by LS Sygnet
I grinned. “No, I don’t suppose you are.”
“She starts saying this shit about how she’s not gonna let me corrupt her son. Now, I used to be quite the player, but Bobbi wasn’t my type in the first place.”
“Your type being what?” Johnny asked.
“I like men,” he shrugged again. “No desire to hook up with the impersonators. I get the draw, obviously, because they are a huge part of the business I do here, but they’ve never been my thing. So I was pretty damned sure that she was wrong. And then before I could even defend myself, she shrieks that she should’ve drowned me at birth.”
“You’re kidding.”
He looked at Johnny. “No sir, I’m not kidding at all. I thought, what the fuck, who is this bitch? And then just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “I recognized her. Not that it was necessary. She said she wasn’t gonna let me turn her real son into a freak like I am.”
“What did Bobbi do?”
Alex drifted back in time and relived the memory with a faint smile. “He looked as shocked as I did, I’m sure. The little shit jumped off the stage and let her drag him out by the ear practically, but he sort of turned his head over one shoulder and grinned at me. I knew he was as delighted as I was that he wasn’t alone anymore.”
“You felt alone?”
“At that time, yeah,” he said. “Detective Eriksson, you’ve met my father. He’s this pillar of the medical community. Some say he’s the best vascular surgeon in the country. I love my dad, and he’s always been supportive of me, but I don’t think he ever really forgave me for this place.”
“The club?” I asked.
“Yeah. I mean, he bought it for me, but then shit hit the fan after we opened.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because there was an uproar over what I named it. When he bought the place for me, it was with the understanding that it would be a very respectable club for guys like me. We were going to show this city that we’re not a bunch of perverts, out of control and all that. It’s part of why I’m such a stickler for how the customers behave while they’re here.”
“But your dad didn’t approve of the name,” Johnny said.
“He never said one way or another,” Alex admitted. “But I know that it caused him some grief at the hospital. Mostly, it was on account of people like Hellfire and his ilk. There’s a lot more of them running around Darkwater Bay than you might imagine.”
“I think of all people, Johnny and I understand what you mean more than others,” I said. “Obviously your father wanted to protect you, Alex. He made sure that Joanne didn’t continue to be a negative influence in your life. He’s still a very well respected surgeon too. Chief of vascular surgery no less. This business clearly didn’t hurt his career.”
“No, I guess not, but now Bobbi…” he choked on his grief again. “People are gonna say that Bobbi got what he deserved.”
I thought of the message carved into the young man’s abdomen. Abomination. A little bit of indignation boiled in my belly. Who gave anyone the right to decide what was appropriate and what wasn’t for someone else? Science, the only thing in the world that made complete sense to me, had offered more than compelling evidence for the biological root of sexual orientation.
“Detective Eriksson?”
“Don’t worry,” Johnny said. “She’s got a bad habit of zoning out sometimes, Mr. Waters. It doesn’t mean she isn’t focused on this investigation. On the contrary, it’s usually a good sign.”
I looked at Johnny sharply. Was he remembering something else? Not a good time to ask. “Alex, if we can show you pictures of some of the protesters from Foundations Baptist Church, do you think you would be able to identify the most vocal of the group?”
“Not by name, but there are some faces I’ll never forget.”
“You have seen this guy you call Reverend Hellfire, right?” Johnny asked.
“Once or twice. I think I’d know if he was at any of their protests. He hasn’t been, Commander Orion. At least he wasn’t at the one that got violent in October.”
“Alex,” I began carefully, because it was clear to everyone that we were probably looking at a hate crime. Still the question had to be asked. “Were any of your customers giving Bobbi attention that was out of the ordinary?”
“Like… stalking him?”
“Or making him uncomfortable,” Johnny suggested. “If he was as popular with your clientele, it might not be so unusual that he get a little more attention than your other performers even.”
“Right,” Alex scrubbed the back of his right hand under his nose. “You think there’s some remote possibility that professional jealousy or a customer who had too much interest in Bobbi might be a factor.”
“It’s a possibility that we must at least consider, Alex,” I said. “Does anybody fit that description?”
“The performers could get bitchy with each other, but nothing that I think would’ve ever escalated to murder. As for the patrons of the club, I have such a strict hands-off policy, if they were inclined to get creepy, they wouldn’t have done it here.”
“And would Bobbi have told you if something happened to him away from the club?” I asked.
“Yeah, while he lived with me. Since he and Sasha hooked up, I’m pretty sure that he would’ve told him, and it would’ve stopped immediately. Sasha’s not the kind of guy you’d wanna mess with, Detective Eriksson. I’d say he’s on par with Commander Orion’s size.”
“How long did Bobbi live with you?” Johnny asked.
“He moved in – at my insistence – a couple of months after we first met. Does that matter?”
“Probably not, but we need to know as much about your brother as possible, Alex. How old was Bobbi at the time he started living with you?”
“Not quite eighteen. He kept running away from home. I guess things became pretty untenable with Joanne and Randy after she dragged him out of here. He would’ve ended up peddling his ass down on Mercer Boulevard if someone hadn’t taken him in. At least with me, I knew he’d finish high school and have the freedom to explore his… well, sexuality.”
