by Max Hudson
The captain didn’t reply, just regarded me silently. Finally, she took a breath and said, “Listen, I don’t think that’s your future. I know it. I’ve seen it over and over. People get too emotionally detached from their work and that’s what they turn into.” She reached for some paperwork and started scribbling something down. “Make the arrests for your case, then take two weeks off.”
“Two weeks?”
“That’s an order, Detective Upton.” Her face softened and she gave me a little smile. “Go do something for yourself. Wake that spirit up, remind yourself why you got into this job. I know we’re not the crime capital of the world, but we get criminals all the same. And this town counts on us. We can get sloppy.” She pointed at me. “So, go stoke that fire and come back to us when you’re fully alive. I don’t want to see you a day before, we clear?”
“As crystal.” I took the form she handed me and looked her in the eye. Again, I got that sense of something being just over the horizon, beckoning me closer. Maybe I would finally find it.
“Dismissed. Come back with the perps.”
We drove to City Hall with our sirens blaring. Several other officers came with us to keep anything from getting out of control, so we arrived in a procession of flashing lights and screeching brakes. Basil and I walked calmly into the main hall while our associates stood outside, ready to grab any runners. The treasurer saw us coming and narrowed her eyes.
“Mrs. Albright,” I said when I saw her, “you are under arrest for conspiracy to steal the works of Aris Kahn. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you….”
I finished her Miranda rights and got a cold chill down my spine as I did so. “Captain’s right,” I thought to myself, “I don’t feel anything. This used to be the most intense part of my job. I don’t even care that I solved this in less than a day.”
We brought in Albright as well as the accomplices, a young girl named Moira and a kid who insisted we call him Duke, who Albright paid off to steal the pieces. In questioning, we separated them and played them off each other in the way we usually did. It was amazing to me how many people fell for it, but they almost always did.
“Look,” I said to Moira, feigning innocence, “your friend Duke already told us you masterminded the whole thing. He was just along for the ride. So, it looks like you’re going to jail.”
“What?” Tears streamed down Moira’s face as she insisted that they both took the paintings, and no one had been in charge. The tape recorder got her whole confession. Looking at her, I was again jolted by my lack of emotion. I used to feel bad for kids like her—she just wanted to impress the boss. She was young and unaware of how serious the consequences would be for such a crime. She’d likely go to jail for five years, maybe more, but I still didn’t care.
Arrests were made, the perpetrators of the crime went to jail, and we found the paintings.
“How about you start your two weeks off by taking these back to the artist?” Captain Diaz smiled at me as she suggested it. “Go hang out with some creatives. See if anything sparks.”
I shrugged. “Sure, I’ll take ’em. Basil,” I turned to my partner, “tell all the bad guys to wait until I get back before they do anything fun.”
He smiled. “I’ll spread the word. See you in a couple weeks.”
I walked out to the sound of typing on computers, phones ringing, and interviews being conducted all around the bullpen. No one else even looked up as I left.
Aris Kahn’s gallery was just like I remembered. He had a locksmith changing the locks on the front door as I walked up and the guy stopped to let me in. “Need help carrying those?” He squinted at me as I held the first of three large paintings almost as tall as I was.
“Sure. Grab that second one from my trunk, would you?” He walked over and stopped to look at the piece before shaking his head.
“I guess this is art, huh?”
“I guess.” It took all my strength not to bite his head off. There was no question the paintings were gorgeous—they had a surreal, dreamy quality to them and perfectly portrayed the way love felt. The piece about the trans woman and her male lover was my favorite; she had a square jaw and strong shoulders that matched his, but everything else about her was curvy and girlish. Without spelling it out, the way she was painted showed that she had, in fact, been transformed. It was breathtaking.
We walked over to an assistant and handed her the first one. “I believe these belong to you,” I said gallantly.
“Oh! Oh, Aris! Come down here quickly. Your paintings are back!”
