Cops and Comix

by Rhys Ford

  “Because we found a list of items in the dead man’s pocket—a list that matched up to some of the inventory you had on your site. A few items didn’t line up, so I’m going to ask you to verify they were sold.” Castillo unfolded a xeroxed list from his notebook and passed it over to Alex. “Can you do that for me?”

  “Um, sure.” Alex took the paper and studied it. “I’ll have to check my inventory to see when something was sold, but what you’ve highlighted looks about right.”

  Castillo nodded and took the paper back. “Apparently, your next-door neighbor, Mr. Shandan, felt the printing and copying business wasn’t as lucrative as he’d like, so he decided to pay one of his more… larcenous employees to liberate some of the items listed for sale on your site.”

  “But none of that’s stored here,” Alex protested softly.

  “Mr. Shandan seemed to think otherwise.” The detective motioned around the office. “Has he ever had access to your shop? Back here, maybe?”

  “He uses our bathroom a lot, but that’s across the break room. I usually keep my office locked unless I’m in it. We don’t have a lot of cash on hand. Most of our payments are electronic, but there’s a safe for the drawer. It’s maybe two thousand at most.”

  “See, our dear Mr. Shandan didn’t know that. He thought you were stashing the good stuff back here. So he sent one Michael Rafferty, formerly a resident of North Kern State Prison, to locate a few things in your inventory in exchange for a payout. The plan was for Rafferty to go up into the ceiling, squeeze through an opening between your shops, and let himself down into your place.”

  “But how the hell did he end up dead? And in my shop?”

  “That’s where it gets interesting. Our Mr. Rafferty not only did not show up for work, he also did not contact Shandan about the items he’d been sent for. Shandan figured he split with the goods, but after a little while, there was a curious smell coming from Shandan’s shop. He finally popped the ceiling tiles up over on his side and peered through the opening—”

  “And what?” Alex was almost afraid to ask.

  “His burglar had the unfortunate luck of expiring from a heart attack before he could actually get into your shop.” Castillo paused to take a sip of his coffee. “Shandan didn’t know what to do, so he left Rafferty up there until he could figure something out. What he finally decided on was to go through the opening himself and get Rafferty out of the crawl space by pulling back the tiles on your side and shoving his deceased employee out of the hole.”

  “Oh God, so he’s been up there? The entire time? Dead?” Alex was grateful the cream he used in his coffee was nondairy, or he was sure it would have curdled in his stomach at the thought. “Oh my God!”

  “See, Shandan opens later than you do, and for some reason, he thought the two of you were on the same schedule. He’d just gotten Rafferty pushed out of the space when you pulled up. He didn’t have time to retrieve Rafferty’s body. Hell, he barely had enough time to get out of your ceiling space before you got the door open.”

  “Shit, he was there when I was throwing up in the bushes,” Alex murmured. “It didn’t even dawn on me he was there early. He never opens up early.”

  “So there you have it. Once we ID’d Rafferty, it was a quick walk to motive and then to Shandan. We showed up to ask him about Rafferty’s disappearance, and he stonewalled us. That’s a bigger red flag than some rich kid selling comic books in a strip mall.” Castillo winked at Alex’s scoffing laugh. “See, and now comes the difficult part, because when I started this investigation, I was planning on doing one thing when we got it all wrapped up, but now I don’t know if I can.”

  “What? What one thing?” He studied the detective lounging back in the nearby couch. “You found the guy who did this… even if it’s Mr. Shandan. Hell, he’s been there for years. I can’t believe it. What’s there left to do?”

  “Just one matter I wanted to deal with, but it’s all dependent on you,” Castillo replied. “You’re kind of way above my pay grade now.”

  “Eh?” If confusion was edible, Alex had an entire mouthful and was choking on it. “I don’t understand.”

  “Would you like to go out with me?” Castillo leaned forward, his hands dangling between his spread knees. “I’ve been wondering how that mouth of yours tastes since the moment I laid eyes on you, and I’ve worked this case so hard to close it just so I could find out. So what do you say, Alex? Maybe dinner and a movie?”

