Crimes on Latimer: From the Early Cases of Marco Fontana

by DeMarco, Joseph R. G.

  “He’s obsessive-compulsive?” Luke said. “One of my cleaners has OCD. He’s a fantastic worker. But he’s a little odd, and I know he isn’t a happy person.”

  “Well, Canny likes to think of himself as having made progress in dealing with his OCD. But he still can’t handle crowds.”

  “You sure this guy can help?” Anton was skeptical.

  “One of his obsessions is technology. He’s got almost whatever technological equipment you might need. Not to mention several humongous flat screen TVs. He has the sweetest home theater set up, too. Hates movie theater crowds.”

  “And he’d just let us use his stuff? Just like that?” Luke asked.

  “Why not? I’ll call him.”

  ***

  True to form, Canny had avoided the parade. When I spoke to him, he said he was more than happy to help.

  We gathered up Anton’s memory cards and anything else we thought we’d need. Hedda agreed to hold down the fort at the hotel room. We left him behind and piled into an elevator.

  Canny lived in a co-op in Chelsea, which wasn’t all that far. But Anton insisted on getting there the fastest way possible and I couldn’t blame him. Luke hailed a cab, and we headed to Chelsea.

  Traffic on Seventh Avenue wasn’t too bad which was surprising, considering that some streets were still closed for the parade. After a block or two, I spotted the same Chrysler following us as I’d seen earlier. Keeping an eye out for a tail was a habit with me. And since this joker had followed us to the hotel, I figured he’d be waiting for us to make a move. I didn’t want to alarm the others but we had to evade the tail.

  I asked the cabbie to make a turn.

  “Turning will be taking you out of your direction,” said the driver.

  “Just make the turn, pal,” I insisted.

  “You are paying so I am going wherever you are wanting.” He made the turn.

  “What’s going on?” Anton asked.

  “We must have a tail,” Luke answered, then looked at me for conformation.

  “Right. Won’t be easy losing him either.” I leaned back and stared out the rear window. About three cars behind us now, the Chrysler made the same turn.

  I directed the cabbie to turn a few more corners and he obliged without another word. We were getting farther from Chelsea but I had no choice. I didn’t want this guy knowing our destination.

  Despite turns and detours down side streets, the tail stayed with us. There was no way the cab would lose this guy. I had the cabbie drop us at an address on a street behind Canny’s building. I thought maybe we could at least confuse the tail by going into some other building first, then somehow moving to Canny’s building afterward without being seen. Once we got to Canny’s place, I’d think about our next moves.

  ***

  Canny opened the door and smiled broadly. Tall, paunchy, with spiky graying hair and wire-framed glasses, Canny’s appearance was oddly comforting.

  “Wasn’t sure you were coming. You said you were coming, but then—”

  “There was a tie-up on the way and we were delayed.” I had to stop him before he got started or we’d never move beyond the door.

  Canny waved us in and closed the door behind us. He surreptitiously rapped it softly with his knuckles several times. I was certain he knew exactly the number and the reason. He was good at disguising his little habits, but I was even better at noticing after years of knowing him.

  “How’s life in Philadelphia?” Canny wiggled his eyebrows, then blinked his eyes rapidly a few times. “You guys won’t mind if I finish feeding my pets before we do whatever it is you need done?” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and headed down the hall to his animal salon, which is how I liked to think of the room he’d set aside for the bulk of his menagerie. Canny had countless pets and lavished tons of attention on them. I suppose they returned that affection in their own ways.

  Following, we found ourselves in a very clean, cool green room. A forest of plants of all sorts, tropical and otherwise, grew in countless pots around the room. He’d also strategically hung large bare tree branches here and there for the exotic birds and anything else that might like a perch high up. There were cages for some small animals, like hamsters and mice. Tanks with frogs, lizards, a snake, and a remarkable number of other things had been placed here and there. A fruity-grainy-sawdust odor hung in the air, a pleasant reminder of pet shops I’d been in as a kid.

  “Won’t take long,” Canny murmured as he dropped various kinds of food into the different cages.