He ran down at full speed and froze in place as he took in the scene. “What? Already? Detective Upton, you are amazing!” He ran up and threw his arms around me in a big hug. I froze, uncertain what to do. The locksmith handed over his painting and the assistants ran out to get the third, so I had no way of excusing myself.
“Hey,” I said finally, “it’s just all part of the job. Get the bad guys and bring in the priceless works of art.”
He grabbed my arms with a surprising grip and pulled back to take me in. “You have no idea what this means to me. I mean, truly. These pieces are labors of love. After they’re displayed for Pride, I hope to donate them to a museum of tolerance opening soon. They’ll be up on the wall for a long time.” He pulled me in again and this time I managed to give him a weak hug back. “And all thanks to you.”
“Well, I… I don’t know about that.” Again, I found I couldn’t move. My heart was jumping up and down and the sensation it created in me was more than I could believe. It was livelier than it had been in years and it felt wonderful.
“Please,” Aris said, releasing me, “you have to join us for dinner. We’re going to our favorite cafe, Caligari, for drinks and food and music. Please come. You’ll be our guest of honor.”
I opened my mouth to insist that I couldn’t possibly, I had work in the morning, but then I remembered that I was on a break. There was no work to be done. So, I closed my mouth and nodded. “Sure, I can come. That’s very kind of you to invite me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “So formal! You’ll have to lighten up if you’re coming out with us. We’re a bunch of freaks and geeks. You know where the cafe is—downtown? On Fifth and West?”
“Oh, sure. I’ve walked by it a bunch of times. I live near there.”
“Wonderful.” He handed me a business card. “Here’s my number. Just give my name at the door. Call if there’s any issue. Oh, I cannot wait for everyone to meet you!” He pulled me in for yet another hug and that time I hugged him back, genuinely enjoying the feel of his strong, stout frame against my tall, heavy one.
“Aris, phone for you!” An assistant across the room held up the receiver to a landline and waved it. “It’s that buyer again.”
“Right.” He pulled away from me slowly and blushed a little. “Excuse me. Duty calls. I’ll see you later.”
“See you.” I said a polite goodbye to the assistants bustling around the gallery and showed myself out. The locksmith opened the door for me again.
“Have a good day,” he said as I walked by.
“Yeah,” I replied, looking up at the sky and breathing in the cool, spring air, “I think I will.”
The rest of the day felt like waking up from a dream. I walked around the art district, taking in the city around me for the first time in a long time. It felt so odd to have no forms to fill out about my movements throughout the morning, no one to report to about who I spoke with or what we talked about. I just did what I wanted to do and didn’t have to worry about who knew about it.
At one point, I bought myself a small paper cone of churros and sat in the park to eat them. I thought of Pinkerton as I munched on them, then shrugged and just went back to enjoying them. So what if I got fat? I had been thin for years. Bring on the chub.
I finished the last churro and decided to get home. I walked back and passed a gay couple out enjoying their day together. They were young and
handsome; one had his arm around the other and was whispering in his ear. The second was laughing at whatever secret the first was telling him. They caught me staring and we had an awkward moment that I ended by walking away. Behind me, the two burst out laughing and then wandered away.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt like someone special was standing next to me. The last good date I’d had was with Emeril and he was long gone. He’d left me for a civilian, a tubby guy with glasses and a nice face. I was furious at the time. I was sure the two had planned the whole thing and left me to writhe in agony. The truth, of course, was that they had simply met at a party that I was supposed to attend. A domestic disturbance had happened just as we were about to walk out together, and I’d gone into cop mode and run off to solve it. I didn’t have to; any detective or even beat cop could have handled it, but that’s how I was back then—always on duty. Poor Emeril. He must have been very lonely when he was with me. I ran off at the slightest suggestion and left him alone on numerous occasions, broke my promises to him, canceled on him over and over.
No wonder my emotions had shut down. They had atrophied long ago.
