by Long, W. S.
“I don’t think the deputy thinks so. I gathered he thought the anonymous tip was self-serving.”
“When I was looking for Carl this morning, I saw two wine glasses. One clearly had red lipstick. And then Lenny, Ida’s husband, showed up in Carl’s room. Somehow he walked in, and I thought the room was locked.”
“Who’s Ida?”
“Our neighbor. I saw her this morning too. She didn’t have on any make-up, wasn’t dressed up like she normally does.”
“What are you saying then?” Dimas asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think they knew about your stepdad’s troubles?”
“Who’s to say? Lenny was close to Carl, but—”
“But what?”
“Well, Ida was even closer. You don’t think they were having an affair?”
“Who?”
“Ida and my stepdad.”
Dimas sighed, and kissed the tip of Hunter’s nose. He thumbed Hunter’s cheek and then kissed him softly. “I don’t know. And if they did, how would that tie into what happened to Carl?”
“Maybe she’d want him dead?”
“How can we find out?”
“I could ask her,” Hunter said.
“And she could deny everything. And even if she has having an affair, what does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, if Lenny found out, I could see him getting very upset about it.” Hunter exhaled.
“I think there are a lot of what if’s and theories. Maybe we should talk to the deputy some more and try to get more details.”
“Okay,” Hunter said.
They lay still for a moment but soon Hunter shook in Dimas’ arms. “You cold?”
“Yes,” came the whisper.
“You need to rest. Undress and slip under the covers.” Dimas helped Hunter pull off his shirt, and after Hunter threw his pants on the floor, Dimas lifted the duvet to let Hunter slip underneath. Dimas lay on top of the bedspread. It didn’t take long for Hunter to start snoring. Dimas rested, going over what they had just both said about Carl’s death, Lenny, and Ida. The deputy knew something too, but Dimas didn’t know what that was.
Chapter 5
Footsteps woke him. Dimas struggled to open his eyes and once he fluttered them open, he wished he hadn’t. Hunter was pacing, back and forth. “Good God, what time is it?” Dimas asked.
“It’s after two.”
“In the morning? Why are you up?” Dimas yawned, his throat parched. “Come back to bed.”
“I can’t. I need to figure who killed my stepdad.”
Dimas sighed. “We don’t know if he was killed. The sheriff’s office is still gathering evidence.”
“I know he was killed. Carl knows this course practically like I know it. He couldn’t have died like he did by accident. I don’t care what the deputies think, unless they agree that he was killed.”
“You’re crazed with anger, rage, and depression about your stepdad.”
“I know you hated him. So I know you’re not going to agree with what I’m going to do.”
“I didn’t hate him. That’s such a strong word. I hated how he treated you. That he was homophobic. I still remember his words at Thanksgiving—remember?”
“He was just like that because he knew…At least I think he suspected.”
“About you?”
“Yes, and you.” Hunter shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe my head’s turned upside down. I don’t have any proof that Carl knew about us. Just like I don’t have any proof that he was killed. But I just feel it in my gut.”
“Well, does your gut tell you should climb back into bed?” Dimas threw open the bedspread. “Come back to bed, baby.”
“I can’t. My mind, my heart tells me I have to do something. Find out what happened.”
Dimas yawned. “I’ll be happy to help.” His voice trailed off, and his eyelids closed shut. They opened again when Hunter sat on the bed.
“I think right before the sun comes up, around the time he got killed, we should be back on the golf course, where they found his body.” Hunter moved further on the bed, pushing Dimas to the middle of the mattress.
“You don’t think there’s police tape still around?”
Hunter shook his head. “I don’t care. I want to know what happened.” Hunter lay back on the bed. “I can’t get how he died out of my mind.”
Dimas spooned Hunter. “How about instead of going to Miami like we were planning, we do something else? To get away after everything the funeral service?”
“Like where?”
“Well, how about you come meet my parents? Mi madre y mi padre.”
“Really?” Hunter faced Dimas.
“You want to meet them, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Hunter said. “But you don’t have to do it. I know what you’re trying to do.”
“What am I trying to do?”
“Get my mind off things, off Carl.”
