Matus kept his eyes on Shuster. He didn’t notice when I bent down to slip the gun from my ankle holster.
Stubbornly, Shuster put a hand out toward the phone.
Matus got off two quick rounds. The sound muffled by the silencer. I heard Shuster hit the floor with a dull thud.
I concentrated on Matus.
Turning toward me, he noticed my gun. Eyes wide, Matus squeezed the trigger.
Without thinking, I fired twice. Hit him square in the chest both times. He stumbled back with the force of the shot, an ugly grimace on his face. His body shuddered as he fell.
Everything was still.
Moving cautiously toward him, I kicked the gun out of his hand. I knelt over him and placed a finger to his neck. There was no pulse. His expression had relaxed into peacefulness. A scar across one cheek was the only flaw in an otherwise handsome face. He was a cruel, angry man who’d been used by others as nothing more than a tool. It was all in that face.
You never forget the faces and this one would be no different, no matter how savage he might’ve been. I’d taken a life and I would never be able to forget that.
It was then I felt the pain. Matus had nailed my arm with his last shot. Ignoring the wound, I moved to where Shuster and Kelley lay.
Shuster had been hit in the head and was gone, his blood spattered everywhere.
Kelley lay on the sofa, bleeding like a pig from a shoulder wound. Lucky bastard would make it. I wanted him to pull through just so he could stand trial for Brad’s murder. I’d make sure that happened.
My left arm blazed with pain now, blood seeped through my jacket, ran down over my hand and onto the white carpet. I staggered back to the sofa and sat down, placing the gun near my leg. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket but before I could open the thing, it began to ring.
It was Shim.
Chapter 32
I left the voting booth and maneuvered my way out of the polling place through knots of poll workers and candidate surrogates waving papers and flyers as voters entered. Some of them stared at me as if they thought they should know me. They’d probably seen my face on TV during coverage of Kelley’s arrest and the political melee that followed. He was ruined and several others teetered on the brink. I wasn’t happy about the attention I’d gotten but playing with politicians has its down side. On the other hand, one striking dark-haired guy working the polls gave me a look that made me want to rip off my sling and get back to normal quick. Instead I tossed him a wink, and he smiled.
The only thing I felt about my vote was that it seemed anticlimactic. The act itself was easy, even with my arm in a sling. Doesn’t take much effort to push little buttons and place your fate in some stranger’s hands. I’d never trusted politicians much, and Kelley made me certain I was right. My default position was the best position: Trust no one. That’s how I was raised and how I continued to operate.
It was anybody’s guess how many people would still vote for Kelley even after being arrested and forced to drop out of the race. Dead men had won elections in Philly, so Kelley would probably get some votes.
Terrabito should be happy since I’d given him the gift of running unopposed. I was actually glad after I’d been told that both he and Wheeler had been working with the FBI to build a stronger case against Branko. Turns out Wheeler was close to being the saint people thought he was.
Before I knew it I was back home. I paused before going in, enjoying the breeze, the sunshine, and the feeling that I’d put a particularly bad case behind me. Losing a friend had been rough and everything I’d found out about him had made things worse.
Somehow, closing the case didn’t seem like enough and left me feeling I had more to do before I’d be satisfied. There were loose ends I hadn’t tied up. Yet.
Lost in thought, I swept through the automatic doors and walked into the lobby.
“Hey, Mr. Fontana,” Carlos called out from behind the front desk. He was always more formal with other people around. “Got another package for you.” Disappearing around a corner, he reappeared almost immediately with a large box wrapped in shiny green foil. There was a card attached.
“Thanks, Carlos. You see who left this for me?”
“Messenger service,” he said. “Saw you on TV again. Guess you got cases comin’ out of your as… ears, huh?”
“More than I can handle, Carlos. Wanna be a detective?”
“No way, man. Look at you, arm in a sling. Not me.” He smiled. “Anyway, you got it all covered, right?”
I smiled as I moved toward the elevator. I wanted to pull the foil paper off the package but thought I should wait until I was home. Never knew what might be inside. Maybe another snake. A live one this time.
In the elevator, I did tear open the card. It read: “You kept your word, Marco. I guess I owe you at least a drink. Until then, this’ll have to do. Giuliani still says I should be careful around you. But I don’t have to take her advice all the time.” It was signed “Shim.”
I rattled the box. A soft sound and the feeling of something sloshing back and forth inside. As soon as the elevator reached my floor, I walked quickly to my door and entered my apartment.
Once inside I ripped off the foil and opened the box. A dark blue Philly PD tee-shirt lay folded next to a Police Department baseball cap. There was nothing that could be misinterpreted as romantic in Shim’s gift. Except the fact of the gift itself. Not a very macho cop-like gesture, if you ask me. I smiled and pulled the tee-shirt out of the box. It was soft and just the right size, which told me Shim had been more than a little observant. I put it all aside and went to the kitchen.
