Mind Games

by Claude Bouchard

  “Sure thing, Captain,” Tony agreed, nodding to an assistant who waited with a body bag. “I’ll get on this as soon as we get in. I should be able to get back to you sometime this afternoon, at least with a preliminary report.”

  “Good. Thanks, Tony,” replied McCall, surveying the bloodied walls around him one last time. “The sooner we get a handle on this, the sooner we can stop this lunatic.”

  He returned to the kitchen where he found Frank once again seated with the boyfriend. The young man seemed calmer now, had stopped crying and was no longer trembling. An open bottle of scotch and a half empty glass before him no doubt had contributed to his steadied state.

  “Steve, this is my boss, Captain McCall,” introduced Frank as Dave joined them. “The Captain would like to ask you a few questions if you feel up to it.”

  “S-sure, no problem,” the boyfriend quavered, fighting back the tears which welled up again.

  “Take it easy, son,” McCall gently consoled, patting the young man’s arm. “I know this is not easy for you.”

  “I’m all right,” Steve responded bravely, his voice a bit stronger. “I’ve gone through tough times before. I’ll get through this one too.”

  “Attaboy,” encouraged Dave, wondering if he’d read about the kid’s suicide in the morning paper. “Now, I’d like to ask you a few questions. Is that all right?”

  Steve nodded in response and McCall pursued.

  “Good. Now, Detective Bakes may have already asked you some of these questions but I’d like you to answer them anyway. Sometimes, especially when we’re troubled, we forget some details when we answer questions. Maybe you’ll remember something new the second time around.”

  Again the young man nodded and the captain went on.

  “I understand you were at work last night?”

  “Yes sir, the eight to four shift.” Steve volunteered.

  “We’ll be verifying that but I don’t want you to worry,” McCall informed him. “We have to cover all bases.”

  “That’s OK, I understand. Detective Bakes explained that to me and I gave him the name of my employer and of my supervisor. You’ll see. I was there.”

  “I’m sure you were, Steve,” reassured Dave. “Is that your regular shift?”

  “Yeah, for two months now,” the kid replied, a touch of frustration in his voice. “I don’t like it but I have the least seniority there. I had no choice.”

  “What about Ed?” asked McCall. “Where did he work?”

  “Ed is, uh, was an accountant for TecSol Industries,” Steve responded. The tone remained bitter. “He had a day job.”

  “What’s wrong, Steve?” Dave gently prodded. “Were the different shifts causing a problem?”

  Tears welled again as he nodded. “Yeah. Ed didn’t like it at all and we were fighting about it all the time. He complained that I was never around anymore and that he needed somebody to share his life with. Then he started going to TJ’s, a cruising bar around the corner.”

  “Was Ed cheating on you, Steve?” the captain enquired softly.

  “I’m not sure but I think so,” the kid whispered as tears rolled down his cheeks. “I think maybe Ed picked up a guy once in a while and brought him back here.”

  “Why do you think that?” McCall asked.

  “Little things,” Steve responded, trying to control his sobs. “I found a box of condoms in his dresser, which we didn’t use. A few times lately, the phone would ring and when I answered, the caller hung up. Then about two weeks ago, I called Ed during my break and I’m sure I heard someone giggling in the background.”

  “Did you ask him about any of this?” queried Dave.

  “Yeah, and he denied it. He said the condoms were a door prize from TJ’s and the giggling must have been the TV.” Steve broke into another sobbing bout as he continued his response. “Then he told me that if I didn’t become more available soon, he just might consider bringing an occasional friend over to satisfy his needs.”

  The two detectives watched in silence as the distraught young man broke down again, weeping profusely in a vain attempt to shed his anguish.

  After a moment, his sobbing slowed and McCall continued his questioning.

  “Can you think of anybody who might have done this to Ed? Did he have any enemies?”

  Steve shook his head in response, breathing deeply to regain his composure.

  “Anyone he owed money to?” Dave gently persisted. “A jealous ex-boyfriend, maybe? Is there anything you can think of that might help us find who did this?”

