Murder on Camac

by Joseph R. G. Demarco

  Would be nice to get my hands on that particular secret. It'd do wonders for business. I could see the headline: "Philly P.I. Closes Coldest Case of the Last Century"

  Who was I kidding? More likely Brandt was murdered by someone with a different motive. An angry publisher, a jealous writer, a fanatic, a lover, a thug, or who knew what else?

  The phone rang and my daydreams vanished.

  "Fontana."

  "Mr. Fontana?"

  "Kent!" I recognized the voice immediately. How can you forget someone who held a gun to your chest? "Hey, still interested in that job?"

  "I've been thinking, Mr. Fontana..."

  "You're not going to bug out on me, are you? And, call me Marco."

  "N-no. No. I..."

  "Anton will let me know tonight and I'll call you. He's gotta be on board." I wasn't so sure he'd been convinced that the guy who'd held him at gunpoint was really a sweet kid.

  "I understand." He let out a small sigh. "I just wanna say thanks, even if it doesn't work out."

  It all depended on Anton now.

  Chapter 9

  Bubbles was crowded. Amateur nights always packed them in despite the cover charge.

  "Hey, Fontana!" One of the regulars waved me over. Dale, a stocky, middle-aged guy had been coming to Bubbles for years. He was observant, clever and, most of all, generous. The dancers loved him and not just for the fifties and hundreds he sometimes handed out. He actually treated them like people.

  "Here to take your pick of the newbies?"

  "I gotta admit it's exciting seeing them start out."

  "How many years've you been coming to Amateur Night?"

  "Since...," he said and stroked his chin remembering. "Since the first time you had one'a these nights. Never missed yet."

  "How'd you like to be a judge?"

  "A judge? You mean, choose the winners? Me?" The red blush rising in his face was visible even in the dim lighting.

  "Only hitch is you gotta stay until it's over."

  "Hell, yeah!" Dale exploded with a hearty, never-thought-this-would-happen-to-me laugh.

  "I'll get you when we're ready." Patting him on the back, I snatched a shot glass and placed it upside down in front of Dale, a signal for the bartender to give him free drinks the rest of the night.

  Outside the dressing room, Bruno strutted in full military camo duds. Impressive, but then Bruno was impressive in and out of clothes.

  "Hola, jefe," Bruno said.

  "Learning Spanish from your new boyfriend?"

  "We're history. Don't you get the news? Anyway, I knew Spanish before I met the pendejo."

  "Where's Cal? Wanna go find him for me?"

  "Oh, I get it. You wanna be alone with Anton. Ain't gonna happen. There's more amateurs in there than flies on shit. They been arrivin' for an hour. It's like Nerve City, that's why I'm out here. Don't need them to throw me off."

  "Gotcha."

  I entered the dressing room. It was wall to wall guys, dressed and undressed. All vying for mirrors and lights. They primped, pulled clothing on and off, tested tear-away pants, brushed their hair, and inspected every inch of their bodies. Some practiced their moves: gyrating, wiggling their asses, or thrusting their hips forcing their pouches to bounce temptingly.

  Anton stood in the middle of this beauty tsunami. Head and shoulders above most of them, he glanced in ten directions at once. Chaos was not his thing, he insisted on order and control. I got his attention and waved him over. It was fun watching him wade through all the manflesh, pushing well-formed asses out of the way, nudging this guy and that, slipping his hands around enviable waists, gently moving them out of the way, until he stood in front of me.

  "It's hot in here, let's go to my office," I said fanning myself.

  "Cute, Marco. You're a laugh a minute." Anton smiled. "Did you do some special advertising? This is the biggest group we've had in years."

  "Maybe it goes in cycles," I said. "The male psyche is set to want to strip every so often and sometimes there's a convergence of individual cycles causing them to rip off their clothes all at the same time. Or, maybe there's a full moon, no pun intended, and we benefit."

  "You're full of it. As usual." Anton opened the door. In the hall he turned to me, eyebrows raised. "You weren't joking, it's ten degrees cooler out here."

  "It's the men. All that muscle packed together in a small space. There's bound to be heat."

