Murder on Camac

by Joseph R. G. Demarco

  I knew the bartenders there. Always good to make friends with the guy pouring your drinks. Sometimes they pour information, too. I'd made other acquaintances there, too, who'd helped me out on more than one occasion.

  Everybody hated the place but sooner or later everybody showed up there. Fact is, when you went into Stella's, at least you knew up front what the guys wanted. Nobody played games. If someone came onto you, you knew it wasn't your body they were after. At least not just your body. And the only size that mattered was the size of your wallet.

  "Yeah, great place, especially if you're looking to get your pocket picked," Niko said. "Jared was right. Stella's caters to the underbelly types. One of the guys Scanlan had with him at the bowling alley was a hustler who hangs at Stella's. Calls himself Beto. He's young and very hot."

  Well that was something anyway. One name leads to another and another.

  "What did he look like, this Beto?

  "Average height, dark wavy hair, beautiful face, dark eyes, and clear pink skin. But his eyes. They were always moving, always sizing things up."

  "Anything else?"

  "Can't think of anything." Niko looked over my shoulder. "I gotta get going. I've got a client coming and I need to get his charts out." He rapped his knuckles on the desk in a nonchalant way, as if he were punctuating the end of the meeting.

  I stood and pulled a business card from my pocket and my keys spilled onto the floor at Niko's feet. He quickly scooped them up and was about to hand them to me when he took a look at them and whistled.

  "What?" I said.

  "I didn't know you were a member. And you've got an Olympian level membership. My cuz never told me. But he's protective of Olympian members."

  "I'm not a member. What makes you think that?"

  "This key, man. It's for a locker in the Olympian dressing room." Niko picked out Brandt's key.

  I felt my heart beat faster and I'm sure my eyes widened. This was what I was waiting for.

  "You sure about this? The key goes to a locker in this gym?"

  "Marco, you kidding me? This is my cousin's place. I'm a member. Not at the Olympian level but I'm a member and I work here. I know this stuff. Believe me."

  I gently took the key from him.

  "I could hug you, Niko." I laughed.

  "Not that I'd mind but Tony gets a whiff of that and I'm a dead man." He smiled and his teeth sparkled whiter than white. "So why does this key give you an orgasm?"

  "It might crack this case wide open. We've gotta open the locker."

  "You're gonna have to talk to Stavros. I mean, if it belongs to a member, he protects their privacy. Especially Olympian members. They pay a lot and they trust him."

  "Well..." I was about to go into the details then I thought better of it. "I'd better talk to Stavros. He around?"

  Niko turned back to the desk and picked up a phone.

  "I'll buzz him." He pressed a few buttons and waited. "Hey, cuz, Marco Fontana is here. He needs to talk to you.... Sure... sure. I'll tell him."

  I looked at him questioningly as he placed the phone back in its cradle.

  "He says I should take you to the spa lounge. He'll meet you there."

  "Lead on," I said.

  If the gym was swanky, the spa was designed to make you feel like a child of Zeus. The elevator opened onto a floor with a layer of fog wafting over it, which gave the impression you were strolling over clouds. The fog machines worked overtime and the expenditure on CO2 must've been huge. Just part of astronomically-priced spa services.

  Everything in the spa had a golden hue. Soft pink and blue lighting seemed to originate in mid-air. The floors were coral-colored marble, accented with pale green marble. Delicate harp music hung in the air and the scent of vanilla drifted lazily by. The place was geared to obliterating stress.

  "Stavros will meet you in the lounge, Marco. Have some bottled water or whatever you want." Niko turned to leave and with clouds underfoot, he glided off in god-like fashion to engage in celestial pursuits.

  The ethereal music wafting through the air calmed and relaxed me, so that I wanted nothing more than to drift off to sleep. But the feeling I'd been followed earlier snapped me back to reality. I pulled out my cell phone and called Luke.

  "What's up, Marco?" Luke's beautiful mildly-accented voice had enchanted me from the moment we'd met several years before.

