Dying to Play

by Mark Zubro

  “Once you were on the property, how’d you guys find me?”

  “Once we knew you were here, we turned Caesar loose. That’s what basset hounds do, sniff and search. You were unconscious a few hours.”

  I scratched the dog behind his drooping ears. “And then Hopper needed to brag and explain before he killed me.”

  Jerry nodded. “So we had time.”

  DEA agents, ICE, state cops, even the FBI put in an appearance. Turns out there were two sub-basements under where I’d been held where the illegal drugs were manufactured. All had been rigged to blow up.

  The key to the whole thing was Czobel’s phone and flash drives. The phone had his entire drunken interview with Skeen in which the ball player named names and gave details. We turned over copies to as many people as we could think of.

  SUNDAY 11:00 A.M.

  I spent most of Sunday morning and into the early afternoon talking to cops and officials from various agencies. I was exhausted.

  Between bouts with cops, I had time to meet Knecht for a late breakfast at Millie’s to discuss the outcome. I told him, “It’s going to take a while for all that drug stuff to be sorted out. They’re still doing chemical analyses. And exactly which federal and state laws or regulations were broken isn’t clear.”

  Knecht said, “Selling stuff that doesn’t do what it says must be illegal.”

  “It was a big deal drug cover-up conspiracy that escalated with death and destruction. Everyone on that bus could have died. Look at the studies that say all kinds of popular products have little or no effect. Doesn’t stop them from being sold. Hopper is a manufacturer, distributor, and conspirator, or co-conspirator in murder at the least. He may have had other people do the actual shooting or the injecting of drugs. Either way it doesn’t look good for him. He’ll be in jail for a long time. What combination of the other people involved will go to jail, I’m not sure.”

  SUNDAY 1:17 P.M.

  Knecht told me a lot of the guys were meeting at the workout room in the stadium. I wanted to stop by to say goodbye. I hadn’t known them long, but we’d been through the bus crash, horror and hell. Most likely I’d never see them again, but you don’t just leave after sharing something such as we’d gone through. All the guys were staying with the team. Their season would resume Tuesday. Careers would go on, a few would take a while to recover from the crash, their dreams of a big league career would work their tentacles into their lives.

  A few exercised, most gathered in clumps and talked in low voices.

  Saldovi’s career was over. Smith had been fired. That would probably be the least of their troubles. The strongest player reactions were being pissed about possibly dying, mystified that people would be involved in this convoluted conspiracy, and feeling foolish for taking drugs that didn’t enhance their performance.

  I got congratulated on solving the case and thanked for helping to save lives.

  On the way out after saying my goodbyes, I heard Dowley saying to McDaniels, “All our wives talked. They’ve got some big deal plan for the memorial service for Henry tomorrow.”

  “Your wife coming?”

  “She’s meeting up with Donny’s wife in Chicago and they’re driving up from there.”

  Married.

  “All the wives?”

  “All that I know of. Donny’s wife, Irma, can you imagine a name like Irma? But she’s great. They’ve got a kid’s gonna have a birthday in a few weeks. Gonna be three.”

  A kid.

  I was pissed.

  SUNDAY 2:42 P.M.

  I hadn’t slept. I was totally bushed. Back in the bed and breakfast Duncan handed me his cell phone. He said, “Did you see this interview with Murray?”

  I shook my head. He pressed an app. It was Murray on a national talking head show. He must have been sitting on several phone books or the other guy was just as short as him. Murray was saying, “I’ve been talking with several publishers bidding for the inside story on what happened in Butterfield.”

  The other guy spoke in a breathless whisper. “And tell us. What did happen? What’s the inside story?” I turned it off.

  Duncan said, “I heard Murray’s gotten a couple of job offers in big cities.”

  “Good for him.”

  He pointed to a manila file folder on his desk. “Then there’s this. It’s a background check you need.”

  “For what? This case is over.” I didn’t remember any other case we had on hand which required a background check. I opened the folder. I recognized our standard form. The name at the top of the first sheet was Donny Campbell.

  “What is this?”

  “Thought you might want it.”

