The Orchid Murders

by The Orchid Murders [eXtasy MM] (lit)

  I know what you did last night.

  “What the fuck?” Anderson muttered. He stared into the package again to see there was something else there. He yanked something else from the envelope and almost had a heart attack-it was a picture of him and Sam, from the night before, while making love.

  He rushed to the front door now. “Sam!”

  When no reply came to his shouts, Anderson took the stairs two at a time and barged into the room that Sam was supposed to be sleeping in. The bed was empty and had no signs of being slept in. That took the wind out of Anderson’s sails and for a brief moment he had to lean against the doorframe to catch his breath.

  It was just a booty call, Andy boy. Get over it.

  He inhaled deeply, pushed back from the frame and walked into his bedroom. He did up his shirt, hauled on a pair of socks then grabbed the envelope. He had prided himself in being the man to stay away from so-called booty calls—to have only meaningful relationships, but with Sam, it was just a fluke. It had to be. There was no way he could be smitten by a man who would promise protection and then sneak out in the middle of the night. It seemed that he just kept getting involved with the wrong kind of man as he got older and he wondered why that was. As he slid into the front seat of his car, his mind wandered back to the way he had felt when Sam touched him. It may be corny in his head but he couldn’t deny the explosion that had surged through him.

  “You have to stop this Andy,” he whispered. His ringing cell phone pulled him from his regrets and he blindly reached forward and pushed the key. “Yeah?”

  “Good morning to you too,” Byung’s voice floated through the speakers to fill the car. “How was last night?”

  “Different,” Anderson admitted.

  “Ahh—what happened?”

  “You free for breakfast? I have to stop at the station to give Sam something but after that I’m free until my two o’clock lecture.”

  Byung chuckled, “Yeah. Meet me at Caesar’s after you meet with your newest boyfriend.”

  “Don’t call him that,” Anderson snapped a little too harshly. “Never call him that.”

  “Damn Andy, what’s going on?”

  Anderson sighed, made a left turn into downtown before speaking again, “I’m sorry, ok? I just…I’ll explain when I meet you for breakfast. Gimme a little while.”

  “Andy…”

  Anderson hung up the phone just as he came to the tunnel and the traffic jam from hell.

  * * * *

  “You here to see Morgan?” a voice asked. Anderson looked up from the envelope he was fingering and nodded his head. “Follow me.”

  As he walked down the corridor past desks of other cops, with pictures of families they are slowly losing to long hours at work, telephones ringing and someone yelling that they “didn’t mean to kill her” Anderson thought of what he was going to say to Sam. What do you say to someone after you made love to them only a few hours before? This was new to him—a one night stand. He took a deep breath when the officer stopped and opened a door. He stepped aside to allow Anderson into the room. He stepped in and looked at Sam who was hunched over a desk that was cluttered with papers, photos and coffee cups. Anderson said nothing. Seeing Sam again sent his body into a tizzy and left him speechless. He forced himself to speak after licking his suddenly dried lips. Anderson stepped forward and Sam looked up from his work. The look in his eyes wasn’t something that Anderson was prepared for. He wasn’t prepared for the unfamiliar coldness that dwelled in the cop’s eyes. That told Anderson to keep his mouth shut for Sam had already forgotten everything.

  “What are you doing here, Anderson?” Sam asked. The sound of his voice reinforced what Anderson saw in his eyes.

  “You left in the middle of the night—you snuck out.”

  Sam glanced over at the two way mirror almost nervously, “Andy…”

  Anderson held up a hand to stop his speech. He laughed softly and shook his head. He knew exactly why Sam looked so nervous as though he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He did not want to hear an apology or a lie, “No. It’s ok,” he cleared his throat, lifted his neck proudly and handed over the envelope. “This was in my mailbox this morning. I figured it’ll fuck with your reputation more than mine—and we wouldn’t want that.”

  He didn’t mean to sound bitter. He was letting go. Anderson smiled and turned on his heels out the door.

  “Anderson!” Sam called but Anderson wouldn’t have it. The memory of one of his exes flashed though his mind. Anderson had been madly in love with Jackson. The man was sexy as sin and twice as wealthy. But Anderson didn’t need the money; what he needed from Jackson was his heart. Jackson hadn’t been prepared for that. In fact, Jackson hadn’t even told his family that he was gay. Anderson was his dirty little secret—the one that would drive Daddy crazy. The morning Anderson had to hide in Jackson’s closet when his father surprisingly showed up was the last straw. Their argument for that was one to break all records. It was knocked down, dragged out, Anderson slamming a fist to Jackson’s ribs—it was bad. He hadn’t meant to do it but Jackson turned out to be a prick and Anderson was angry at himself for getting caught up in such drama.

  Jackson had happened and Anderson would use that train wreck to help him through this one. It was for the best, if he cut the strings immediately with Sam before things got even worse. Allowing himself to believe that, a genuine smile spread across Anderson’s face.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Sam wondered out loud. He took the envelope handed to him by Anderson and looking around first to see if anyone was watching, he opened the envelope. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

  Just as Anderson had found, there was a note and a photo of them on the bed with Sam riding Anderson’s ass. The angle of the photo was from the ceiling corner of Andy’s bedroom. After thinking about it just for a moment, Sam realized that the burglars, who had ransacked Anderson’s place had left behind recording equipment. What the hell was going on? Who would want to photograph or record what Anderson did in his bedroom, and was it connected in any way with the homicides?