  "Got some time to meet?"

  "When?" I heard his keyboard clacking in the background as he multitasked.

  "I'm at Olympus." I paused for effect.

  "You joined and didn't tell me?! I'll have to join so we can work out together."

  "Would I do that? I'm on the case and I need your help. Can you come down?"

  "Be there in a flash. Where will you be?"

  "Call me when you get here."

  I'd formulated an idea to avoid mishaps on the way back, in case I'd been tailed. I needed Luke to help.

  The refrigerated cabinet containing bottled water and juices was a wooden unit with satyrs and fawns, nymphs and centaurs cavorting around the frame. I pulled out a bottle of water. It was imported, of course. All the contents of the case were exotic and supposedly good for you.

  "You gonna like that stuff, my friend," the raspy voice behind me said. Stavros had arrived. He stood there grinning, all five feet five inches, curly graying hair, bright gray eyes, and rippling muscles. His tight-fitting, teal tank top emphasized his powerful build. He wore warmth and friendliness like a badge.

  "Stavros! Long time, buddy." I extended my hand.

  "When you gonna join, Marco? You afraid what you gonna find here?" He pulled me into a powerful hug.

  "Still got a contract with the old gym, Stavros. As soon as that's done, I'm yours."

  "Gonna give you a special deal, Marco. 'Cause havin' you here is good for business." Stavros slapped me on the back. "And maybe we can work a deal for some'a them dancers to perform some time?"

  He always had an angle. But he was a big hearted guy and I never minded his sales pitches. Besides, he did a lot for the community and fought hard to have his business here. A lot of the neighbors were none too happy when it was proposed. Of course, after it went up and people saw what a gem it was, tunes changed and suddenly there was no one around who'd admit to having been against the project.

  He led me out of the waiting room and into the golden hued hall.

  "Sure, Stavros. We'll talk. But right now..."

  "You got a key? I hear you got a key to one of the Olympian lockers?"

  I took my keys from my pocket and dangled them in the air. The Olympian key stood out from the rest like a tux next to tee shirts.

  "This one of your keys?"

  "Yeah, yeah. How did you get this? People, they find them, they sometimes drop 'em in a mailbox. We got a code on the keys."

  "I thought that's what the number was but the Post Office would never part with that information. So, how can I get a look at what's in the locker?"

  "I can't do this, my friend. My customers they depend on my discretion. On the safety of what they store in these lockers."

  "How about if I tell you I know who the locker belongs to and..."

  "Impossible. There is no way."

  "What if I tell you he's dead and his partner wants what's in the locker?"

  "Dead?"

  "Dead. Helmut Brandt. He's dead and he left this key with his partner."

  "I could not believe my ears when I heard this news. He was a beautiful man, Marco. Heartbreaking. In the bars they speak of this because they are afraid now. Pah! Little queens. Not a real man in the bunch. Helmut was a real man. He was afraid of nothing."

  "This key could help solve his murder."

  "Murder? I thought... It was not a mugging? The news says this. Everybody talks about the mugging. This is why they fear the streets."

  "It was no mugging, Stavros. If you open the locker and let me take a look, we'll know more."

  He hesitated. Shaking his head back a
nd forth, he paced the floor and the fog swirled around him. The eerie lighting and the fog turned Stavros into an old satyr protecting his treasure.

  "I'll let you talk to Mr. Hollister. He was Brandt's partner. Brandt left the key for him in an envelope. Obviously there was something he wanted Mr. Hollister to have."

  "Maybe it's better if I talk to him first. Cover my ass, right?" He laughed and it sounded something like a cement mixer.

  "Whatever makes you comfortable, Stavros." I pulled out my cell phone and was about to dial.

  "Let's go to my private office, Marco. Too many ears here." He looked over his shoulder at the shapely young man and woman at the reception counter both of whom might have been mannequins except that once in a while they blinked.

  He walked toward the elevators, the fog engulfing him. Vulcan making his way back to his forge. I followed in his wake and we entered the elevator.