  "There are a lot of hot prospects. We can expand the ranks of StripGuyz and maybe I can think about retiring earlier so I can finish school."

  "Retire? You can't. You have fans, admirers. They're just waiting to give you their money. Every time you're out there your g-string is packed with loot! How can you think about retiring?"

  "It's getting to be..."

  "Besides, it's the only time I get to see you nearly naked."

  "You can see and even have the whole package. Just say the word."

  "You mean two words, right? 'I' and 'do'?"

  "Exactly the words I had in mind. See, we even think alike. We're made for each other." Anton laughed. He kept trying. Maybe one day he'd get the answer he wanted.

  "Yeah, yeah. But we're not thinking alike on retirement. Besides, don't you need the money?"

  "Who doesn't need money? I just don't need all the pawing and prodding and people wondering if I'm just the sum of my cock and balls."

  "I know." I placed an arm around him. "Anyway, I know how smart you are and just how valuable you are to me."

  "As a business asset."

  "Lots more than that, Anton. As well you know."

  I kissed him and neither of us came up for air for a long while. He felt warm and smelled like clean forest air. I didn't want to let go.

  Someone knocked on the door. The two of us broke apart like teenagers caught by parents.

  "C'mon in."

  The door swung open and Kent stood there looking lost and alone.

  "Kent!" I said a bit more enthusiastically than I'd intended. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Anton grimace.

  "H-hello," he said concentrating on me. Then he turned to Anton. "I w-wanted to say I'm sorry. For the other night, I mean. I'm really sorry."

  "Kent," I repeated.

  "I know I was supposed to wait. But... look... even if Anton doesn't want me to work here... I just had to apologize in person. I was dumb. I could've hurt you and I never wanted that. I can't tell you how sorry I am." His voice quavered.

  "Hmmm..." Anton murmured.

  "I'll get going." Kent turned around.

  I said nothing but cast a sidelong glance at Anton and watched him soften. Anton was tough and competent but he was also genuinely compassionate. He was the best and I was lucky to know him.

  "Hold on," Anton said. His tone was commanding and Kent froze.

  "Y-you're not gonna call the police, are you?"

  Anton walked over and placed a hand on Kent's shoulder.

  "What you did the other night was monumentally stupid."

  "I... I know. I'm not gonna make excuses."

  "Now you're back and..."

  "I'm... I'll go. Honest. Just wanted to tell you myself that I'm sorry. I won't bother you anymore."

  "It's pretty brave of you, coming here," Anton said. "I admire that."

  I kept silent and watched as Anton's protective nature took over.

  "You gave me a few white hairs," Anton continued. "But I know what it's like to be desperately in love."

  "I was an idiot. I shouldn't have done it."

  "Then you won't mind if I pat you down?" Anton laughed and I knew everything was okay.

  "Sure. Go ahead. I understand." Kent swung out his arms so Anton could check for weapons. "Go ahead. Pat me down. I don't have a gun. Or a knife. Want me to take the position so you can feel and see?"

  "It's tempting," Anton said. "Very tempting. I'll reserve the right to feel for weapons any time I like. Deal?"

  "Deal." Kent laughed.

  "Next thing I k
now you'll want to strip search him," I said.

  "I might do that. Jealous?" Anton teased.

  "Let me get Kent settled."

  "Did you pick a judge for the contest?" Anton asked.

  "Yep. Dale."

  "Dale? The Dale who's never missed a night since I started working here? That Dale?"

  "Your most loyal fan."

  "Great. He'll be good. No one pays closer attention than he does." Anton turned to leave the room. "I'll talk to the contestants. You get Cal and Bruno started."

  I gave Kent some papers to fill out and told him to meet me at the bar.

  Downstairs, I approached Cal and Bruno waiting in the wings.

  "Did you toss a coin to see who goes first?" I asked. Cal wore his sailor boy costume which was about as tight as clothing could be without being sprayed on. It was his most popular outfit. Bruno had changed into workman's overalls with a tank top and an orange neckerchief.

  "He'll go first," Bruno said.

  "You lost the toss?"

  "Nah, we didn't need to toss. I'm lettin' him go first." Bruno grunted.