  “No,” whispered Steve. “There’s nothing like that that I’m aware of.”

  “How long had you and Ed been together?” enquired McCall.

  “Just over two years,” the kid replied, his voice steadying once again.

  “And you’re sure you had nothing to do with this?”

  “Captain, are you married?” Steve demanded with fire in his eyes.

  “Yes, Steve. I am.”

  “Do you love your wife?”

  “Very much, Steve,” Dave responded. “She’s what I live for.”

  “So you wouldn’t kill her, right? I did not kill Ed.”

  “I understand, son,” Dave quietly replied. “We just have to check all the angles. We’ll leave you alone now and let you get some rest. Are you going to be all right?”

  “Yeah,” Steve bravely stated. “I’ve got an old friend I can lean on that I called earlier. She’s going to pick me up any minute now.”

  “Good,” said Dave as he and Frank rose from their seats. “Here’s my card, Steve. If you think of anything that might be helpful, call.”

  “Sure thing, Captain,” the young man replied morosely. “I’ll let you know.”

  * * * *

  “Good afternoon, Dr. Jenkins office.”

  “Afternoon, Marie. Dave McCall. How are you?”

  “I’m fine, Captain,” replied Jenkin’s secretary. “I guess you aren’t doing so well. I saw you on the news this morning.”

  “Yeah, well the job’s not too pleasant, but at least I get to be on television,” joked McCall. “Is the fine Doctor in?”

  “She’s with a couple of colleagues reviewing files but I’ll see if she can take the call.”

  While Dave waited, hardly aware of the music from a local rock station coming through the phone, he reviewed the morning’s events in his mind. Bakes had already verified with the kid’s employer and, as expected, Steve had been at work for his complete shift. The lab boys had estimated that the victim had succumbed to his wounds around midnight, give or take an hour, which made the boyfriend an unlikely suspect unless he had hired someone to do it. This, Dave doubted. He had seen the kid that morning and was certain that the pain demonstrated was real.

  Without evidence to the contrary, he wouldn’t rule out Steve’s possible involvement just as he wouldn’t rule out any other suspect which eventually came to light. However, in his heart, Dave knew what they were dealing with. This was number five. Their killer had struck again.

  Killer. He smiled as he realized how intent he was that one person was responsible for these crimes. No, Dr. Bowman had not swayed him, not in the least. Though it was a fact that the psychiatrist was a specialist in his field, the same also held true with Captain Dave McCall. After all, he hadn’t made it where he was today, at the ripe old age of thirty-two, by luck.

  “Hi, Dave. Sorry to keep you waiting,” apologized Barbara Jenkins over the phone.

  “No, problem,” replied McCall. “It gave me a chance to do nothing for a minute all while looking busy and pensive.”

  “Well, don’t you seem in a chipper mood considering how your day started,” commented Jenkins. “Did you break the case?” she added hopefully.

  “What are you trying to do, Doctor?” kidded Dave. “Bring my morale back down? No, seriously, we didn’t break the case although maybe, just maybe, we have a lead on where this last victim met his assailant.”

  “So you think
this one’s related to the others,” Jenkins stated, not asked.

  “I’m sure it is,” McCall replied. “It was just another case of déjà-vu. Different victim, different place, same everything else.”

  “You’ll send me the file on this,” said Barbara, another statement.

  “Yeah, that’s why I was calling,” responded the captain. “I just wanted to let you know so you could drop everything else to work for me.”

  “At least I’m forewarned,” laughed the psychiatrist. “When should I be expecting something?”

  “M.E.’s office promised to get a preliminary report done by this afternoon sometime. As soon as I have it, I’ll fax it to you.”

  “OK,” replied Jenkins. “I’m nearly done with this meeting and I had no other appointments scheduled so the timing’s right. Do you want me to transmit a copy to Bowman, Dave?”

  “Sure, let’s keep him in the loop,” suggested McCall. “I may not agree with him right now but I want to keep all the chances on our side. I’d kick myself if he turned out to be right in the end and I hadn’t even considered his opinion.”