  “WOW, YOU look incredible.” James stood outside of the Italian restaurant he’d suggested to Alex. It was a casual enough place to wear jeans to—something Alex looked relieved to discover—but with intimate tables and candlelight, a romantic kind of place meant to put the man at ease.

  And if anyone needed to be put at ease, it was Alex Martin.

  Dressed in dark jeans, light blue French-cuff shirt, and a black peacoat, Alex Martin was hitting all of James’s buttons. When the man dashed through the light Los Angeles rain to duck under the awning next to James, he lit up with a faint shy smile as he shook a scatter of drops from his thick, wavy mop.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Alex shot a dirty look up at the sky. “I don’t know why we Californians get crazy when there’s rain. Everyone on the road acts like it’s the apocalypse.”

  “Well, you know…. Death, War, Famine, and Precipitation,” James joked, pulling a full, sweet laugh from the other man. “You’re right on time.”

  Dinner was fun, if a bit perplexing at times. Alex seemed to have no clue about what a date entailed, and if James didn’t know better, he’d have thought the man was interrogating him for a case. Halfway through their entrée, Alex broke off a piece of bread from the basket between them and heavily dabbed it with Alfredo sauce. The sight of the man’s open mouth enveloping the white cream dollop made James think of much better things for Alex’s lips to be wrapped around.

  “I am very jealous of that piece of bread right now,” James said softly as Alex took a bite. “And maybe your fork. I like how you glide it in and out of your mouth as you take a bite of your food. Possibly the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Not for the first time in his life, James was very happy to know how to perform the Heimlich maneuver, although judging by the beet-red burn on Alex’s cheeks when he was done, James was fairly certain the other man would have preferred to expire on the spot.

  Even after he’d gotten the bread dislodged, James left his arms wrapped around Alex’s torso, his fists pressed into the hollow beneath the man’s breastbone. It was probably wrong to get hard when forcing a bit of bread out of a man’s windpipe, but James’s dick didn’t seem to care about propriety. It gleefully took the embrace of Alex’s buttcheeks, and James damped down his desire, choosing instead to rub at Alex’s bruised belly.

  “You okay there, babe?” James whispered softly amid the panic and chaos around them.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” Alex choked out. “Is that your sick idea of job security?”

  “I am so sorry, Alex.” He eased the man down into his seat, crouching by Alex’s knee. “I don’t normally kill on the first date. Usually it takes me at least until the third before I trot out the hard stuff.”

  “Don’t joke. It hurts to laugh.” Slinging his arm around his ribs, Alex winced in pain. “Oh God, you’re strong.”

  “Yeah, sorry,” James said ruefully. “Feel like finishing dinner?”

  “Hell, no.” Alex shook his head. “Can I get a rain check? I need ice cream or something. My throat feels like it’s on fire.”

  MRS. WHO met him at the door, her mottled form winding around Alex’s legs as he tried to get through the foyer. He tossed his keys onto the table near the front door, then picked up the tortoiseshell cat and carried her into the living room, collapsing onto the couch in front of a river-stone fireplace. The feline mewed and pushed her chin against his cheek, and Alex buried his face into the cat’s fur, breathing in deeply.

  “Ick, you smell like tuna,” he mutte
red, pulling the cat away. Mrs. Who meeped and wiggled down out of his grasp, settling on the couch to knead at a throw pillow. “Mrs. Who, I totally suck at this dating thing. He let me out and then sped off. I’d be surprised if I ever see him—”

  The doorbell chiming a hearty tone through the house interrupted Alex’s thoughts. Moving the cat out of the way, he passed through to the foyer and peered out of the door’s inset glass panel, sighing when he recognized Detective James Castillo standing on his front porch.

  Resting his forehead on the door, Alex called out, “Can you just let me die of embarrassment in peace? Or are you hoping you can watch me choke on my own tongue or something?”

  “You die of embarrassment? I’m the one who had to flee the villagers’ torches and pitchforks! Pretty sure they called me a witch for bringing you back to life!” Castillo answered through the door. “I promised you dessert.”