Pulling a bottle of water out of the fridge, I placed my cell phone on the kitchen counter, and walked out onto the balcony. I shut the door behind effectively cutting off the telephones. My arm throbbed when I bumped it against the door. The pain medication usually did its job, but once in a while, my arm reminded me the gunshot wound was worse than I’d thought when it happened. It’d be good as new eventually.
I plunked the plastic bottle down on the weathered teak table I kept forgetting to oil. That’d come back to bite me when it fell apart. I figured another few days wouldn’t matter.
Looking out over the city helped. It was soothing, even healing. No matter what happened there was a certain peace in that sleepy landscape, and I allowed it to soak into my spirit. The river sparkled as it drifted along, while trees were greening up all around. Puffy clouds eased across the brilliant blue sky. Things were placid, lazy, composed, as if nothing could even make a ripple across the calm surface of the city.
I knew better, and the pain in my arm told me I knew better. Evil things had happened, lives had been lost, careers destroyed. People were affected forever. The peaceful cityscape had changed in subtle ways that couldn’t be fully understood from a distance.
People, good people, were missing from the streets below. Brad, Wheeler, and Vega were dead. Even Shuster, the poor dupe, was gone. All for what? They’d pursued dreams in ways that eventually put them in jeopardy. You can’t put your dreams on hold, I guess, but you can’t let them kill you, either. At least Brad, Wheeler, and Vega had died following their own path. Shuster had been a tool of politicians. Maybe he had dreams of his own but he was trapped doing the bidding of others and smothering his own desires. I actually felt sorry for him. But he’d snared Brad in a lethal scheme and had used Brad’s own dreams against him. I couldn’t forget that.
I couldn’t forget a lot of things. Ty was still missing. Neither the police nor any of my contacts could locate him. Wherever he’d tucked himself away, he didn’t want to be found. I hoped he hadn’t gone back to Eddie and maybe gotten himself killed. I wouldn’t forget about finding Ty. Anton wouldn’t let me forget. One way or another, we’d find him.
I added that to the several mysteries I hadn’t been able to solve yet. Like Max Gibson, another ghost in the wind. He’d made Brad’s life miserable for a while and was doing it again to someone else. I couldn�
�t let that pass unnoticed.
There were changes shaping things for me, too, and I couldn’t help thinking about the possibilities. I wondered where Anton was at that moment, and if I could put things right between us eventually. Luke was out there, too. His skyscraping condo building close to the river’s edge, shimmered in the Spring sun, reminding me that Xinhan was a person who might make our world a little different.
Detective Shim had made me realize how lucky I was in a lot of ways. At least I knew who I was, or thought I did. Shim was on the verge of making sense of the feelings he had. I could see that every time I looked into his eyes. He’d figure it out soon, I was sure. When he did, he’d have the potential to change the equation for me, too. I might like that.
Cases like Brad’s always made me look back at the past, which inevitably had me thinking about Galen. My old friend. He was out there somewhere, and I needed to find him. Something was missing in my life, and I had this notion Galen knew what it was and could tell me how to find it. He knew me better than I knew myself. I couldn’t even find him. Not yet. I wasn’t about to stop looking, though.
In the meantime, I listened to my own thoughts and lived with the new ghosts that came with every case, joining the crowd of others I’d gathered. I tried blanking my mind but it was impossible. Faces floated up in my memory, voices whispered in my ear, and there was no avoiding them.
I itched to get back to work and tackle the pile of messages Olga must have placed on my desk. I needed a new case. I’d had enough of recuperation, it was time to move forward again. I gulped down the water, slid open the door, and went to the kitchen for my cell phone. There were people waiting.
About the Author
Joseph R.G. DeMarco lives and writes in Philadelphia and Montréal. Several of his stories have been anthologized in the Quickies series published by Arsenal Pulp Press, in Men Seeking Men (Painted Leaf Press) and in Charmed Lives (Lethe Press). His essays have been published in anthologies including Gay Life, Hey Paisan!, We Are Everywhere, BlackMen WhiteMen, Men’s Lives, Paws and Reflect, The International Encyclopedia of Marriage and Famiyl, the Encyclopedia of Men and Masculinites, and The Gay and Lesbian Review Worldwide among others.
He has also written extensively for the gay/lesbian press and was a correspondent for The Advocate, In Touch, Gaysweek. His work has been featured in The New York Native, the Philadelphia Gay News (PGN), Gay Community News, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Chroma, and a number of other publications.
In 1983, his PGN article “Gay Racism” was awarded the prize for excellence in feature writing by the Gay Press Association and was anthologized in We Are Everywhere, Black Men, White Men, and Men’s Lives.
He was Editor-in-Chief of The Weekly Gayzette; Editor-in-Chief of New Gay Life, and has been an editor or contributing editor for a number of publications including Il Don Gennaro, and Gaysweek. Currently his is the Editor-in-Chief of Mysterical-E (www.mystericale.com) an online mystery magazine.
One of his greatest loves is mystery (all kinds) but he also has an abiding interest in alternate history, speculative fiction, young adult fiction, vampires, werewolves, science fiction, the supernatural, mythology, and more.
You can learn more at www.josephdemarco.com and at www.abodyonpine.com
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