“I want you to meet my parents. I want you and me to be out. I want you and me to be a couple in public, not just here alone. I want my parents to meet the man I love.”
Hunter remained silent for a moment, while his eyes searched Dimas’.
“I’m being serious.” Dimas said sternly.
“Of course I’ll go.” Hunter paused. “You’re okay being out?”
“Yes. And if we aren’t, it’ll be the subject of media for some time. You saw reporters in the lobby. I’m perfectly fine being an un-closeted professional golf player. Are you okay being out?”
Hunter didn’t blink when he answered. “Yes. If you are, I am.”
Dimas moved close and kissed Hunter lightly on the lips. “I can’t wait to show you Lima. You know there are some pictures of me when I wrestled in my high school. I would have to show you my old school.”
“So tell me about Lima and your family.” Hunter said.
“My parents now live in a small apartment home in Miraflores. It’s not very big. And they probably overpaid for it, but they think when they retire from teaching they can sell it. The apartment is a quick walk down from the hill to the Pacific Ocean. We used to live in Callao, the port city of Lima.”
“Can you take me to the Lima Golf Club? Show me where your father coached you and the other kids?”
“Sure. I can show you that, my old schools in Callao, and the historic district. We could even stay a little longer. I could show you Cuzco, Aguas Calientes, and we could hike Macchu Picchu.”
“How long are we going to be in Peru?”
“I think to really show you my country, maybe two or three weeks.”
“You’d miss some tournaments,” Hunter said.
“That’s fine.”
Hunter’s eyes widened. “You’d miss the Masters.”
“I know. But as the TPC winner, I have two more years of invitation. I’d rather take you away from this all, and take you to Peru.”
“You’d give up the Masters?”
“For you? Yes. I would.” Dimas kissed Hunter again. “I love you, babe. You know that.”
Hunter closed his eyes and rested his head on Dimas’ chest.
Dimas placed a hand on the back of Hunter’s neck and cradled it. Before long, Dimas closed his eyes and soon faded off to sleep.
* * * *
“Babe, it’s almost light out,” Hunter whispered. He was anxious to start. He barely got a few minutes sleep after he spooned with his boyfriend. He got up earlier even, and scrounged for food in the hotel lobby.
Dimas nodded then yawned. Hunter rolled out of bed, and headed to the bathroom. Dimas yawned louder.
When Hunter returned to the bedroom, Dimas stood and stretched. “God, this is early.”
“You don’t have to come with me.”
“Umm…no, that’s out of the question. I’m going.” Dimas wiped the sleep out of his eyes. “Let me put some clothes on.”
Hunter grabbed a pair of running shorts, T-shirt, and a flashlight. He sli
d into his sneakers and watched Dimas slowly get ready. Dimas moved like a zombie trapped in a box, and when it was his turn to pee, he struggled to stand without swaying over the toilet.
When Dimas approached Hunter several minutes later, he was better, having washed his face and drinking water from the bathroom spigot. They left the room, and took the stairs. Hunter led them to a side exit. In the distance, parked off to a side was a TV station van.
“Shit,” Hunter whispered.
“I think it’s empty.” Dimas pointed a way. “Come on. This way.”
Hunter followed, trusting Dimas as they made their way through the early morning hours. Fog hugged the ground, and crickets and frogs provided a noisy symphony. Pretty soon they would stop as the sun lifted her head over the horizon. When Dimas stopped, Hunter almost ran into him.
“I’m not sure the way now.”
Hunter patted Dimas’ shoulder. “I know my way around here.” He stepped around Dimas and walked through a small path through the pine trees and saw palmetto. Dew covered the ground. “Is this where it happened?” Hunter pivoted, trying to confirm this is where his stepdad lay.
“No, it was over here.” Dimas pointed. “There’s nothing to see here.” Dimas walked further away. “I don’t see anything.” Dimas brushed his foot over the grass, looking, scanning for anything that appeared out of the ordinary.
“Neither do I. This was a stupid idea,” Hunter sighed. They canvassed the area in silence, covering one end of the pine trees and then another. After several minutes, Hunter spoke. “We should head back. I don’t see anything that would help us. I know he’s dead. But not why?”