  His office on the top floor occupied one whole corner. Ceiling to floor corner windows gave him a spectacular view of the city. The office was larger than a lot of apartments I'd seen and was furnished with sofas, club chairs, and tables laden with magazines and statuary. It had a light and airy feel due partly to the windows but also to pale blue walls and blond furniture. It felt good just being there.

  "You got the number?" Stavros sat behind his desk and punched something into his computer, then stared at the monitor.

  I flipped open my phone and recited the number.

  "Not the number in his record, my friend."

  "Stavros, you don't trust me?"

  "Greeks and Italians are too smart to trust anyone, my friend."

  "The number's different because Hollister, his partner, has to stay with friends. Somebody broke into his house."

  "They diiiid?" Stavros looked horrified. "What for? They can't leave this guy alone? His lover dies and they can't leave him be?"

  "Somebody was looking for information. Brandt was a writer and had a lot of information that some people would like to see disappear."

  "Ahhh, this makes sense."

  "So, can you place the call?"

  "This information? Is it valuable?"

  "No, Stavros. Not in dollars. Just in secrets. He may have known things that some people would rather keep hidden."

  "I seeeee," he said.

  "Maybe the information is here." I held up the key. "If word gets out this is a possibility... they could come here." I paused for effect. I didn't expect Stavros to cave out of fear, but placing that thought in his head wouldn't hurt.

  "We don't have to worry, my friend. We got protection. And alarms."

  "Oh, I know, and I wouldn't be concerned about it either, if I were you." I smiled reassuringly. "What bothers me is that Hollister's heart is breaking right now. Helmut was everything to him. And when he found the note from Helmut giving him this key and telling him that he'd find one last gift here, well, I don't have to tell you, Stavros. My heart nearly broke when I saw the old man's face."

  Stavros looked at me as if he were trying to figure out if I were telling the truth or making it up as I went along. I saw his internal debate in his eyes. Should he believe me, should he use the romantic tale to allow him to get rid of whatever it is someone would kill to have, should he just toss me out on my ass? Slowly a sympathetic smile crept across his face.

  "My friend, who am I to deprive an old man of his love's last gift?" He wiped quickly at his eyes with his fingers. "Come, we'll go to the lockers."

  "You don't need to call Mr. Hollister?"

  "Why should I bother a man who is already steeped in sorrow? No. I will trust that you are doing the right thing."

  As we left his office my cell phone rang and I saw it was Luke.

  "Luke. Stavros is taking me to the Olympian lockers. Can you meet us at the elevators?"

  "Luke?" Stavros said. "My favorite little Luke who is still not a member here either?"

  I nodded and smiled to myself. "Little" Luke was several inches taller than Stavros.

  "He's coming to give me a hand. If that's all right?"

  "Of course. Of course. I like this Luke and I will make him the same deal as for you." Stavros winked at me, jabbing me gently with his elbow. "Of course, if the two of you, you know... I can give you a household membership. An even better deal."

  Everybody wants to be a matchmaker.

  "We will meet him at reception and return to the Olympian level. It's a special elevator." Stavros said.

  ***

  Stavros stepped out first and held his arm across the doors to keep them from closing. Luke and I move into the softly lit entrance. Everything seemed to glow from the inside, from the gold-veined white marble floors to the walls covered in yellow man-made stone infused with sparkly flecks. The lighting seemingly emanated from nowhere causing the place to radiate with exclusivity and superiority.

  Two muscled men in towels ambled by, followed by three older men, likewise wrapped in towels. They were draped with an air of ownership and entitlement. All of them glanced our way as if they were sizing up new prospects begging entry.

  There was no way I could afford this level of membership, not in money or in snooty attitude.

  I turned to Luke but his dark eyes took in everything as he judged whether or not it was worth the expense of membership.

  "You boys should consider this," Stavros said. "It's up to your standards. Especially you, little Luke. I am aware what you expect in a place. You have exquisite taste, my friend. This, you will like."