I went home and masturbated for the first time in weeks. I grasped my shaft and worked it up and down with my lubed hand and thought of Emeril. The memory of his tanned figure wasn’t doing for me, though, so I switched to thoughts of Aris.
I thought of running my fingers through his blonde, messy hair, feeling the strong muscles in his back and shoulders, how his butt would look once I got his pants off. My hand went up and down a little faster, but to my surprise, I went soft. I tried again, but nothing happened. Even my cock was done with me.
Finally, I just gave up and took a nap. I slept for a couple of hours, dreaming the whole time. When I woke up to the alarm I’d set, I was sure I knew what the dreams were about, but once my eyes were open, I couldn’t remember the details. I only knew that they had been warm and inviting like an embrace. I could have slept forever, but I had to get up and face the evening.
After all, I had dinner plans.
Chapter Three
Caligari was the sort of place no cop would ever be seen in. A crooked lamppost marked the spot and just behind it was a doorway hidden in the mural that spanned the outside wall of the building. The doorknob was part of a bird’s black, reflective eye and it felt strange to reach out and touch it to let myself in.
Inside, the atmosphere was calm and pleasant. Couples sat at small, second-hand Formica tables and gazed into each other’s eyes as they drank wine and chatted. A big group sat off to my right at a long table but it wasn’t Aris’ crew.
“Good evening,” a young hostess said. “Do you have a reservation?”
“I’m meeting a group. We’re reserved under Aris Kahn.”
She checked her book and jabbed a finger on Aris’ name. “There you are. Right this way.” She turned to lead me through the place. The walls were covered in old movie posters written in French with bizarre sculptures and hanging plants that spread their branches way out across the space they occupied. We went all the way back to a slightly raised platform separated from the rest of the place by two French doors. She opened them to reveal a big, empty table surrounded by chairs.
“You’re the first to arrive. Shall I leave the doors open?”
I grimaced. I knew I should have come a bit late. “Sure. Thanks.”
She left me to wait on display for the other customers and I quickly took out my phone to look as busy as possible. I hadn’t been out with a large group in a while and I had forgotten the horror of being the first person at the table. It was terrifying.
I messaged Aris to let him know I was there. Was he on his way?
“Running a little late! Order a drink and we’ll be there soon.”
We. That meant he had a date, possibly a boyfriend. Sighing, I flagged down a waitress and got myself a glass of red wine. She returned with it and I sipped it slowly. It was nice, a little fruity with a hint of spice. I was just getting into it when two women dressed in silky pants and tight blouses walked up.
“Hi,” one of them said, holding out a hand for me, “I’m Minerva. This is my sister Blanche.” I shook with the other one. “I don’t suppose you’re the famous Detective Upton?”
“Please,” I said, pulling out chairs for them, “just Mark. Nice to meet you.”
“Look, Blanche,” Minerva said, pulling out an e-cigarette, “he’s so handsome. Don’t you think he’s handsome?”
Blanche tilted her head. “Yes. It’s a shame he’s gay.”
“Oh, how do you know, Blanche?”
“Because,” she got out a second little glass vial to puff on, “I know these things. And I also know something else….”
We both waited for her to finish her first draw on her little glass pipe, then to exhale it out. “I know that he’s recently fallen in love.”
“You couldn’t possibly know that,” I informed her. “I don’t even know that.”
She shrugged. “Just wait. We’ll see if I’m wrong.”
“Ooh, Blanche. What are we waiting for?” Minerva’s eyes danced between us as her sister relaxed back into her chair and I squirmed in mine.
Blanche looked very devilish with her bobbed hair brushing her cheeks and her dark eyes flashing. “For the one he loves to arrive.”
They both stared at me and I found myself sweating. I started to deny her claims again, but just then, the rest of our group arrived. Aris led them into our little dining room and everyone settled into their seats. There were twelve of us altogether and I was the only one not in the art business. Not that I minded, I simply found myself a little fascinated to be in such a different crowd than a group of law enforcers.