“Sorry, babe.” Dimas walked close to Hunter, and patted the top of Hunter’s back. Hunter turned and hugged Dimas.
“Let’s go,” They headed back but then heard voices.
“Shit, someone’s coming.” Dimas grabbed Hunter and they crouched behind a large saw palmetto bush, big enough to cover a Volkswagen beetle. Dimas let out the breath he was holding when they both saw it was a runner jogging past, music blaring from the headset. Sunlight now peaked. Hunter stood, but Dimas placed his hand and forced Hunter behind the foliage. He placed a finger to his lips to quiet Hunter from protesting.
A woman’s face appeared in the grassy area where Hunter and Dimas had scoured minutes before.
“That’s Ida,” Hunter whispered into Dimas’ ear.
Ida focused her attention on the grass. Bile welled up inside Hunter. There was no reason for Ida be there unless…unless she killed Carl. Or knew someone who did.
Hunter moved to stand up and confront Ida, but Dimas’ strong, painful grip on his arm forced him to maintain a crouched position. Hunter’s head spun. He couldn’t believe Ida, a friend of his mother, could even be involved. Was there a clue he missed about Carl and Ida? It’d be one thing if Ida cheated on her husband with Carl, but murder? Was it her lipstick on the glass by Carl’s bed?
Ida knelt on the grass and scoured it, looking left then right, right then left. She did this several times, finally placing her hands on the grass where Carl’s body had been outlined.
Hunter’s head lurched while he fought the urge to vomit. His throat burned; the bile surged and he could taste bitterness. Hunter almost fainted. He steadied himself and silently counted. He needed to breathe. He wanted to breathe, but his chest constricted. Fortunately, Ida moved away, scared off by another jogger. As soon as she moved far enough away, scared off by the runner, Hunter moved forward and placed his hands on the ground. He breathed in, but he couldn’t stop it, and soon he vomited.
When he was done, Dimas offered to help him up. “Everything okay?” Dimas asked. “Are you sick?”
Hunter appreciated Dimas’ concern. “I got dizzy. Thinking about Ida, Carl and his death…I don’t know. I’m a little queasy but I’m okay.”
“How’d you vomit any food? We haven’t eaten anything.”
“I couldn’t sleep so I went downstairs when you went back to sleep. I had a couple of muffins and some Cheetos from the mini-snack bar they had.”
“Well, let’s get out of here,” Dimas said.
Hunter nodded and accepted his help getting up, but something bright shone on the ground after he stood. The sun hit something at the right moment. Underneath the edge of the saw palmetto bush was something shiny. Hunter avoided the puddle of his own vomit and moved towards the shiny object. He crawled underneath the brush, avoiding the sharp saw palmetto petrioles, and the pointy leaflets of the palm. His fingers pawed through the soil and when his fingers encountered a round object, he pulled out an earring.
“What is it?” Dimas asked.
Hunter crawled backwards, careful not to get his eye poked by parts of the palm that spread out. He held up what he found in his hand. “You don’t think this is what Ida was looking for?”
Dimas eyed the object. “An earring?”
“Looks like a clip on too,” Hunter said.
“Does Ida wear clip ons?”
“Anyone can wear a clip on,” Hunter said. “How do we know its Ida’s?”
“We don’t.” Dimas motioned Hunter to follow him. “Let’s get out of here. It’s getting lighter out. We don’t need that.”
“Okay,” Hunter said. He stuck the earring in his pocket and followed Dimas. It couldn’t be sheer coincidence that there was an earring not far from where Carl’s body had lain and Ida looking for something off a well-known path, that couldn’t be coincidence either. Then Hunter thought about all the foot traffic present during the TPC tournament. It could be just coincidence. The clip on could have belonged to any number of people, possibly using this way as a shortcut between holes. “I think we need to find out if this earring was Ida’s.”
“And how are we going to do that?” Dimas stopped and faced Hunter. “Are we going to show Ida the earring and confront her? We have no proof it’s hers. I think you should turn it to the deputy or whichever detective is in charge.”