  “Shit!” Anton yelped and jumped, nearly grabbing onto one of the suspended branches. “What the hell was that?”

  “What was what?” Canny, engaged in the feeding ritual, didn’t turn around.

  “Something small and furry just ran across my feet.” Anton looked down and shook his leg.

  “Could be Tiny, my Hedgehog, or maybe it was Jane.”

  “Jane?” I asked.

  “Jane is a very small spider monkey. So small they thought she’d die when she was born. But I took her and nursed her and now she lives here.” As if on cue, Jane, diminutive and wiry, hopped up onto Luke’s shoulder. “She wouldn’t hurt a thing.”

  “Y-you sure about that?” Luke glanced sideways at the little monkey.

  “Monkeys can be vicious,” Anton said and brushed at his pants making sure no other creatures were hanging around waiting to run up his leg.

  Jane, probably sensing Luke’s discomfort, hopped from Luke to Canny and chattered as if she were amused at all the attention.

  “You allowed to have all these animals in the apartment?” Luke asked, looking around in amazement.

  “It’s my condo. They have a rule that says no dogs. Rules don’t say a thing about other creatures.” Canny slapped the lid down on one of the cages. “The condo board hasn’t bothered me so far.”

  “Amazing,” Anton said under his breath.

  “Finished! We can get to your work now, Marco. Told you it wouldn’t take long. So, what is it you need?” Jane hopped off his shoulder and, chattering loudly, leaped onto a branch, causing it to swing back and forth.

  I launched into a brief explanation of the situation as Canny led us into another room. This one was a technological paradise, and Canny smiled broadly when he heard Luke and Anton ooh and aah. Computers, laptops, iPads and other tablets, flat screen monitors and more sat in orderly rows on tables. A light table, and tech gizmos I’d never seen before filled other stands.

  Canny pointed out the equipment he thought would be most useful and said, “Just upload your memory cards into that device. Then you can view everything all at once on any other device individually or all of them at once. Maybe you’ll like it better on one device at a time. Or, you can do it one video at a time on all devices. Or, if you—”

  “This is terrific, Canny. Letting us use all this stuff. Must’ve cost a fortune,” I said to stop him from generating an unending list of options. “Let’s watch while they figure it out.” I gently pulled Canny aside.

  “Shame about Marsha,” he said. “I was at her club recently. Classy joint and packed to the gills. She was one of our best advertisers, too. Always bought full page ads in multiple guides.”

  “That’s Marsha. She did everything in a big way.”

  I watched Anton and Luke as they worked uploading the memory cards. Luke pushed a few buttons and the largest of the flat screen monitors came to life, first with grainy static then with a tight shot of a muscular man wearing only the suggestion of a bathing suit and waving a long rainbow streamer behind him as he danced down the street.

  “I see I didn’t miss anything again this year,” Canny remarked as he stared at the screen. “Same tired old stuff. I’ve put in my time, I don’t have to attend every parade.”

  Anton’s video moved along, spotlighting hunky guys, gaudy floats, and even shots of the crowd. Then a frantic montage slashed across the screen: faces, bare asses, rainbow flags and banners, more faces, pecs, crotch
es and thighs, floats, shouting onlookers. It was a mad dramatic jumble.

  “What were you thinking when you took this?” Luke asked, laughing.

  “It’s a montage. Get over it. There were some wild things this year.” Anton snapped. “I thought it’d make a nice intro for Marsha’s video.”

  “Look at that guy. Are those pecs or has he had hormone shots?” Luke said.

  Anton concentrated on watching his video, and I thought it was good that he could laugh, forget what’d happened, even if only for a moment.

  “That guy was perfect. I remember spotting him a block away. He’s perfect. You couldn’t ask— hey, look what that wise ass did.”

  “Hard not to notice that,” Luke said, his eyes glued to the monitor.

  “Where’s the footage you guys really wanted to see,” Canny asked, already bored with parade antics.

  “Who knows? I took so much video I can’t remember what happened when.”