  Sam reached for his cell phone and dialed Anderson’s number. He needed some answers and fast as well as getting into Anderson’s place and pulling the equipment out. The cell phone rang and then went to voice mail.

  “Damn it, this isn’t the time to be hurt or whatever the hell you’re feeling. This thing needs immediate action. Answer the phone damnit!” Sam said out loud. The next time the phone went to voice mail, he left another message.

  “Anderson, we need to get into your bedroom and pull the recording equipment that’s up in the ceiling as well as check the rest of the house for other equipment. Call me so we can get over there!”

  “Is Anderson gonna be more trouble that he’s worth?” Sam wondered.

  * * * *

  Getting to Caesar’s didn’t take too long for it was only a couple of blocks from the precinct. It was a popular, posh gay restaurant where anyone who’s anyone ate. Yes it was mainly for gay couples but they had amazing food—especially cheesecake, something a lot of people in New York were addicted to. But Anderson didn’t feel like eating more calories than he could burn that day and he didn’t want to start eating junk when he felt as bad as he did.

  Anderson walked into Caesar’s and stopped at the host’s podium, “Good morning, Mr. Williams! Your guest is waiting. This way please.”

  He followed the man with the cute ass over to where Byung was seated with a large cup of coffee in his hands. He shook his head because he should have known that where there was coffee, B was a happy man. Anderson reached across to hug his friend before slipping into his seat and placing his keys against the table. He ordered coffee as well and placed his hands on the table.

  “Start at the beginning,” Byung muttered. Anderson took a deep breath. He licked his lips while wondering where the beginning of it all was. There was so much that was going through him that he had switched his cell off becau
se he didn’t want to hear it ring.

  “Easy for you to say,” he smiled and said thanks at the cute host who brought his coffee. The man left them again and Anderson sipped from his cup. “After my house got tossed yesterday I called Sam.”

  “Sam?”

  “Detective Morgan.”

  “So you two are on a first name basis now?”

  Anderson growled in his throat but continued, “He came over and brought an overnight bag because the truth was I didn’t want to stay in that house alone. One thing led to another and we had sex.”

  “I knew it!” Byung grinned.

  “Yeah. In the middle of the night or early this morning, he snuck out and left. That pissed me off but then I checked the mail this morning and found this envelope. Someone took pictures of us having sex and left me copies. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t give a fuck, because all the people that matter to me know I’m gay. But he’s a cop and I don’t know who knows about him. So, I brought them over to him and the coldness in his eyes…”

  “Holy shit!” Byung gasped out. “Someone was in your house?”

  “I don’t know,” Anderson shook his head. “Then again a tornado could have gone through the house last night and I wouldn’t have given a damn.”

  “So why are you so mad?”

  “I’m not mad—well not really. I just expected him to not look at me as though he didn’t know who I was. Especially…”

  “After you two fucked…”

  Anderson nodded before taking a deep breath. He pushed back against the seat with his mind flowing, “I know it’s too early to talk about love. I don’t even love him but damn.”

  Byung grinned. “Don’t worry about it. I believe it’s called a booty call. He’s a cop. He probably hadn’t gotten laid in a long time. Don’t take it personally. His cock spoke for his brain and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  He nodded for as per usual; Byung was right. “Yeah. Oh well, what can you really do right?”

  “Right. At least you had a good come and…”

  “Would you gentlemen like to order?” a female voice interrupted Byung’s words and they both spun to face her.

  “I’ll have the omelet delight,” Byung informed her.

  “I’ll have what he’s having,” Anderson piped up. After she was gone, they faced each other again.

  “You did have a good one, didn’t you?” Byung pushed.

  “No,” Anderson brought his cup to his lips.

  “What do you mean no?”

  “You heard me. I didn’t have an orgasm.”

  “Well,” Byung tossed his hands up as though in surrender. “Then that changes everything.” Anderson laughed at the incredulous look on his friend’s face. Byung was often times a drama king and those were the times that Anderson really wondered if Byung was actually straight. “No it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter. Now we move on.”

  “No! You can’t—you have to go back. Make him make you come!” Byung blurted out in Cantonese.

  “You’re trouble and you’re cruising to get me shot,” Anderson laughed. While they continued their conversation, Anderson reached into his pocket and turned his cell phone on out of habit. No sooner as it was on than it began beeping. When he slid it open, he saw two numbers; one number he didn’t recognize but the second he knew. “Gimme a second,” he told Byung and removed himself from the restaurant to check the messages. One message was from one of the teacher’s assistants and the second was from Sam.

  The message from his assistant left Anderson dreading the amount of papers on Homer that he had to grade but the voice mail from Sam left a bad taste in his mouth. He called back and waited for Sam to answer.

  “Morgan,” the gruff voice replied.

