“So, no specifics as to how it might be done?”
“No.”
I sighed. “Look, guys, I’m not trying to drag out the rubber hose here, but I know damned well I’m not asking anything the cops won’t ask. I’m between a rock and a hard place here. They called me in to ask if I had any thoughts about who might have done it. I’ve developed a good relationship with the police over the years, and I don’t want to jeopardize it. They wanted specific names of guys who might have had a grudge against Hysong, and the only actual names I could think of other than Carl Brewer were yours—and I wasn’t about to tell them that.”
“Well, thanks for that,” Jared said. “And we appreciate your telling us all this. But you don’t have to protect us. We’ve got an alibi if we need one. We went up to my cabin over the weekend and didn’t get back until late Monday.”
“Well, I sure hope it doesn’t reach the point where you’d need an alibi,” I said. I didn’t want to muddy the waters by asking how they had both gotten off work on Monday. Sometimes, being a P.I. sucks.
“Oh, one last thing,” I said. “Hysong was killed with what they think was a hunting rifle like yours.”
“What do you mean, like mine?” Jake asked.
“They think it was a Winchester Model 94.”
“Well, it sure wasn’t mine.”
“Of course not,” I said. “But the thing is, the police will quite probably be checking to see if anyone from the Male Call has one, so be prepared.”
Chapter 14
Thursday passed without incident. I was, of course, curious about how the police investigation was going, but while under other circumstances I may have been tempted to call Marty Gresham to ask him, I didn’t want to even consider it now. The further I kept away from things, the better.
I was just getting ready to walk out the door for work on Friday when the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Dick, it’s Jake. We’ve got a really big problem.”
Shit!
“What’s wrong?” Stupid question.
“The police just left. They showed up with a search warrant for my gun.”
I was a little surprised but tried to offer some reassurance. “I told you they might ask you if you had a hunting rifle. But that they’d have a search warrant is a little extreme, I’d think.”
“That’s not the problem! When I went to get it for them, it was gone!”
“Gone?” I echoed, immediately feeling stupid for doing so. “When’s the last time you saw it?” I also immediately thought of the meeting they’d had with the other guys from the Male Call.
“The last time I saw it was when I put it under the bed right after I bought it. I didn’t have any need to take it out until hunting season.” He paused, then, “I should have looked for it when you told me about it on the phone. I at least could have reported it stolen before the police showed up looking for it.
“And what’s worse, if that’s possible, is that the warrant wasn’t just for a Winchester hunting rifle. It was specifically for a Model 94 Chief Crazy Horse Commemorative. They’re a limited issue.”
“Chief Crazy Horse?” I asked. “Why in the world would you want a Chief Crazy Horse Commemorative rifle?”
“Winchester does commemoratives all the time,” he explained. “When Stan and I were kids, we always played cowboys and Indians, and Stan always insisted on being Chief Crazy Horse and me being General Custer. I know they didn’t have anything to do with each other in fact, but you know how kids’ minds work.
“We had been talking about buying new rifles this year anyway, and when Stan heard about this particular commemorative, he insisted we get it. How could the police have known I even had one?”
Good question. Obviously the police had been doing their job.
“I’d imagine they tested the bullet taken from Hysong’s body and that it came from a Winchester 94,” I said. “You said it was a pretty new model—apparently, they were able to pin the spent bullet down to the exact model that fired it. They undoubtedly checked the gun shops and dealers for a list of people who’d recently bought one.
“They’ll undoubtedly be checking with Stan, too,” I added.
“Oh, that’ll go over big!” Jake said. “After all the battles Stan has had with the bureaucracy dragging their feet on the AIDS problem, he doesn’t look kindly on authority figures. But even so, with my gun missing, I’ve got a pretty good idea who the police will move up to the top of their suspect list.”
I did, too, but didn’t say so.
“Well, there’s no point wasting your time worrying about that right now,” I said. “Did you tell the police about the guys from the Male Call being over?”