  “You didn’t mark the memory cards with time and date? You didn’t keep track of what you did while you were doing it?” Genuinely shocked, Canny shook his head. “You should always keep everything in order. You’ll never find anything this way.” Then he tapped each tiny memory card three times.

  “We can fast forward until the Dragettes appear. It’s all there,” Anton said. “And that’s when Marsha makes an appearance.”

  Luke pressed a key forcing the parade and the crowds to fly by like an old silent film. People walked and gestured with fast jerky movements. I was mesmerized by the scenes playing themselves out on the screen. If you look at everything around you in high speed, you might get the urge to slow it down and change a few things. The way we interact with one another seems strange and unreal at high speed. Every gesture and facial expression looks insincere and superficial. Maybe the insincerity is what’s real, and we don’t notice it at the normal speed of life.

  “A lotta hot bods but no drag queens,” Luke smirked. “You sure you weren’t secretly making a ‘Guys Gone Wild’ video?”

  “Wait! There’s one of the Dragettes,” Anton said. “This is where it starts.”

  That brought us all to attention and we focused on the screen in eerie silence. Eventually Marsha appeared, walking with her usual regal bearing and majestic attitude. What a sight she was. Her dazzling white sequined dress reflected sunlight like shards of rainbows with Marsha floating at the center. Deftly balancing her outsized bouffant wig with the women-you-don’t-want-to-know coif, she moved with a grace you wouldn’t think possible for her size. But Marsha carried it off with dignity, elegance, and tasteful humor.

  “Look at that smile,” Anton said, his voice catching in his throat. “Marsha was a beautiful person. And never selfish or stingy. She threw money around like it was popcorn. Even when she had next to nothing. Now that she had everything, she was even more generous. And happier than I ever remember her being.”

  “That’s what makes this so difficult,” I added. “It had to be an accident. I don’t believe she’d—”

  “She’d never kill herself,” Anton interrupted, his voice tight with anger. “Look at her. She was at the top of her game. Her club was raking in money. A while back, she told me as soon as she paid back all her investors, everything would be profit. She would never kill herself.”

  “He’s right, you know,” Canny added. “I saw her a few days ago and she was bubbling about how good things were. Went on and on about her projects and plans.”

  “She must’ve had a lot of investors. A club like that takes serious cash to get off the ground.” Luke commented. Being in business himself, he knew what it took to run one. The connections he’d made gave him insight into lots of other ventures. His own housecleaning service had required a number of investors. Once he’d paid them all and was doing well, he’d begun investing in start-ups himself.

  “Marsha had plenty of investors. She said there were always more who wanted in. I remember she joked about refusing to get involved with the broken-nose crowd. She was tough.” Anton said.

  “All clean money, then?” I asked.

  “As far as I know. Why not? It’s not so unbelievable. Plenty of her friends have money. Big money. Look at Barkley. He’s so rich he has no idea what to do with his cash.”

  On the screen, Marsha paraded serenely down the street, waving to fans and friends, smiling and bowing her head. Like the drag royalty she was. Then the Dragettes started their routine and Anton focused on them. Except, you couldn’t miss Marsha, a tower of sparkling white sequins, in the background. She’d begun to mug and prance and interact with the others as her part of the Dragettes act.

  “Look at them. Aren’t they something!” Anton laughed. It was a bitter sound. “If only they’d known. If only I’d known what was going to— I would’ve…”

  “You couldn’t possibly know these things. It’s no use going over and over stuff, Anton,” Luke said, his usual tenderness with me coming through as he spoke to Anton.

  “I know but—”

  “Hey! Look at that.” Canny pointed to an area of the screen near the top and way at the back. “What’s Marsha doing there?”

  “Seems to be having an argument,” I said. “With another drag queen. Can’t quite see it clearly, though.”

  “It’s too deep in the background,” Canny said. “You can zoom in, Luke. Tighten in on that area. It’ll be a little grainy but we’ll be able to see the action a little better.

