Crime Wave

by Adam Carpenter

  “Ooh, got someone hot on the side, Jimmy McSwain? Of course you do.”

  Jimmy swallowed, pushing away the developing photo of Frisano. He didn’t want to think about him.

  He departed with a wary smile, hopped the subway at 23rd Street, forcing himself to avoid the 10th Precinct. At last, he was back in his neighborhood, and with his mind a jumble, and after a stopping at a local deli, he entered Hell’s Kitchen Park on Tenth Avenue and 48th Street, not far from home. He was glad to sit lazily, watching the rest of the afternoon slip by while guys played basketball, kids dangled on the jungle gyms. He felt a strange sense of calm. Until his trip to the Dress-Up Club, he’d avoided the world since the Fourth of July. He’d not gone up to the lake for the fireworks, he’d not replied to the text messages and or phone call attempt from Frisano. One day, he’d hear him out, and then he’d move on. He had to. Frisano didn’t understand what he’d done. How, with the blast of his gun, he’d shot a whole in Jimmy’s heart. Even as their attraction was taken to the next level, he knew, deep down, he never should have taken things so far with a cop.

  His mind shifted to other things. He thought too much of Eaton McDonald, of Alicia too, and of young Daisy McDonald whose life was forever impacted. And then he remembered Duvan Ahkbar, whom he’d never known and whose motives seemed so desperate. He pictured a lovesick Rocky Martino at Rikers, waiting for word of his release. Mallory and her boyfriend Taylor were hard at work on that part, and it could happen in the next day. He thought too of Detective Rand of the 24th Precinct and the mess Jimmy had handed him. A lot had happened, and still, Jimmy realized just then he hadn’t seen a dime for his services. But that was okay. For now. He’d need another case soon enough. Given how the world worked, it wouldn’t take too long. Crimes happened every day; they were as inevitable as the heat in summer. Punishment sometimes took longer.

  He cracked open the beer which sat beside him, protected inside a brown bag. He’d bought it at the deli. It was sweating in the heat. Sipping at it, he felt a moment’s refreshment. A couple of people passed by, saying hello. That’s what Jimmy liked about still living where he grew up. Beyond the infusion of actors and other Broadway folk, Hell’s Kitchen was more than neighbors, it was family. He’d helped the Martinos. He’d helped other families along the way. Sure, it was good to have the cops on your side, but sometimes a private detective did the things they couldn’t. Solutions came from several places.

  Jimmy set his beer down, looked down the street. What he saw was unlikely.

  “Rocky?”

  He wasn’t alone. It was Larry Dean, the NYPD detective caught in the hostage drama from the other day. The way they walked, full of energy, of the promise of tomorrow, took Jimmy way back to his childhood. These same streets, these same two kids. They’d gone to school together, all of them, they had each chosen a different path within the framework of the law. Police, private, criminal. Each of them had paid the price of their decision.

  He waved over to them, and they went through the gate and approached the bench Jimmy sat on. Jimmy stood up, and he embraced Rocky, then gave a quick pat on the shoulder to Dean. It was a close as the two men had been in years. Dean still didn’t get the gay thing. But for now he let it slide.

  “How you doing, Rocky?” Jimmy asked.

  “Can’t believe Mallory and Taylor got me out so fast. I told you I was innocent.”

  “And I said I’d prove it.”

  “I’ll never be able to thank you, Jimmy. From now on, responsible is my middle name.”

  Jimmy didn’t want to tell him he’d need to live up to that. Rocky was going to learn soon enough that he was going to be a father. The McSwains and the Martinos, forever linked by blood now. Good blood, pulsing, life giving blood. Nothing spilled. It wouldn’t be easy; he and Meaghan were not exactly going to end up getting married. Jimmy knew Rocky would learn more, too, about Duvan, about what he’d really done to Alicia McDonald. He just had to pick the right time. Let today’s sunshine rule. Rain always found its way back.

  “And you, Larry. You recovered?”

  “I wasn’t worried,” he said, false bravado in his voice. “Frisano, he’s a hell of a shot.”

  “Yes,” Jimmy said, his own voice betraying him now. “He sure is.”

  Rocky pointed to the beer in the bag. “That looks good, Jim. Got another?”

  “Nah. What do you say we head over to Paddy’s. Get a fresh one. Larry, you coming?”

  “Sure.”

  Rocky put a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m buying, Jim. I mean, it’s the least I could do.”

  Solve a murder, get paid in beer. Jimmy McSwain decided to see the good in life for now.

  EPILOGUE

  At the conclusion of every case, Jimmy liked to write up a file.

  He was out of the city, enjoying the sunshine up at Peach Lake. He’d finally given himself a break from the heat, both literal and figurative. He was working on his tan, and at the moment was sitting on the edge of the dock, an iPad at his fingertips. Meaghan was swimming nearby. He said he would join her in a few minutes. His mind had processed the details of the case, and he was ready to put them into words. The sun rode high in the sky, the glare hitting his screen. He reached for his sunglasses, which were just beside him along with his shoes and shirt and phone. Now that he was in the company of his family, the phone was almost unnecessary, unless a new case found him. No one else was calling.

  Frisano had apparently gotten the message. Jimmy did not want to talk to him. The death of Rashad Assan was being celebrated. Captain Francis X. Frisano of Manhattan’s 10th Precinct labeled a hero. His picture had been on the front page of the Daily News. He’d received a medal from the mayor. It was all Jimmy could do to watch, and it was the news conference on NY1 and seeing Frisano’s handsome face fill his screen that finally sent Jimmy scurrying out of the city. What he and Frisano had shared had disappeared with the eruption of gunfire. He could have taken him out some other way. Shot him in the knee, disabled him. Not killed him.