  “Hurt? Over you?” was the first thing Anderson said into the receiver. “Don’t hold your breath. I’m having breakfast with someone and didn’t want to be disturbed. As for the equipment you’re going to have to wait until my breakfast is over. I’ll call you once we’re finished.”

  He hung up the phone and lifted his chin proudly. “You have done well my friend,” he could hear Byung’s voice joking. That was what the Chinese man would say when Anderson did something amazing or out of his comfort zone.

  Anderson dumped the phone into his pocket feeling very proud of himself. His voice had been strong, not a waiver to be heard. He felt a strange sense of vindication when he lowered himself into the seat across from Byung.

  “Ok, why are you grinning?” Byung wanted to know.

  “Sam Morgan is so yesterday,” Anderson laughed and placed his napkin in his lap.

  * * * *

  “Oh? And just why am I so yesterday?” asked Sam Morgan who had come into the same restaurant for coffee and some toast.

  “What are you doing here?” It was Anderson’s turn to ask the question this time.

  “I was around the corner when you called back and was on my way here for coffee. Low and behold, who do I find? None other than the man who just told me he was at breakfast. Mind if I join you?” Sam asked as he slid into the booth and pushed Anderson around the table.

  “I take it this is your friend whose name I can’t pronounce? You know, the straight one?” Sam asked with a smile.

  * * * *

  Anderson looked over to Byung, who was still chewing.

  “Lay ho ma?” Byung questioned.

  “Dau zue,” Anderson nodded. “This is Detective Morgan. Detective, this is Mr. Fung and yes we’re on a date.” He wondered if they had forgotten to take this one to charm school—a real prince charming, this one.

  “Hello,” Byung said politely enough before glancing at Anderson again. Anderson smiled.

  “I’m fine,” he nodded to Byung. The Chinese man nodded as though reading Anderson’s mind and tapped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He got up, pressed a kiss to Anderson’s cheek.

  “Call me later, Andy.”

  “Sure.”

  “Detective,” Byung spoke eloquently. Anderson smiled proudly at his friend and watched Byung walk from the restaurant before turning to Sam.

  “What do you want?”

  “Well, let me give you a hint: You showed up at my office and dropped a bomb in my lap and then casually turned around and walked out. What the hell do you think I want, and why are you so pissed at me?” Sam looked around to make sure no one else was listening into their conversation.

  “Mad at you?” Anderson smiled while he lifted a piece of omelet into his mouth. He chewed, “If I were mad at you I wouldn’t have dropped said bomb into your lap. I’d let you find out some other way. I haven’t had time to be mad at you because as you can see, after leaving the station I’ve been here. So, why don’t we make this easy? You tell me exactly what you want and I’ll see if I can accommodate you then you can go back to pretending none of this ever happened. Sound good to you?”

  “Okay, that does it! What crawled up your ass and is chewing away at your insides? Why the attitude? You would think last night never happened! To answer your question first, we need to check out your place and pull the equipment. It does not make sense for one thing, and two, I’m sure you don’t want that look of pure pleasure on your face as I’m fucking you to get all over the place, right?”

  Anderson sat back cockily, “I don’t know. It might be just the thing I need to shed my good boy image,” he smirked happily. “You know, I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket? Pathetic don’t you think?” He arched a brow while pushing his plate from him and leaning forward as though he had some great wisdom to impart to Morgan, “Wanna help me shed my good boy image, Detective?”

  “What did you have in mind? You want me to sweep my hand across this table, clearing it, throw you up on it, rip your clothes off and fuck you again in front of everyone? Would that do it? Now answer my question: why the attitude?”

  “You can keep asking me the same question over and over like a bloody echo,” Anderson lifted his coffee to his lips. “But it’s n
ot going to change the answer.” He got a server’s attention and asked for the check for both himself and Byung and turned to face Sam. “You want the equipment, let’s get it.”

  As Sam followed Anderson back to his place, he couldn’t help but continue to wonder what the hell had pissed him off so bad. Was he that bad of a fuck? Should he have skipped getting to work early and made him breakfast in bed? He did deserve that—he was a fantastic lay. Hopefully, Sam would be able to get some more of that as well as maybe begin something more serious with him.

  But right now, he needed to find out fast why Anderson’s room had been set up with video and what if anything it had to do with the Orchid Murders. In all his years of police work, this was the strangest case he had ever been assigned to.

  Anderson drove without glancing back at Sam. He glanced in his mirrors to check the traffic for lane changes and that was it. He had to get over Sam and he had to do it fast. There was enough heartbreak in his life without a gruff cop complicating it even more so. He made the turn into his driveway and killed the engine. Without losing a breath, he climbed from the vehicle and charged through the front door leaving it swinging open. He stopped suddenly. It still felt strange coming home after the break-in. The person who did it may have been looking for something. Maybe they couldn’t find it. Whatever it was that they were looking for Anderson was sure he didn’t have it. Shaking his head and taking a deep breath, he remembered that Sam was right behind him and showing weakness would just not do. He took one shaky step after another and soon he was in the kitchen peering into the fridge for something with alcohol. When he didn’t find anything, he settled for a bottle of cola. Maybe if he stayed out of the way, Sam can get camera and get out.