  Canny showed Luke what to do and in seconds the image had shifted from the Dragettes to a tighter shot of Marsha and the guy she apparently argued with.

  “Look at that guy,” Luke said. “If that’s a drag queen, she’s the worst I’ve ever seen.”

  “Yeah, look at those clothes. Like she picked them out of the trash.” Fascinated, Anton didn’t turn away from the screen when he spoke to us.

  Canny made an odd snorting sound. “Standards have dropped. Used to be every drag was beautiful. Every one of them.”

  “And what about this guy’s make-up?” Luke asked. “Seems to me that—”

  “Make-up? That guy doesn’t have a speck of it.” I said.

  “That’s right,” Anton murmured. “No self-respecting drag queen would be seen in public like that.”

  “Didn’t even bother to shave. Look, there’s another one just like him. Equally bad.” Canny pointed to the screen and shook his head. “Not beautiful at all.”

  “They don’t move right, either,” Anton commented, never breaking his stare.

  “Look. The second one closed in on Marsha’s other side.” Luke said. “He’s even worse. Didn’t make an attempt to look like anything. He’s wearing tattered old rags.”

  “Look at the crowd. They’re laughing as if it’s a clown show.” Canny remarked.

  The onlookers certainly seemed entertained by the antics. They laughed, poked each other in the ribs, and called attention to Marsha and the guys who seemed to be harassing her. Everyone apparently thought it was part of the Dragette performance.

  “You sure this wasn’t part of the act? Those guys are putting on a pretty believable clown show.” The bad drag, odd make-up, and physical antics proved they were good at playing the buffoon which is why it appeared so funny to onlookers. The guys pulled exaggerated faces, hopped up and down at strategic times, and badgered Marsha in what could be taken as an amusing attempt to corral her for some reason. They were convincing. But Marsha didn’t really seem to be part of it all.

  Marsha didn’t look happy. In fact, she seemed worried, even frightened. The crowd wasn’t paying close enough attention to notice that she wasn’t acting. I began to have doubts about this being part of the show.

  “Kinda does look like an act,” Canny said. “Maybe they planned this. They’re guys she knows. Maybe they were supposed to look disheveled and rowdy. Maybe Marsha had them—”

  “Marsha wouldn’t know people like that,” Anton snapped. “They don’t know how to dress, how to move. They’re awful. And Marsh
a doesn’t look like she’s having fun. It’s not part of the act.”

  Marsha’s tormentors kept at it for a little while, keeping the crowds entertained. All of a sudden, Marsha swayed and toddled precariously on her high heels. She appeared confused and disoriented.

  “They must have done something to her.” Anton said. “Look how she’s acting. How could I not notice when it happened right in front of me? I should have seen this. I should have helped her.”

  “You were taking video,” I said. “You were concentrating on the Dragettes, not on what was going on in the background. You’ve gotta admit it was way off at the back. You couldn’t have seen it, not with all the other activity going on.”

  “Marsha looks confused. She’s not walking in the right direction,” Canny said.

  “Could be some kind of chemical spray,” Luke offered.

  “They have that kind of thing?” Canny asked.

  “You’re kidding, right? They’ve got everything and anything. You just have to know how to get it,” Luke said. “I know people in Philly who can get their hands on whatever you want. All illegal, of course.” Luke watched the screen intently as he spoke. “Yep, looks like they disoriented Marsha somehow. Anybody see them spray something? Or maybe inject her with something?”

  “I didn’t notice anything,” Anton said. “Shit! What good was I out there?”

  “I’ve gotta watch it again,” I murmured. I needed a closer look. I’d have to scrutinize it a few times to be sure what they might’ve done. “I didn’t think they got close enough to do something like spray her or inject anything. Need to see it again to be sure.”

  “I missed it all. I was so intent on the Dragettes, and I thought Marsha was just having fun with them and the show,” Anton said. “I missed it all.”

  “That’s what those guys were counting on,” Luke offered. “Everyone paid attention to the drag dancers and the comic routine Marsha seemed to be doing. No one noticed when they actually moved in and did something to Marsha.”