I recalled that Mercer Boulevard was Darkwater Bay’s version of a red-light district, and shuddered. Poor kid probably had few options if his parents didn’t approve of his sexual orientation. “I suppose your mother and her husband didn’t react well to that either.”
“They hauled me into court and ended up getting smacked down by a judge,” Alex said. “He emancipated Bobbi so my mother had nothing to say about what he did from that day forward.”
“I see.” I felt fingers flipping through a file in my mind of all the children I’d seen slaughtered by parents for no rational reason whatsoever. Could we be missing something big regarding Bobbi’s relationship with his parents, that they might’ve additionally laid some blame for the direction in Bobbi’s life as it had been influenced by Kyle Goddard, his best friend? “Alex, out of curiosity, what is Joanne’s objection to homosexuality?”
He blinked several times. “You mean, do I think she could’ve killed her own child?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Oh. Well, I guess her hang-up isn’t much different than Hellfire’s. She thinks we’re unnatural, an abomination that God will one day remove from Earth.”
Johnny’s shoulders tensed. He recoiled away from Waters, marginally, but I noticed it immediately. I knew that he was reliving the grisly crime scene we witnessed tonight too.
“One last question,” I said. “And I apologize, Alex; I know how difficult this is for you.”
“Anything I can do to help, detective,” his eyes welled with tears again. “I hope you believe that I want you to catch whoever did this more than anything.”
“We got Bobbi’s pre-show routine from the staff here at The Cockpit before you arrived. My question is, by the time he was ready for his pre-show drink, was Bobbi actually ready to go on stage?”
Johnny’s eyes widened when Alex answ
ered with a slight frown, “Of course he was. Bobbi would’ve never allowed anyone here to see him during his transition process.”
“So dress, makeup, hair, it would’ve all been –?”
“Of course. What are you saying, detective? Exactly how did my brother die?”
Johnny’s eyes met mine. He obviously died ready for his show, and the crime scene we witnessed – unlike Kyle Goddard’s – was designed to reveal what Bobbi was immediately, rather than waiting for the autopsy.
I suspected that he wanted the city to know without a doubt this time, that his crime had a specific target. Hard to miss it this time, when the victim was a performer at The Cockpit, a club notorious for drag shows.
Hate crime? All doubts evaporated. It was just a matter of zeroing in on which group of intolerant bastards decided to take action. And from what we’d learned so far, my suspicions leaned in one very specific direction. The connection between Kyle and Bobbi made it obvious.
At least, that’s what I believed tonight.
Chapter 24
Half the bar was emptied by the time Johnny and I exited Waters’ office with more questions than answers. CSD was still processing the dressing room, and Maya hadn’t absconded with Tippet’s body yet. I asked one of the uniformed officers to drive Alex home. After all the vodka he consumed, he wasn’t safe to drive.
Crevan met me near the bar. “We’ve got three dozen statements, probably a hundred more men to interview after the funeral tomorrow, Helen.”
“Good. Are they cooperating?”
“In a frightening and eerie way,” he said. “I never would’ve thought we’d find potential witnesses so cooperative in a place like this.”
My eyebrows inched upward. “A place like this? Are you stereotyping, Crevan?”
“You would’ve never believed I would have a little bit of bias on this subject. Am I right? Because of my dark side, I should be pumping a fist in the air and celebrating the sexual liberation and social superiority of my people.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Maybe it is what I meant. I came over here tonight expecting to find… I’m not even sure what. And what do we get? Respect. Cooperation. Some seriously subdued behavior. Except from the owner of the place.”
“Believe me, he’s subdued now.”
“Has Johnny mentioned the plan now?”
I glanced down the hallway. “He’s talking to Forsythe. We have a few new leads. I’ll let him tell you what he plans to do next. I honestly have no idea.”
“What do you think we should do?”
“Crevan, don’t ask me that. This is Johnny’s case, and I’m not going to be anything than supportive of how he wants to handle things.”
“Good to know, Doc, but I think I can defend myself,” Johnny murmured over my shoulder. His fingers curled around my waist. “Did you get Waters sent safely home?”
“Yes.”
“I’m taking you home now,” he said. “And before you start arguing, might I remind you that you’re still supposed to be inactive, and I have it on high authority that you haven’t made it to any of your physical therapy sessions this week.”
I hadn’t even thought about therapy.
“All right,” I said softly. “But will you at least tell me what the next steps are?”
“Crevan and Tony are going to the Tippet residence to make a formal notification, and set up a time that we can meet with them tomorrow,” Johnny said. “We’ll talk to Sasha Kravchenko after that. Meanwhile, the interviews we didn’t complete with the patrons present tonight will be conducted at Downey Division.”
“Does this we include me?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Johnny said. “I’d rather that you get back into your normal routine again. There’s also the matter of looking after our houseguest.” He focused his attention on Crevan. “I’ll meet you back at Downey in a bit. I need to take Doc home.”
We were less than a block away from The Cockpit when Johnny spoke. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Helen.”