  “I spat up on you like a baby with colic!” he reminded the detective.

  “I brought you ice cream.” The enticement was a good one, and Alex sighed, seriously contemplating letting him in. Then James said, “It’s mint chocolate chip.”

  “Shit.” Alex opened the door and grabbed at the plastic Rite-Aid bag. “That’s like my kryptonite.”

  “Isn’t kryptonite bad for you?” James asked as he closed the door behind them. “If you point me toward the kitchen, I’ll grab a couple of spoons. I figured we could share a pint.”

  “No, I’m just going to open the container and shove my face in it. I hear wallowing’s good for depression.” Alex set the bag down and motioned to the cat. “Castillo, meet Mrs. Who. Mrs. Who, this is the man who tried to kill Daddy earlier. Try not to eat his face while I go get utensils.”

  James dug through Alex’s DVDs and found an old black-and-white sci-fi movie he’d never seen, and they ate enough of the ice cream that neither one of them wanted to see another chocolate chip for at least several days. When James nodded off on the end of the couch with Mrs. Who purring in his lap, Alex let the man sleep until the end of the movie, staring at James’s hand clasped over his.

  THEIR SECOND official date didn’t go much better. It came after spending more than a few nights together on Alex’s couch, eating takeout and watching movies. When James suggested they hit up the Santa Monica pier one night instead, Alex thought it would be fun to spend an evening eating bad food and walking with James out in the open.

  To be fair, Alex had to suppose James wasn’t expecting the clown’s rainbow wig to catch on fire, but it did, and things took a downturn when one of the boardwalk workers accused the detective of sabotaging the man’s act. Despite James’s smooth charm, they’d finally just made a run for it, scrambling to get to Alex’s Mini Cooper before escaping in a squeal of tires and laughter.

  “You could have just told them you were a cop,” Alex said between fits of laughter, slowing the Mini down when they hit the main street off the pier.

  “Yeah, but where would the fun be in that?” James chuckled, stretching out as much as he could in the passenger seat. “And I had nothing to do with the fire. Who the hell juggles flaming torches in the middle of a busy boardwalk?”

  They kissed on Alex’s doorstep that evening, a gentle, sweet kiss Alex could taste even after James pulled away and let him go. The man’s arms were around his waist, and Alex pressed his hands over James’s back, exploring the powerful muscles along his spine.

  “God, I hate that I have to leave you, but….” James cocked his head. “I’ve got court first thing in the morning, or I’d try to persuade you to let me stay.”

  “I’d let myself be persuaded,” Alex admitted and reluctantly let him go. “I’m kind of… overwhelmed, you know?”

  “Hey, I’m trying to take it slow. The wild Martin startles easily, I’m told, but God, I want you,” James said, brushing his mouth once more over Alex’s lips. “And if I don’t leave now, that slow thing ain’t going to happen. I’ll call you tomorrow, ’kay?”

  Tomorrow came, and so did the phone call, an early-morning growling purr of sexual innuendo and sweet promises.

  Then another dead body got in the way.

  WORK KEPT the detective busy for the next week, but they’d kept in touch with texts and late-night phone calls. Los Angeles seemed to be competing for a body count to equal a war zone, and James began to seriously wonder if he’d pissed off someone in heaven, because all he wanted was to spend some time with Alex—quality time, preferably naked and with lubricant.

  Hell, even just sitting with the man on the couch would have made him happy. That realization stopped James short in his tracks.

  “Holy shit, I’m falling in love with him,” James muttered, and Lois chuckled under her breath.

  “Castillo, you’ve been in love for the past two freaking weeks. From how you tell it, I’d be able to toss Alex out onto the ocean and he’d just stroll on back, walking across the waves with a piece of bread in one hand and a fish in the other.” His partner snorted. “You’ve only just now figured that out?”

  The late-afternoon call came in just as James debated if the department would forgive him when he shoved his partner out onto the open freeway at eighty miles per hour. They both exchanged a brief glance, and Lois reached for the mic.

  “We’ve got this, dispatch. ETA in ten,” she replied, rattling off their numbers. Cutting off the call, Lois glanced at her partner. “Looks like your boyfriend got another one.”