  Cal stood there humming, trying to look innocent.

  "Okay." I didn't want to know what that was all about. "Ready, Cal?"

  "As I'll ever be." He wiggled his buns.

  I stepped out front and took the mike, tapping it to make sure it worked, and cleared my throat.

  "Welcome to Bubbles and StripGuyz Amateur night! Where you get to give a boost to guys who wanna be part of our gang. We've got a huge group for you tonight. Really huge. Your work's cut out for you. The judges are depending on your reactions to the dancers. So, if you like 'em, let us hear it."

  The crowd clapped and cheered, hooted, and hollered.

  "That's what I mean, guys. Just sittin' there doesn't help. We've gotta hear how much you like these boys."

  I paused.

  "The newbies are getting ready. While you wait, we've got two, yes, two feature dancers tonight. First up is Cal..." I waited while the audience applauded and whistled. "Cal is back from his stint on the USS Below the Belt. The sailors there were sorry to see him leave, even if they did like watching him walk down the gangplank. Put your hands together for Caaaaaalllll!"

  Cal's music began for his routine in the small staging area. After that, he'd hop up onto the bar to get up close and personal with the customers.

  I watched for a moment, as Cal gyrated, twirled, and moved his body like a pretzel in heat. It was mesmerizing and the audience was as entranced as I was.

  "Uh, Mr. Fontana."

  I heard the voice and felt the tap on my shoulder and realized I wasn't just another customer. I had responsibilities. Kent was one. He waited patiently for me to break free of Cal's spell.

  "Finished the paperwork?"

  "It's on your desk."

  "Well, let's get started." I looked at his fresh, innocent face. He stared back, confused.

  "Um, okay. What am I gonna do?"

  I placed an arm around Kent's shoulder and he tensed up. The boy was one scared puppy. But brave. To come into an unfamiliar situation, with people you hardly knew, to do something you had no idea about, couldn't be easy.

  "You'll help keep an eye on the crowd. Watch for potential trouble. People who look like they don't fit; guys too drunk to keep their hands to themselves. When the dancers are on the bar, you'll make sure that when customers tip, they don't put their hands where they're not supposed to."

  "What'll I do if I see someone who's trouble? Hustle him out of here?"

  "No. First few nights, come get me. I know a lot of the guys and you can observe how I handle things. There's lots of ways to deal with situations. That's what I'll show you. If it comes to it, we get Kevin, the bouncer, to do the heavy lifting. You'll get the hang of it. You can always ask me or Anton if you aren't sure about something."

  We walked the length of the huge main floor bar and around to the other side.

  "See that guy, backpack at his feet? You wanna keep an eye on things like that," I said, pulling Kent back so the customer wouldn't hear. "You just never know what they've got hidden. Trick is, don't let customers feel they're being watched even though they are."

  "Gotcha, Mr. Fontana."

  "If you're gonna work for me, call me Marco." I winked.

  "Okay... Marco." Kent was appealingly shy.

  "Gotta get back to the stage. Stay here and I'll show you what to do when dancers are on the bar."

  Adding Kent to the other eyes I had on the floor would make life easier. Not to mention I hated being the guard dog on premises. But that was the deal I'd made with Stan, the owner.

  "Give it up for Cal, guys. Anybody feel like joining the navy?" I waited for the applause to subside. "Now you're gonna get a chance to see just how convincing Cal can be when he's in your face. Remember, tips are welcome, wandering hands aren't. Place your tips in the side of the g-string only." That announcement was usually made a few times throughout an evening.

  I went back to Kent who watched Cal move onto the bar.

  "This is when you really have to have three heads and keep your eyes looking in several places at the same time."

  As Cal danced on the bar, I glanced at Kent staring intensely. He was probably remembering Nando doing the same thing.

  "Okay, now see..." I pointed to a customer attempting to place a hand into Cal's g-string pouch along with a dollar. "That's not allowed."

  I moved behind the customer. Cal knew what to do, but backup from management never hurt. Cal deftly brushed away the guy's hand and I leaned in, lips near the customer's ears and whispered, "State law, no touching the dancers in certain places. Tips go into the side of the g-string only."