“So, you’re a detective?” A man named Simon set his drink down and leaned across the table to look at me. “Seen any dead bodies?”
I laughed. Everyone loved a murder story, even people who insisted they didn’t. “Yes. One. It was awful. I hope it never happens again.”
“One?” His face fell. “I thought small towns like ours were full of secrets and scandals. How disappointing.” He screwed up his face and went back to his drink.
Our town was surprisingly quiet. We were just a short drive from Chicago, making a lot of people assume we had the same amount of crime. The truth was that we were just a quiet little burg. Most of the criminals I dealt with were thieves who stole money with their computer skills. It had been a long time since we’d dealt with the sort of bloodthirsty murderers that made for good dinner conversation.
I looked across the table to see Aris smiling at me, but he had his arm around another guy—a young man I recognized from the gallery. I met Aris’ gaze for a moment, but I couldn’t hold it. His eyes looked at me as if they could see right through me. He looked at ease, in his element, but I was struggling. I didn’t know anything about art or the people this crowd admired. I just sat quietly and drank my wine like a schmuck.
“Detective Upton,” Blanche said, reaching across the table, “tell us about the stolen art caper. We want all the details.” She gave me a sly smile and then did a kind of slide back across the table. “Aris will not be still about it,” she added, winking.
It was my turn to blush, still avoiding Aris’ gorgeous eyes. “Oh, I don’t know that there’s much to tell…”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Simon put his drink down dramatically and stood up. “Everyone be quiet and listen to the detective.” His arms flew around as he spoke and his basic jacket whipped like a cape around him. “He really lived it today. He was in it. So, give him your attention, you hacks!”
Everyone fell silent and turned to me. Simon sat quietly and nodded to me. The floor is yours, that nod said. I gulped.
“Well,” I said, “we originally suspected Aris. Basil, he’s my partner, he and I thought it might insurance fraud.”
The statement garnered a round of gasps and exaggerated reactions. For a moment, I genuinely thought they were mockin
g me, but after a while I realized, no, they were serious.
“It’s very common,” I said, almost apologizing to Aris. “I normally suspect that sort of thing when something very specific is stolen. I once investigated the robbery of a valuable necklace and the same woman who kept sobbing to me about its loss turned out to be the thief. She broke into her own house and everything.”
“People can be so sad and so desperate,” Minerva said quietly.
“Save the poetry, Min,” Simon said dismissively. “Don’t mind her,” he assured me. “Go on with Aris’ case.”
“Well, I didn’t want to condemn anyone without the full details of the robbery. So, after we found out that the pieces were meant to hang in City Hall, my partner and I headed that direction. The mayor let us know there had been some pushback on the paintings during five different meetings.”
“Wait, what?” Aris suddenly sat up straight. “The mayor told me that everyone in his administration was really excited about them.”
“Oh.” I looked down at my jeans and grimaced, wishing I hadn’t just dropped a bomb on my crush. “Well, I’m sure he had good intentions.”
“It’s fine,” Aris said, awkwardly raising his glass of wine. “I just, you know, wish I had known. I could have gone a different direction.”
“And compromise your work?” The man next to Aris seemed truly hurt at the suggestion. “Aris, I wouldn’t allow it. Those pieces were from your heart.”
Aris smiled. “Yes they were. Thank you, Clive. Oh, Detective, excuse me. How did you solve it?”
“The trick is asking the right questions,” I continued, trying not to look at Clive as he drank me in. “See, everyone denies doing anything. No one confesses right away because there’s always the chance they will get away with it. I always make sure to ask vague, open-ended questions and wait to see who gives me too many details. That’s a sure sign of a liar. So, when I asked each suspect about their whereabouts on Monday night, I waited to see who had a planned, bulleted list of alibis. Anyone who had to stop and think about it, couldn’t give me a lot of information, they were likely telling the truth. The perp, who hasn’t been convicted yet, had way too much to say.”