“And then they’ll ask us why were near the crime scene. What do we say to that?”
Dimas nodded. “And what do we say to that? My boyfriend thought he was one of the Hardy Boys?”
‘I just couldn’t wait for the police to tell me what happened.”
Dimas shook his head. The hotel loomed closer. “We didn’t gain anything by going there you know. We don’t know why or how Carl died. Whether it’s an accident, or someone killing him.”
Hunter’s head hung low. “I know. But we can’t stop trying.”
* * * *
Dimas rolled his luggage to the door. He still didn’t know if Hunter was able to go back and retrieve his personal items from the hotel room he had shared with Carl. He unfolded the courtesy newspaper that had been shoved underneath the hotel door, and folded it back up. The local paper headline about Carl’s death shouted in bold letters: “Sudden Death.” Without hesitating, he pulled open the garbage can and threw the newspaper away. He didn’t want Hunter to see it. If Dimas wanted to read about it later, he would try an online copy.
He’d already packed whatever was left of Hunter’s clothes in Dimas’ suite.
A gentle opening of hotel room door and a moment later, Hunter was in the room.
“Well?” Dimas asked.
“Hotel security said the police hadn’t released the room yet, so I can’t get any of my personal belongings or remove anything. I’m not sure if they’re finished. I saw black powder in Carl’s room. I was able to look and see what they’ve done but just for a few seconds. They asked where Carl’s golf clubs were because they weren’t with the hotel, and I told them I wasn’t sure.”
“Why would they want to know that?”
“I have no idea. I left them with the bell captain after the tournament. I can’t believe they’re missing.”
“Maybe Carl took them before he—”
“Died?”
“I haven’t checked the house to see if he went back. With all the construction and renovation, I’d be surprised.”
Dimas scratched his head. “Why would Carl renovate the place if he was heavily in debt?”
“I don’t know. A lot of things right now don’t add up.”
Dimas kissed Hunter on the cheek. “Let’s go to your house. We can plan the memorial from there. I can look for Carl’s clubs.”
“Well, I know what they look like. I was with him when he got his newest set, so I should be the one looking for it.”
“You’ve got a lot on your plate. I’m just trying to help.”
Hunter laid his head on Dimas’ shoulder and sighed. “I know, I know. Maybe we can figure it out when we get to the house.”
Dimas scanned the room to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind. “Come on, let’s go to your house.” They took the elevator and walked across the lobby. Dimas kept his eyes on the ground. From the corner of his eye, he caught Hunter doing the same thing. They were both ignoring the guests in the lobby. They were almost through the doors out into the open when a small crowd rushed them. “Shit,” Dimas said under his breath.
“Mr. Kanashiro, care to make a statement about Carl Mullins’ death?” one reporter asked.
A microphone was shoved near Hunter, with a different reporter asking, “Aren’t you Carl’s stepson? When did you hear about Carl Mullins’ death? Where were you when you heard about it? Has the sheriff’s office told you anything about his death?”
With his free hand, Dimas forcibly grabbed Hunter’s arm and dragged him towards his car down the hill. The reporters hadn’t given up, waiting for one of them to comment and walked briskly behind them, easily keeping pace. Hunter almost tripped on Dimas’ luggage that he was hauling.
“What’s your relationship to Carl Mullins? To his stepson?”
Dimas stared straight into the camera, and moved towards the microphone and without thinking blurted his answer. “Hunter’s my boyfriend. How about letting him time to grieve!” Dimas said it loud enough for the other reporters to hear and for a brief second nothing happened other than cameras clicking, taking photographs. By then Hunter and Dimas were close to Dimas’ Tesla.
“Please allow Hunter to grieve!” Dimas shouted this time while the cameras gave birth. Dimas caught a few of the media double-checking to make sure they caught the last two sound bites. Luckily, the news reporters moved away from the car, expecting maybe for Dimas to peel away like a bat out of hell, and before they knew it, after Dimas threw his rollaway in the back seat, Dimas was down the block, heading toward Hunter’s house. He reached Hunter’s house in less than ten minutes since traffic was moving. As soon as Dimas pulled up in the driveway, he shut off the power.