  I stepped back before the startled guy could react.

  "That's it? What'd you say?" Kent asked, giving me a strange look.

  "Just told him the rules. Keep an eye on him the rest of the night. He'll know we're watching."

  "They really can't touch dancers like that?"

  "State Liquor Control Board has regulations. They send spies to make sure we're complying. Never know when they're here to test us."

  "I didn't know," Kent said. I had a feeling he had a new appreciation for Nando's work.

  "I've gotta introduce Bruno. Then it's Amateur time. You'll really have to be sharp. Customers try to get away with doing more with amateurs. Keep your eyes peeled."

  "Gotcha, Marco."

  Back at the mike, I saw Bruno was ready, rubber hammer in one hand, clipboard in the other.

  "And now, gentlemen, to rev you up for the amateurs, here's a real pro. He brought his tools and he's ready to fix your problems. Give it up for Bruuuuunooooo!"

  Bruno was a crowd pleaser and he knew it. He strutted onto the stage, teasing the guys with his eyes, exuding confidence and pure sex.

  As Bruno began, Kent tapped my shoulder again. I thought about getting mini-walkie-talkies.

  "We've got a situation, Marco." Kent sounded official. "In the corner. Looks like it might get outta hand."

  "Show me." I placed the mike back under the counter.

  Kent led me to a couple that seemed in the middle of a heated argument. One of them gesticulated angrily. The other fended off the first guy's advances. It was dim and I couldn't be sure, so I edged closer, pretending to watch Bruno and Cal. I only heard certain words as the two customers argued.

  "He's... not anymore!... dead and gone... back... with me," the first guy said putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

  "...fuck... away! ...you hear?... get... from me!" The younger guy roughly swiped the other man's hand away.

  I moved in before it became a full fledged fight. As I approached I realized the older of the two was the same guy I'd seen leaving Dreier's office earlier that day. Except now he seemed more arrogant and sinister.

  He looked up, saw me, and his eyes narrowed in anger. Glaring at the younger man, he stood and made for the door.

  "Kent." I waved him over. "See if you can find
out who this guy is." I pointed to the man sitting at the bar. "I'll be back."

  I followed the other guy out and onto the street.

  "Hey!" He never turned to look back as he quick walked. "I just want to ask a question."

  I caught up to him at Broad Street. It was too busy for him to cross and he wasn't happy. When the light changed, he moved and I fell in next to him. Finally, outside the Hyatt, he turned to face me.

  "Stay out of this. It's none of your business. People have already been hurt," he spat out the words and turned to go.

  "Hold on." I'd caught the corner of his lapel and pulled him around. He didn't put up a fight but anger burned in his eyes.

  "Get your hands off me. Don't press your luck," he snapped. The guy was wired and on fire. "Keep outta my business. He's mine and..."

  "Who's yours?"

  He jerked himself away and walked off. Over his shoulder he shouted at me, "Stay away from him. Or you'll pay, too."

  Chapter 10

  "The guy you chased is named Scanlan. Seamus Scanlan." Kent was excited to be helping. The look in his eyes said it all. The same sparkle I'd seen in Anton and Luke whenever I brought them in on a case.

  "Where's the boyfriend?"

  "He booked as soon as I was done talking with him," Kent said. "Sorry."

  "Don't be. Did you get a name? Anything about him?"

  "Said his name was Jared Beeton."

  "What was the fight about?"

  "He said Scanlan was tryin' to convince him to get back with him." Kent smiled weakly. "Sounds familiar, huh?"

  I thought it was a good sign that Kent could poke fun at himself.

  "Did the kid say anything else?"

  "Nope, gulped his drink and shot outta here," Kent said. "I'll get back to work."

  "Yeah." I checked the time. "The amateurs start in five. Keep your eyes open."

  I'd track down Jared and Scanlan and see what I could find out. But that would have to wait.

  ***

  The alarm screamed at nine, waking me from a dream involving a giant hamster rampaging through my building's lobby. He'd gnawed his way through the reception desk and ripped the pants off Carlos who stood there, every inch of flesh exposed. I was about to help Carlos when the damned alarm broke the dream and left me breathless.