  “I didn’t authorize this.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  I read the first page and scanned the second. I looked up. Duncan had left the room and closed the door. The report had an unfortunate number of details on Campbell’s ordinary life, but it confirmed what I’d just learned.

  I caught a couple hours sleep late in the afternoon. A little after six Georgia and I sat in the room we’d been using as an office. Her taupe chiffon wrap enshrouded a 1950’s Christian Dior knockoff. She said, “So you made it with a dead guy and a married guy. That’s about average for you.”

  “He wasn’t dead when I made it with him. I’ve never made it with a dead guy.”

  “They just kind of flop over when you’re done with them.”

  “If they’re lucky.”

  Duncan entered and said, “I think they must have arrested about half the town this afternoon.”

  Georgia raised an eyebrow. “Half?”

  “Hopper and Rotella for sure. Their underlings are blabbing and every once in a while some local, state, or federal agency will walk someone away in handcuffs. It’s going to take a while to sort out.”

  “Did we get our fee?”

  Duncan said, “I made the switch electronically this morning. He gave us a bonus. A hundred thousand dollars.”

  “I feel a bit better about Connor Knecht,” Georgia said. She tapped my shoulder lightly. “But you look awful.” She looked thoughtful. “I know you. You feel guilt about someone you slept with dying.”

  Jerry’s arrival interrupted Georgia’s observations. He wore leather pants that were molded to his taut hips and muscled legs. He wore a black gauze shirt. He looked at me and said, “You fell in love again.”

  Georgia glanced from him to me. “He always falls in love on a case, and it never works out.”

  “Not always, and I wasn’t in love.”

  Georgia sighed, “My dear, my dear, I am the wisest drag queen you know. I can see all the signs. They all break your heart. You vow never to fall in love again, and you always do. And don’t say this one was different.” She pointed a freshly manicured finger at me. “Two disastrous relationships on one case. That’s a record for you.”

  Jerry said, “Only one died. So does that mean he’s ahead or behind?”

  “Depends on whether the other guys were tops or bottoms.”

  Jerry had a report from the DEA, Georgia one from ICE. Rotten people were going to jail and with luck the undocumented who were caught would, at the least, have excellent representation.

  SUNDAY 9:44 P.M.

  Later that evening I sat in a rocking chair on the porch of the bed-and-breakfast with Caesar at my feet. I would return to Chicago in the morning. If I tried to drive back now, I figured I’d fall asleep at the wheel.

  Campbell drove up. He got out of his car. He had a big grin on his face, flowers in one hand, and a box of chocolates in the other. I stood up and let the rocking chair ease to a stop. The night was close and humid, the shade of the porch as cool as any without air-conditioning.

  Caesar barked deep in his throat. He waited back for permission to approach the stranger. I didn’t give it.

  “You solved it,” Campbell said. He bounced up onto the porch and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “Congratulations.”

  At my unresp
onsiveness he leaned back and let his eyes search mine. Packages still in his hands, he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Your wife and kids in Illinois.”

  “Oh.” Significant pause. “I can explain.”

  “Please don’t.”

  The chocolates and flowers looked absurd in his hands. Bringing chocolates and flowers to a significant other is a good thing. What to do with them when disaster strikes is quite another.

  He said, “I should have told you.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I love you.”

  “And a kid.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You keep saying that. What do you say to your wife and kid about the fact that you screw guys?”

  “I love them.” He hung his head. “I wish I could say something to make this better.”

  “I can’t think of anything.”

  He didn’t meet my eyes. He muttered, “I think I better leave.”

  I didn’t answer. I didn’t stop him. He took his chocolate and flowers with him.

  I sat back in the rocker and rocked and watched the stars twirl over the quiet small town street. Caesar snuffled his head into my lap. I scratched his ears. Maybe he could teach me to bay at the moon.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Mark Zubro is the author of thirty novels and five short stories. His book A Simple Suburban Murder won the Lambda Literary Award for Best Gay Men’s mystery. A Conspiracy of Fear, his latest book in his Tom and Scott series is just out. His second book in his young adult series, Hope, is due out this winter. His third book in his gay sci fi adventure/romance, Alien Victory, is due out this spring. He spends his time reading, writing, napping, and eating chocolate.