  “Consider it done, Captain. I’ll call you as soon as I have something to tell you. Bye,” she said before hanging up the phone.

  * * * *

  “Afternoon. Can you get me a coke, lots of ice,” requested Bakes as he slid onto a barstool at TJ’s.

  “A customer!” the bartender lisped, raising his hands as he gazed upwards. “Thank-you Lord.”

  “Pretty quiet, huh,” Frank commented, scanning the place, empty save for a couple daintily playing a game of pool on a table towards the rear.

  “In the day, yes,” agreed the gay barkeep, admiring Bakes as he prepared his drink. “But come back this evening and you’ll see this place explode. I get off at ten tonight if you’re interested.”

  “Not,” replied Frank evenly, grinning at the proposition. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he laid his badge and I.D. on the bar for the man to see.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” lisped the bartender with a mischievous smile. “Some of my fondest memories were police officers.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart,” laughed Frank. “This time, you’ll have to settle for a dream.”

  “Your loss,” shrugged the homosexual, still a twinkle in his eye. As he returned his attention to polishing glasses, he added, “I guess that if you’re not here to pick me up, you must be here about Ed.”

  “What’s your name?” asked Frank.

  “Lonny,” replied the bartender, concentrating most of his attention on a particularly stubborn stain on one of his glasses.

  “What do you know about Ed, Lonny?” Bakes questioned.

  “Not much, I guess. Word’s out on the street about what happened to him.” Winking at Frank, he added, “We’re a pretty tight community so we keep each other informed.”

  “Did Ed come here a lot?” asked Frank.

  “Yeah, enough,” the gay replied, his tone nonchalant. “Ed was a regular, I guess.”

  “Was he here last night, Lonny?”

  “Last night? Let’s see?” the bartender contemplated, a perplexed look on his face as he continued to scrub the invisible spot on the glass.

  “Not quite sure if he was, Detective,” he finally replied with a smirk.

  “I’m not gonna screw around like this for very long,” warned Frank as he tossed two twenties and a ten on the bar.

  “Last night, Lonny. When was Ed here and who was he with?”

  Lonny gazed at the cash and then up at Bakes. Sighing, he pocketed the money as he muttered, “How’s a girl supposed to make a living? Yeah, Ed was here last night. Got here around 8:15, his usual time. Has to wait until his little boyfriend leaves for work before coming over. Otherwise, the bitch gets all excited.”

  “Did you see Ed with anybody last night?” insisted Frank. “This is important.”

  “Yeah, we’re probably getting into the real important stuff now,” Lonny agreed, pulling the fifty dollars out of his pocket and eyeing it with a dissatisfied look.

  “I’m warning you, friend,” growled Frank as he tossed another twenty-five on the bar. “Don’t push your luck. Your boss would probably be real pissed off if we closed this place down. You know, drugs on the premises, homosexual prostitution…”

  TJ’s, and its owner, had a reputation well known by the local authorities.

  “I understand he can be pretty nasty when he’s mad,” the detective continued. “It would be a shame if he found out his operation went under because his bartender was an uncooperative, greedy, little prick.”

  “OK, OK,” Lonny nervously exclaimed. “You don’t have to play dirty. I’m here to help you, you know.”

  “That’s right, Lonny,” replied Frank, “And so far, you ain’t doing it. Now would be a good time to start.”

  Looking back towards the couple by the pool table, the bartender leaned closer to Frank and reduced his lisp to a hush.

  “Like I said, Ed came in around 8:15 and cruised the place like he usually does. Just a bit before the end of my shift, around quarter to ten, this guy comes in and sits right here at the bar and orders a beer. Then he coasts off into space for a few minutes until Ed shows up and they get to talking. Maybe ten minutes later, I remember because my shift had just ended, they get up and leave together. Ed winked at me on the way out.”

  “Did you hear anything that they said?” queried Bakes.

  “Not really, at least not specifics,” replied Lonny. “When Ed first started talking to the guy, they got my attention a little because Ed had to speak to him a couple of times to get his attention. Like I said, the guy really seemed lost in his thoughts.”

  “On drugs, maybe?” suggested Frank.