“I don’t understand why you’re suddenly cutting me out of the investigation. If I did something you didn’t like, you should tell me.”
He chuckled softly. “Sweetheart, I recognized that spacey moment you had in there tonight. It’s what happens right before you go off and do something stupid. Now I’m not accusing you of solving this case and refusing to share the burst of insight I know you had, but I am asking you to sleep on it and consider carefully if this is really the pattern you want to establish with your fellow law enforcement officers in Darkwater Bay.”
“I haven’t solved anything,” I snapped impatiently. “Don’t you think I learned my lesson when you were the one who got hurt this time? Jesus, Johnny. It’s one thing if I’m the one getting shot and bashed over the head –”
He reached for my hand, lifted it to his lips. “I’d rather avoid those outcomes as well, Doc. I’m not sure yet why you’ve got such a bent for self destructive behavior, but I’d like you to remain among the living – at least until I figure out what all these feelings I have for you mean.”
I yanked my hand away. “Because you don’t think you’ll care enough when you figure it out to give a damn if I’m dead or alive?”
“That’s not what I meant. I’d like to see if you can get through one investigation without being assaulted, shot, or otherwise incapacitated. I’d also like the rest of us to come through this unscathed too.”
“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
Johnny’s frown penetrated the darkness in the car. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Ned,” I whispered. “He’s already dead. It could be argued that he’d still be alive if I hadn’t stomped off in a huff on New Year’s Eve and kept the case that should’ve been mine and Devlin’s in the first place.”
“Now you’re just being foolish,” he said. “I was determined to have OSI take the lead on this case. Doc, I wanted you to work with me. The last thing I figured you’d do was give up without a fight.”
“So it is my fault.”
“No, nothing is your fault. You’re impulsive, and from what I’ve been told, this was something I’d come to expect from you when we were looking into Datello and the link to what happened to Journey Ireland. Doc, why would I have followed you, called for backup at Dunhaven if I didn’t know what you planned to do from the beginning?”
“If you knew, why didn’t you stop me?” It came out more accusation than question. Was I blaming Johnny for what happened to him? Even a little bit? Somehow that seemed very wrong to me.
“Maybe I’d rather have you start confiding in me because you trust me, not intervene because I have no choice but protect a woman who is so guarded that she doesn’t share what she thinks about even the little things.”
Silence settled heavily, uncomfortably between us. Well, at least that was my perspective on the situation. Johnny might’ve felt something different. He reclaimed my hand after all, his thumb swishing back and forth over my knuckles.
Breath heaved in and out of my chest, stabbed its way inside, hitched and required a conscious effort for release. The outskirts of Darkwater proper bled into Bay View.
“It was what he said about other people,” I rasped. “That Bobbi probably got what he deserved. Somebody carved judgment on that poor child’s body. Who gave anyone the right …?” The words choked in my throat. After all, who gave me the right to decide if Rick should live or die? Who gave me the authority to determine that his lies, his attempt to manipulate me into securing his freedom from prosecution and make me complicit in his crimes should be punishable by death? I didn’t want Johnny to remember what I’d done, even though I had the foresight to cloak my crime in a plausible suicide. Had he seen through that lie too? Did he see through me every time I lied?
“Nobody has the right to decide that just because Bobbi Tippet was gay or dressed like a woman that he deserved to die, Helen. It’s not a crime to be who you are.”
I stared at my lap. “What if whoever did this was genetically born a killer? Aren’t we condemning him for being who he is?”
“I know you don’t believe there is such a thing as someone born to kill, Doc. It’s something that goes wrong in somebody’s head. It’s a choice.”
Was it a choice? I couldn’t remember, couldn’t see past the red, blinding rage I felt when Rick laughed and taunted me. He made me complicit in his crimes the second he married me, when he flaunted his criminal cousin Danny Datello in my face in the reception line at our wedding. Hearing the words, knowing that there had been no love for me at all, that I was nothing but an insurance policy for a group of corrupt men did something to me. It unleashed a darkness that had been waiting silently, assiduously, lying dormant until the tiniest little excuse justified its release.
I pulled my hand away from Johnny’s and tucked it into the pocket of my coat. I’d often wondered with a sort of fatalistic defeat about the age old argument. Nature versus nurture. Either way I looked at it, I was fucked. Nature dipped from Wendell and Marie’s gene pools to create me. Nurture had taught me how to lie and kill and never look like what society had come to expect from the conscienceless ilk of the world.
Acid tears burned my eyes. I fought them, conjured every justification imaginable. Damned conscience. Johnny had somehow sparked mine back to life. This whole damned city, with its corrupt residents, police and politicians, they played their role too. They made me suddenly care beyond going through the motions of seeking justice through legal means.
“Baby, “ he murmured. “Something’s eating you up. I can feel it. Why won’t you talk to me?”
Same reason I hadn’t talked to him before. I feared prison. I feared that my reawakened conscience would force me to do the right thing and surrender, confess, free myself from the burden that would either consume me into darkness or sentence me to prison for the rest of my life.
“Will you at least tell me if this is something I used to know?”
I shook my head.