  There were still unknown facts. Assan’s motives had yet to be explained, at least to the public. Jimmy supposed he would make contact with Frisano later in an attempt to know why the ex-NYPD, ex-con had gone on his killing rampage. Or maybe he’d stop by the Westside Tavern someday and try to pry it all from Roscoe and Dean.

  Jimmy thought of his night with Frisano. That first kiss at the bar, the heat that sizzled between them as they made their way toward his office. Their first embrace, tight, welcome. How sexy he’d been as he stripped down. How reserved he’d been, too. It showed he wasn’t all about ambition, which had been on full display as he spoke at the mayor’s podium. No, he’d seen the cop as something other than the badge—he’d seen the man, one who was passionate, giving, and really good in bed. If only desire was the only emotion Jimmy felt. Anger ruled him now, because Frisano knew how important talking to Assan was.

  As Jimmy McSwain had promised himself, he’d never date a cop.

  But it wasn’t the Assan case he was wrapping up. It hadn’t been his. Rocky’s case. He just wanted to sum it all up. So, sunglasses on his face, his sister happily splashing in the water, he let a smile cross his face. Next year at this time, she’d be dangling a baby in her arms. He’d be an uncle. He’d do everything for the kid.

  And then he began to type.

  § § §

  Case File #616: CRIME WAVE.

  I don’t trust love. It’s that simple. It’s a dangerous emotion, and an uncontrollable one. It’s been said the heart wants what it wants. But deny it, and that’s where the trouble begins. For a man named Duvan Ahkbar, it had happened when he met Greg Anderson several years ago. The spark was lit, despite Greg’s engagement to Alicia McDonald, and soon the two men were caught up in a torrid affair. The fallout from that affair continues today, and it will last a lifetime. Alicia was targeted, and she was run down in a deliberate haze of jealousy. Duvan was cunning, copping to a lesser charge and serving a shorter t
erm. He’d beat the system, and when justice lets you down, that’s when the heart takes over. Eaton McDonald had no choice in what he did. His brain lost any rationale when it came to avenging his daughter. He, too, was cunning, a match for Duvan. Neither of them had won. Neither breathed the air today. They never would.

  Greg Anderson found the truth in himself, but even still, the tragedy of Alicia’s death continued to haunt him. One day, he might find happiness. For now, he could hide among the showy glitter of the Dress-Up Club and perhaps don the disguise and assume an identity he was comfortable with, or maybe he’d finally see a different light. He’d face his own fears.

  Rocky Martino would never be the same either. He thought he’d met the man of his dreams, one who would allow him to admit to who he was and how he wished to live his life. He’d lost that, but while trying to fake his way to family acceptance, he’d managed to bring two families together. A drunken night with Meaghan was all it had taken. Rocky and I never really saw eye to eye growing up. I suppose things have changed. I supposed I’ve changed too.

  Alicia. Duvan. Eaton. A crime wave of the heart. All wounded, all gone.

  It’s time to close the book on this one. Eaton’s wife and daughter would rise from the ashes. Eaton had left them well off. Money might not solve the past, but it was good at masking the pain. It brought about its own comfort, a cocoon.

  It’s the middle of summer, already one of the hottest on record. I think I’ve sweat enough. The lake looks inviting and cool. Meaghan, mother to be, is getting frustrated with me. One more second, I tell her. I shouldn’t let the simple pleasures of summer pass me by.

  But a new season would soon arrive, and with it, life would be back to normal.

  A new case for me. A new show for Ma. A baby to expand Meaghan’s belly and then our hearts.

  And an old love was coming back. I wanted so much to see him, and I feared its result. The first preview of Triskaidekaphobia at the Calloway Theatre was Friday, September 13th. It was also my thirtieth birthday. I was sure I would be a jumble of emotions, not unlike how Rocky would feel upon learning of his pending fatherhood. How would he react? Jimmy had faith in him this time. So perhaps Duvan had done some good in this life. He’d healed a damaged one.

  See what I mean? The heart rules. Sometimes the barrel of a gun rules, too. Life is found somewhere between those two powerful emotions love and hate. It’s just how it is.

  CASE 616: CRIME WAVE.

  STATUS: CLOSED

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ADAM CARPENTER is the #1 best-selling author of many titles of gay romance, erotica, and mystery. His Passport to a Flings series begins with the short story PASSPORT TO A FLING, followed by the full-length novels FRENCH MEN, ITALIAN GUYS, ENGLISH LADS, and AMERICAN HUNKS.

  Adam’s sexy, soapy trilogy begins with EDEN’S PAST, followed by EDEN’S PRESENT and EDEN’S FUTURE.

  His “White Pine” firefighter novels include SECRET FLAMES, HEAT OF THE MOMENT, A RAGING FIRE, and BURNING TRUTH.

  His “Wonderland” trilogy, co-written with Curtis C. Comer and Jeff Wilcox, are, in order: DESPERATE HUSBANDS, DESPERATE LOVERS, and DESPERATE ENEMIES.

  Among his other novels are DUDE RANCH, the White Pine-spin-off THAT PASSIONATE SEASON, SUMMER’S CHOICE, its spin-off, ISLAND DESIRES. His short fiction has been collected in NOCTURNAL DELIGHTS.

  His Jimmy McSwain detective series began with HIDDEN IDENTITY. He is currently working on the third book in the series.

  Visit him at www.adamcarpenterbooks.com for more information.

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