  “I don’t think so,” the bartender disagreed. “When he ordered and then, when he was chatting with Ed, he seemed quite lucid.”

  “Anything you might have heard, Lonny?” Frank persisted. “You certainly haven’t given seventy-five bucks worth. Had you ever seen this guy before? Did they introduce themselves? Did you catch a name, maybe?”

  “I’d never seen the guy, that’s for sure,” replied Lonny, thinking. “Yeah, they said their names. Ed was apologizing for having bothered the guy and the guy asked him to stay. Let me think.”

  He grimaced in concentration for a moment and suddenly his expression brightened.

  “Bobby,” he murmured softly with a smile. “He said his name was Bobby.”

  “Good, Lonny. You’re starting to earn that money now. What did he look like?”

  “Good looking, actually,” Lonny dreamily responded. “Probably five-nine, five-ten. Muscular but not like a body-builder, you know. He had a nice body.”

  “Yeah, great, Lonny. Stop fantasizing,” snapped Frank. “This ‘hunk’ you’re talking about might be a killer. You could be dead right now if Ed hadn’t hit on him first.”

  “I guess you’re right,” admitted the bartender, becoming pensive and sombre. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Go on with your description,” Bakes urged. “Hair, eyes, clothes.”

  “Brown hair, a little wavy and longish. Sort of greased back. His eyes were brown, I guess, but I’m not sure. He was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt, both very tight. I figured that this guy probably didn’t want to grow old because he dressed like a twenty year old and he must have been close to forty.”

  “Anything else you remember?” asked Frank as he jotted a few notes down. “Anything particular that stood out? Scars, birthmarks, the way he talked?”

  “Nope,” Lonny replied, almost apologetically. “Unfortunately, nothing like that.”

  “Would you recognize him if you saw him again?” questioned Bakes as he stuffed his notepad into a jacket pocket. This interview was almost over.

  “Pretty sure that I would,” the bartender nodded.

  Frank hopped off the barstool and slid a card across to Lonny.

  “You turned out to be really helpful, Lonny. Can you g
ive me a call if the guy shows up or if you remember anything else?”

  “Sure thing, uh,” Lonny glanced down at the card, “Frank. Sorry if I was a bitch before. I know you’re just doing your job. If anything comes up, I’ll call for sure.”

  He hesitated for a moment then added with a grin, “And if you change your mind, don’t forget, I get off at ten tonight.”

  “Sorry, Lonny,” Frank grinned back. “You’re just too much of a man for me.”

  * * * *

  It was late afternoon and Harris, Nelson, Bakes and McCall were lounging in the captain’s office, brainstorming about the case, when the phone rang.

  “Homicide, McCall,” answered Dave after hitting the ‘hands free’ button.

  “Oh, good, you’re in,” said Barbara Jenkins’ voice through the speaker. “I have Sam Bowman on the other line and was hoping to conference with you.”

  “Great,” replied Dave. “I’m with Joanne, Frank and Tim and you’re on the speaker. Get the good doctor on the line and we can all get your impressions first hand.”

  “OK. Hang on a second and I’ll see if I can do this right,” said Barbara.

  A click was heard, followed by music as she put them on hold. After a few seconds, another click and Jenkins was back on the line.

  “Guys, can you hear me?”

  “Yup, we’re here,” Dave responded.

  “Doctor Bowman?” queried Barbara.

  “I can hear you both, Doctor Jenkins,” came Bowman’s pleasant voice over the speaker.

  “Then, we’re all set,” said Dave. “Good afternoon, Doctor Bowman.”

  “Afternoon, Captain. How are you?”

  “Fine, thanks. Doctor, I’ll just take a minute to introduce my team if you don’t mind.”

  Following a short exchange of greetings, Barbara moved on to the official subject at hand.

  “Doctor Bowman and I have both gone over the preliminary reports issued by yours and the M.E’s offices and we’d like to give you our thoughts. Doctor, do you want to go first?”

  “Well, before I express my opinion,” Bowman started, “I’d be interested in hearing what the police think, if that’s all right.”