt relieved that I’d finally get to go home and sleep.

  “I’ve gotta get outta here, Stan. Tell Anton I’ll call him tomorrow.”

  Turning, I collided with Jean-Claude who looked at me questioningly.

  “Jean-Claude, what’s up? Need some help?” Not that I could contemplate anything other than taking a long hot shower and slipping into bed.

  “Uh, no… not… for the contest. I need to… to ask…,” he fumbled. Jean-Claude Favreau usually a no-nonsense guy, couldn’t get his question out. “A while back you said we could… have the talk… yes? About work? This is still possible, no?”

  “Sure, Jean-Claude. Right now I’ve got a date with my bed.”

  “It will not take long. I promise.” Undeterred, he stared at me, his light-brown eyes bright, expectant. Jean-Claude had performed as a stripper in Montréal where guys knew just how to work a crowd for the money they made in the strip clubs. He’d learned to be persistent without being pushy, which isn’t easy.

  “We’ll talk tomorrow. No interruptions. Whaddaya say?”

  “You’re sure you cannot talk now?” Jean-Claude battered my resolve with the saddest hungry-puppy stare.

  “What’s this about, Jean-Claude?” I tried keeping the annoyance from my voice.

  “About working… for you. At your…”

  “You already work for me.”

  “I mean in your P.I. firm. Like I have mentioned before. You remember this?”

  Jean-Claude had moved from Québec to study criminal justice at Temple. He wanted a career as an investigator and was dying to work with me as an intern. I was hoping to avoid complications.

  “I haven’t had time to think about it.”

  “But—”

  “Tell you what. First thing tomorrow night, we’ll discuss it. Deal?”

  “Oui. Deal. I’ll be here, Mr. Fontana. This is for real, no? You are not just playing the games?”

  “On the level, Jean-Claude.” I smiled. “None of this ‘Mr. Fontana’ stuff.”

  Jean-Claude nodded, and I was out the door before anyone else could stop me.

  I walked slowly back to my buildi
ng. I was too tired to enjoy the breeze kicking the air around and the pleasant drop in temperature that came with it. Tired as I was, though, I felt like I was floating and that everything was possible.

  Grace was on the front desk in the lobby as I trudged through. I nodded a good night to her and headed for the elevators.

  When I got to my apartment, I skipped the shower and headed straight for bed. The silence was bliss after hours of pounding music. I undressed in the dark, closed the vertical blinds, and fell into bed.

  Chapter 2

  The morning sun filtering into my bedroom roused me from a deep sleep. I stretched out enjoying the feel of the cotton sheets against my skin. Rolling away from the light, I tried falling back to sleep, then I remembered the massage I’d scheduled. I smiled, yawned myself awake, stretched again for good measure, and glanced at the clock. Enough time for breakfast and a long, hot shower.

  Anticipating Brad’s massage propelled me into the day. He’d worked magic before, when I’d injured my back on a case. He’d iron out all the knots Stinky Stankowitz had caused and flush the rat out of my system for good.

  My usual oatmeal was more than enough breakfast. I read the newspaper and lingered over coffee, while keeping thoughts of work at a distance. That was step one according to Brad. He insisted clients free themselves of thoughts, worries, and desires. Step two was a long, hot shower to relax my muscles for the pummeling they’d get.

  By the time I finished I was floating. I slid into a pair of jeans and my favorite Phillies t-shirt, threw on a light jacket and walked out the door as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Which I didn’t. With Stinky out of the way, I’d decided to wait until Monday before even thinking about work.

  I hit the pavement with enough time for a slow stroll down Pine Street to Eleventh Street where Brad located his mini-spa. May was gently breezy and elegant, like Spring should be. I took a deep breath and ambled toward Broad. As I neared the Doubletree Hotel, I noticed Bob Terrabito, barrel-chested, neatly attired, his salt and pepper hair well-coiffed unlike the night before when he’d run into Bubbles so late. His signature smile on his face, he shook hands with voters and was the picture of a politician. Reputed to be tough, fair, and honest, if any politician could be said to be honest, he campaigned as if he was ahead in the polls and not hanging on by his fingernails and desperately trying to solidify his base.