“No. I couldn’t see any point to dragging them into it, since for all I know the gun might very well have been gone before they were even here. These guys talk tough, but I can’t imagine that any of them could actually steal the gun, let alone use it!”
“But they knew you had it,” I pointed out.
“Well, yeah. The weekend I got it, we were at the Male Call, and I know I was talking about it then. It’s sort of like getting a new car. Okay, so I was doing the old ‘mine’s bigger than yours’ thing. Hey, how many people do you know with a Chief Crazy Horse Commemorative Winchester 94?”
“And you never had any indication that someone had broken into your apartment?”
“Not a clue, but…” He paused, then, “Jeezus, how stupid can I be? I sometimes leave the kitchen window open a crack. Somebody could have gotten in that way—but there’s never been any trouble in my building, and I’ve never even heard of a break-in anywhere in the neighborhood.”
“Jared was there when the cops were?”
“Yeah, but he had to leave for Carrington in time to make it to school. They seemed a little reluctant to let him go, and they fingerprinted us both before he left, which I thought was kind of strange.”
I did, too, but again didn’t say anything.
“They didn’t say so,” Jake continued, “but I imagine they think Jared has the gun at his place, and I’ll bet the minute they left here they called the Carrington police to get a search warrant. They won’t find it, of course, but I guess I can understand their thinking. Of all the rotten luck!” He paused for a moment and then said, “I was wondering if maybe you could do us a huge favor and check with your police contacts to see what’s going on. We didn’t mention that we knew you, by the way.”
Well, now that the police were aware—and I was afraid that was a gross understatement—of Jake and Jared, I at least didn’t have to avoid using their names.
“I can do that,” I said. “But tell me what else they said or asked you.’
“They wanted to know if we knew Cal, and of course, we said yes. It would be stupid to deny it. Then they asked if either Jared or I had a grudge against him. I told them that, of course, we did—Cal was murdering gay men. They wanted to know if there might be any other reason, and I told them as far as I was concerned, the reason I gave them was reason enough.
“Then they asked if either one of us had AIDS. I told them to check with our doctor.
“I know they thought we were giving them the runaround, but tough! If we’d given them a direct answer that, coupled with the fact my gun’s the same kind that shot Cal, we wouldn’t stand a chance. We’re not about to hand them our heads on a silver tray. If they want us, they’re going to have to get us without our help.”
“Look,” I said, “just try to take it easy. Let me know if you hear anything else from anyone, and I’ll do the same. If you have a chance to call me tonight when Jared gets back, please do. I want to know what happened on the Carrington end.”
“Okay. And thanks. Hi to Jonathan and Joshua.”
*
I had no sooner walked into the office and filled the coffeepot with water when there was a knock on my door. Through the opaque glass, I saw two silhouettes. I didn’t have to see them clearly to know who they were.
“Come on in,” I called, and the door opened to reveal Detectives Carpenter and Gresham.
Marty, being the last in, closed the door behind him.
“Detectives,” I said. “This is a surprise. Sit down, please.”
From the looks on their faces, I knew this wasn’t a social call.
“Would you like some coffee?” I asked as they sat. “I was just going to make some.”
“No, thanks,” Carpenter said.
I replaced the pot on the coffeemaker and went to my desk to sit down.
“We talked to your friends Jake Jacobson and Jared Martinson this morning,” Marty said.
A most telling choice of words, I thought, especially since Jake had specifically said they hadn’t mentioned my name and I definitely had not mentioned theirs.
“We saw your photo in Jacobson’s apartment,” Carpenter, apparently reading my mind, explained.
Shit! I’d forgotten that photo.
“Nice looking kid,” he added.
I assumed he meant Joshua rather than Jonathan, but I merely said, “Thanks.”
“Why didn’t you mention Martinson and Jacobson when we asked you about the Male Call?” he continued.
They had me.
“Well, I don’t consider them Male Call regulars, which was what you asked me for,” I said. “I know that sounds like an evasion and I guess it is, but these guys are my friends. I didn’t want to drag them into something I know they had nothing whatever to do with.”