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  RAINBOW ROMANCE WRITERS

  Raising the Bar for LGBT Romance

  RRW offers support and advocacy to career-focused authors, expanding the horizons of romance. Changing minds, one heart at a time. www.rainbowromancewriters.com

  THE TREVOR PROJECT

  The Trevor Project operates the only nationwide, around-the-clock crisis and suicide prevention helpline for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and questioning youth. Every day, The Trevor Project saves lives though its free and confidential helpline, its website and its educational services. If you or a friend are feeling lost, alone, confused or in crisis, please call The Trevor Helpline. You’ll be able to speak confidentially with a trained counselor 24/7.

  The Trevor Helpline: 866-488-7386

  On the Web: http://www.thetrevorproject.org/

  THE GAY MEN’S DOMESTIC VIOLENCE PROJECT

  Founded in 1994, The Gay Men’s Domestic Violence Project is a grassroots, non-profit organization founded by a gay male survivor of domestic violence and developed through the strength, contributions and participation of the community. The Gay Men’s Domestic Violence Project supports victims and survivors through education, advocacy and direct services. Understanding that the serious public health issue of domestic violence is not gender specific, we serve men in relationships with men, regardless of how they identify, and stand ready to assist them in navigating through abusive relationships.

  GMDVP Helpline: 800.832.1901

  On the Web: http://gmdvp.org/

  THE GAY & LESBIAN ALLIANCE AGAINST DEFAMATION/GLAAD EN ESPAÑOL

  The Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) is dedicated to promoting and ensuring fair, accurate and inclusive representation of people and events in the media as a means of eliminating homophobia and discrimination based on gender identity and sexual orientation.

  On the Web: http://www.glaad.org/

  GLAAD en español: http://www.glaad.org/espanol/bienvenido.php

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  Servicemembers Legal Defense Network is a nonpartisan, nonprofit, legal services, watchdog and policy organization dedicated to ending discrimination against and harassment of military personnel affected by “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT).The SLDN provides free, confidential legal services to all those impacted by DADT and related discrimination. Since 1993, its inhouse legal team has responded to more than 9,000 requests for assistance. In Congress, it leads the fight to repeal DADT and replace it with a law that ensures equal treatment for every servicemember, regardless of sexual orientation. In the courts, it works to challenge the constitutionality of DADT.

  SLDNCall: 800-538-7418

  PO Box 65301or (202) 328-FAIR

  Washington DC 20035-5301 e-mail: sldn@sldn.org

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  THE GLBT NATIONAL HELP CENTER

  The GLBT National Help Center is a nonprofit, tax-exempt organization that is dedicated to meeting the needs of the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender community and those questioning their sexual orientation and gender identity. It is an outgrowth of the Gay & Lesbian National Hotline, which began in 1996 and now is a primary program of The GLBT National Help Center. It offers several different programs including two national hotlines that help members of the GLBT community talk about the important issues that they are facing in their lives. It helps end the isolation that many people feel, by providing a safe environment on the phone or via the internet to discuss issues that people can’t talk about anywhere else. The GLBT National Help Center also helps other organizations build the infrastructure they need to provide strong support to our community at the local level.

  National Hotline: 1-888-THE-GLNH (1-888-843-4564)

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>   On the Web: http://www.glnh.org/

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  If you’re a GLBT and questioning student heading off to university, you should know that there are resources on campus for you. Here’s just a sample:

  GLBT SCHOLARSHIP RESOURCES

  http://www.hrc.org/resources/entry/tell-us-about-an-lgbt-scholarship

  Syracuse University

  http://lgbt.syr.edu/

  Texas A&M

  http://glbt.tamu.edu/

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  http://tulane.edu/studentaffairs/oma/lgbt/index.cfm

  University of Alaskahttp://www.uaf.edu/woodcenter/leadership/organizations/active/index.xml?id=61

  University of California, Davis

  http://lgbtrc.ucdavis.edu/

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  http://www.sa.utah.edu/lgbt/

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  http://www.virginia.edu/deanofstudents/lgbt/

  Vanderbilt University

  http://www.vanderbilt.edu/lgbtqi/