  “Well, shit. He might be able to walk on water, but I don’t think Alex can raise the dead.”

  Even with their lights and siren going, it took James twenty minutes to fight through downtown traffic. Dodging film crews and road closures, he argued himself in and out of calling Alex before Lois made the decision for him.

  “Look, we need him fresh on the scene, Castillo. In fact, when we get there, I’ll take his statement. You go see about anyone else around.”

  “Can I at least kiss him hello and tell him it’s going to be okay?”

  “Only if he doesn’t have blood on his hands, and even then, maybe I’ll let you. God, I hope I’m not this sappy with my husband.”

  “How many times has Raoul found a dead body?”

  “Other than headless rat corpses? None,” Lois admitted. “But your guy seems to have set the bar. He might feel like he has to compete.”

  Planet X looked like it’d been invaded by extras from a movie. Costumed people mingled with a growing crowd of police officers, and James’s mind strained to take it all in. Most of the outfits appeared to be Victorian-ish, but a few were leaning more toward a spaghetti-western slant. Spurs jingled alongside rattling pocket-watch chains, and there were curious contraptions of antiqued metal, lenses, and gears strapped to arms, legs, and in some cases, heads. Lois couldn’t help but stare as they pulled into the parking lot, and James drove slowly through the crowd, forcibly parting the mass with the front of the sedan before one of the uniforms shooed people to the side.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Lois muttered as she got out of the car. “It looks like crazy town.”

  “Let’s find Alex.” James scanned the crowd, but the sheer glut of top hats and mantillas made it difficult to see over to the shop. “Come on.”

  “Jesus, look at what they’re wearing!” his partner hissed behind him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if our DB died of heat exhaustion… or embarrassment. Are those girls’ boobs coming out of that thing? What the hell is wrong with these people?”

  He found Alex alone in the store—if being with five police officers could be counted as alone. The store floor’d been cleared in the middle, and long tables were set up with snacks and tanks of soft drinks and water. The walls and ceiling were decorated with black streamers, Tesla globes, and odd creatures, a creepy combination of science fiction and horror.

  But the star of the event was the seven-foot-tall rubber tentacle monster with two stiff legs poking out of the bottom. Slumped up against the wall between the break room and the
toilet, it seemed to be what kept the uniforms occupied.

  Alex spotted James and left the conclave of blue, heading over to the door. Many of the uniforms looked guiltily at the detectives and one by one mumbled something, then headed out. The last one opened her mouth but then shook her head, exiting without an excuse.

  Smiling briefly at Lois, Alex reached for James but stopped short of touching him. “Hey, I’m glad it’s you.”

  “Need a hug, babe?” James asked softly, then wrapped his arms around Alex, giving him a quick, firm embrace. Letting go, he stepped back and nodded to his partner. “This is Detective Lois Washington, my partner. She’s going to take your statement.”

  “Tell me what happened.” Lois took out a notepad and clicked her pen. “And what the hell is going on outside?”

  “We’re having a Lovecraft day.” Alex sighed when the two cops stared at him. “Just… never mind. Anyway, it’s an event. Prizes, food—you know, that kind of thing. I hired this guy to be one of the Elder Gods—”

  “Would that be the tentacle thing over there?” Lois pointed with her pen. “What is that? Latex?”

  “A combination of things. It’s a costume worn by—okay, that doesn’t matter, but it’s been worn before.” Alex shook his head. “This time, something seems to have gone wrong. And don’t say the guy was allergic to seafood. I already got that crap from the first two cops who showed up.”

  Lois approached the dead man encased in the rubbery suit, peering through the bulbous eyeball set into the monster’s upper body. “Did you try it on?”

  “Yeah, we all did,” Alex admitted. “Most of the staff, anyway.”

  “Okay, let’s run down what he ate and drank, and then we’ll work through the witnesses. Castillo, kiss the boyfriend good-bye and see if we can’t find someone in this mess who was talking to the guy or something when he went down. They might be able to give us some clue about what happened before tox comes in sometime next year.”