“So, you’d call having the same kind of gun as shot Cal Hysong off a twelve-story building nothing?” Carpenter asked.
“Was it the same gun?” I asked. I didn’t want to let them know I’d talked to Jake.
“Well, that’s another interesting point—we don’t know. Jacobson claims his gun was stolen. Pretty convenient, I’d say.”
“Not if it’s true,” I said. “And if Jake says it was stolen, it was stolen.”
“Did you know Martinson had a run-in with Hysong shortly before he was killed?”
How in hell could they have known that? I then realized they’d been doing their job on background checks on the Male Call and what went on there.
“Yeah, Jared mentioned it,” I said.
“And you knew this wasn’t their first encounter? That Martinson was arrested after a fight with Hysong at the Male Call a couple years ago?”
“Yes, and you probably know I was the one who bailed him out. And you forgot to mention that half the bar was involved in that melee, not just Jared.”
“Do they have AIDS?” Carpenter asked.
Oh, Jeezus, how do I get around this one?
“Nice non sequitur,” I observed. “You’ll have to ask them. I’m not a doctor. You saw them. Did they look sick to you?”
“The evasion game’s wearing pretty thin,” Carpenter said.
“Do either of you guys have any idea what AIDS is doing to the gay community?” I asked. “Nobody knows who’s got it and who doesn’t. You’re healthy one day, and you’re dead the next. Our acquaintances and friends and partners are dying all around us, and no one knows for sure how or why or when it will be our turn. It’s scary as hell. The straight world, and too many gays, treat AIDS like leprosy—people hear you have it and they run in the other direction. Did you know some doctors and nurses—and hospitals—won’t treat you if they even think you have it? So, am I going to point to someone and say ‘He’s got AIDS?’ Not likely!”
Marty’s face reflected his empathy. “Look, Dick, I do understand. But having AIDS is also not a justification for murder.”
“Of course not,” I agreed. “But as I said, I know these guys, and it is inconceivable to me that either of them could be capable of killing anyone.”
I believed that. I really did. But in some far corner of my mind something shameful lurked—could I kill someone who deliberately gave me AIDS? I would sincerely like to think not. Could I kill someone who deliberately gave Jonathan AIDS? In a heartbeat.
“Well, loyalty to friends is an admirable trait,” Carpenter said, “but we can’t afford that luxury in a murder investigation. We’ve asked the Carrington police to get a search warrant for Jared Martinson’s home. If Jacobson owns the same make and model gun as killed Hysong and it isn’t at his place, the next logical place to look is Martinson’s.”
“You’re wasting your time,” I said. “As I said, if Jake says the gun was stolen, it was stolen.”
Carpenter gave a small smile. “Perhaps. But some coincidences are easier to go along with than others.”
“You know Jacobson’s brother is an immunologist working with AIDS patients?” Marty asked.
“Yeah, I know that. And if he was an obstetrician that wouldn’t mean Jake or Jared was pregnant.”
“We asked him for a list of his AIDS patients, and he wouldn’t give it to us.”
“Like you expected him to?” I said. “You knew damned well he wouldn’t, and no other doctor or hospital would, either.”
“It would make our jobs a lot easier,” Marty observed, “We might be able to track some of the cases back to Hysong and broaden our suspect base. This is a murder case, after all.”
When he said “broaden our suspect base” I knew “beyond Jared and Jake” was implied, but there was nothing I could say or do about it.
“I don’t suppose you know anything else about either Martinson or Jacobson you’d care to tell us?” Carpenter asked.
Jeezus!
“Like what?” I asked. “Look, guys, you know I’ve always done everything I can to work with the police. I want you to catch whoever killed Hysong, and I know you will. Believe me, if I thought for one second Jake or Jared might have been involved and I knew something that might prove it, I’d tell you. But please don’t put me in the position of trying to dig up dirt on my friends when I know they’re innocent.”