  "The lockers first, Stavros. Then we can take the tour."

  "Always business, Marco. You must learn to relax. Give yourself a treat once in a while. We have masseurs with hands like silk." He shook his head and started off down a side hall.

  Along the way, more men in towels, a few gorgeous towel boys, and a stunning trainer or two wandered by. The fresh scents of newly laundered towels, of soap and shampoo colored the air and the pungent odor of heated wood from the sauna lingered as we passed.

  The special lockers were in a room off the main Olympian dressing area. I was distracted by several men in varying states of undress. You'd think I get to see more than my share in the dressing room in Bubbles. But it's never enough and it's always different.

  "Here we are," Stavros said, his sandpapery voice tearing me away from the sights around me. "First I unlock this door." He ran a key card through a device on the wall and the little light blinked from red to green. The door, made to simulate an ancient wooden gate, swung inward.

  We found ourselves in a slightly smaller room with banks of lockers each about a foot square, lining the walls.

  "The key?" Stavros held out his hand and I placed the key in his palm. "Each has a number. You see?" He held out the key. "This one is in the back."

  He led the way once more, turning a corner into a cul-de-sac. With a flourish he placed the key into the lock. The door opened and there, beneath some towels, was a laptop.

  "That's it," I whispered. I cleared my throat. "We hoped we'd find a laptop."

  "Go on, take it," Stavros said. "Tell Mr. Hollister, I will close his beloved Helmut's account."

  I pulled the laptop out carefully, then rifled through the towels. There was nothing else. Not even a note.

  "Thank you, Stavros. I'm sure Mr. Hollister will want to thank you himself."

  "No need, my friend. I only hope this will bring you the information you need."

  "Time and Nina will tell," said Luke.

  ***

  Luke and I stood in the reception area. He had his messenger bag and I'd bought one of the Olympus gym bags to carry the laptop. Then I had a thought.

  "You take the laptop to Nina." I handed it to him.

  "Why? What's..." Luke took the laptop and stuffed it into his bag.

  "Just a hunch. I want to collect Hollister. He'll need to be there when we look at the contents. He can tell what's important. He might even know passwords."

  "Good idea."

  "Go on ahead. I
'll call Hollister." I flipped open my cell phone.

  Luke pecked me on the cheek and left.

  "Tim? I've got some good news." I explained the situation and he was more than eager to join in. I told him I'd drive by and pick him up since we were both anxious to get to work on the laptop.

  It had grown dark and a cold breeze kicked the air around. There wasn't much foot traffic, rush hour was over and people were probably deciding what to do for the evening. Broad Street looked elegant and expectant, its buildings lit and waiting. The cold air was clear and City Hall had finally been sprung from its scaffolding, looking brand new.

  I headed for the parking lot in my building. None of the crew was around when I arrived which wasn't unusual. Shift changes, bathroom breaks, and other things often kept the staff out of view. It would've been a problem if this were a strictly valet system. But it wasn't so I hoofed it up to the fifth level where my car was snug in its space.

  I pulled out my keys and was about to open the door when someone mashed me face down into the hood. I felt a trickle of blood run from my nose and smelled gas fumes and oil. My assailant was rough and strong. He quickly twisted my arm behind my back, moving it up until a knife-like pain shot through me. I refused to make a sound. He leaned in on me heavily, making it difficult to breathe.

  "Word of advice, Fontana." He tugged my arm up a fraction and the pain slashed through me. "Forget this case. There ain't nothin' more to find out. This arm," he said and tugged again for emphasis, "ain't the only thing's gonna hurt."

  There was something familiar about his voice. Something I couldn't place. I wanted him to say more so I could figure out where I'd heard him before.

  Then something heavy and hard whacked me and things went dark.

  Chapter 18

  I opened my eyes and there were three nurses staring at me. A set of triplets. All of them with short, dark brown hair, tortoise shell glasses, and light make-up. They were all past middle age and looked to be very kind hearted. They smiled at me and three pairs of hands pulled the thin blanket up to my chin.