Storm of Suspicion - 6. Chapter 6

As flight 837 touched down on the runway at Logan Airport in Boston, Michael began to fumble through his carry on bag for his cellphone. He could barely wait until getting off the plane before beginning to dial. “Why does it take so long to park this damned thing and for everyone to get off it?” he grumbled impatiently as passengers ahead of him had now begun to crowd the aisle retrieving items from the overhead compartments. “This is exactly why I don’t fly coach”, he thought to himself. As soon as he cleared the doorway of the plane, he frantically began scrolling through the contacts list to Nathan and hit dial. “Nate, I just landed in Boston, where you at?”

“I just came through the Callahan, 10 minutes away, United terminal?”, Nathan inquired.

“No, had to switch last minute. American. Didn’t have time to pack anything so just have a carry on. Meet me out front. Dying for a friggin smoke!”, Michael instructed.

Michael stood outside the terminal pacing as he waited for Nathaniel. He was a tall, imposing man about 50 with dark hair and graying at the temples. His ice blue eyes made a striking contrast to his flawless tanned skin and the cleft in his chin made him look like an old Hollywood silver screen movie star. He had been raised in a middle class family and achieved everything he had in life by working hard, including the Griffin. In his early 20’s, Michael had worked as a barback at the Griffin, and then a bartender, and eventually as one of the managers. Several years ago when the club looked to be in danger of closing, he had enlisted in the aid of several investors to buy out the business and keep it running. Michael stopped pacing as he heard the insistent honking of a car horn.

“Over here Michael”, a voice yelled from a forest green BMW. “Hurry up and get in, they don’t like people stopping here”, Nathan motioned as he quickly got back into the car. If Michael was the brains of the partnership, then Nathan was the bucks. He was hardly what anyone would imagine as being the owner of a gay bar, particularly a leather bar such as the Griffin. He appeared more like a straight-laced stuffy Harvard professor. Since his early 30’s his hair had turned completely white and his pale Irish completion had maintained a more youthful look although now well into his 50’s, the years were beginning to take their toll. He wore his hallmark tweed jacket, the kind with brown suede elbow patches. His tortoise shell glasses only added to the dorky factor. He, however, was not a force to be reckoned with in matters of finance. Many had jested that he could squeeze a dollar out of a penny. “Sorry it took so long to get here, I haven’t been to the airport since the last renovations and it seems they are still doing construction all the time”.

“No biggie,'' Michael responded. “I’m just glad to be back on the east coast, Seattle is starting to get old. But what the hell is going on in P-town? I saw on the TV at the airport something about a big fire?”

“Oh yeah, I heard something about that,'' Nathan replied as they sped onto 95 and headed south out of the city.

§

As Karla and Steven headed off toward the Pilgrim monument, Thom headed back to the Police station to try again to make Johanna’s funeral arrangements, or at least to claim the body. “It’s already beginning to get really grey outside,” Karla commented as they made their way up Bradford Street.

“Yeah, storm supposed to hit tonight, probably about the same time the tide comes in, gonna be a mess down on Commercial Street”, Steven announced.

“Hopefully whoever is at the parking lot saw if our guy just left and what he was driving. We should at least be able to find out who was working the gate when the killer came to town”, Karla declared.

§

As Thom entered the police station, Detective Wallace was at his desk, talking to someone on the phone, he motioned for Thom to come towards him then to sit down and wait. As he waited, Thoms’ mind began to drift wondering if the detective had found out anything new that could clear him of any suspicions or if they found anything that would clear Steven from the murder. He also thought about the cold dead drag queen lying downstairs in storage. “Poor Johanna…”

His Thoughts were interrupted by Wallace abruptly slamming down the phone receiver. For the next of what seemed an eternity, Wallace glared at Thom while tapping his fingernails on the polished desktop, as if trying to collect his thoughts. “Tell me again Mr. Landry, what were you doing at the Griffin this morning?”

“I stopped in to grab something to wear. All I had on was a leather vest from last night,” Thom explained.

“And no one else was there?”, the detective continued.

“Well except Karla as I told you earlier,'' Thom replied.

“Are you absolutely sure?”, Wallace insisted, again tapping on the desk irritatingly.

“Pretty sure, I mean I didn’t see anybody. It’s pitch dark without any lights but…. What the hell are you getting at anyway?”, Thom snapped back, now becoming both confused and irritated by the vague interrogation.

“One more thing, does anyone else have keys to the club?”, Wallace continued drilling.

“Well Danny has… well had... a set. He’s been training as my assistant manager but he already went back to Boston. Well, I thought he already left. Remember I told you that already and that’s why I was working the door ...” Thom stated firmly.

“In Boston, really? That’s your story?” Wallace demanded, standing to take an authoritative posture.

“Huh?”, Thom replied, crinkling his forehead. “What the hell are you getting at?”

“That was the medical examiner I was just talking to. It appears that Danny was dead before the fire started”, Wallace declared. “Not a bit of smoke in his lungs. Which means there was someone else there that had to have started the fire!”

Thoms’ face went completely blank and stark white as he slouched back in the chair, feeling bewildered and defeated. “I don’t even know what to say,'' he mumbled.

§

The forest green BMW raced down Rt 3 through Braintree towards the Cape. Nathan and Michael had made great time getting through the city as there were hardly any other cars on the road. Just before the rotary in Pembroke, Michael spotted a large lighted sign which read, ‘Bridge Closed Ahead, Local Traffic Only’.

“Damned”, he sputtered. “Now what do we do?”

“No problem”, Nathan assured him. “I still own that house in Falmouth and use that address on my license so technically that makes me a ‘local’. Besides, I still know most of the cops around here. This girl may have been around the block a few times but that only means I’ve met more people along the way. I think we’ll actually stop by the house anyway and grab the Jeep. I imagine we may need it to get through the sand dunes outside Provincetown. I’m sure with the storm the roads are probably drifted over.”

§

“Crap”, Steven sputtered as he scanned the almost empty parking lot. “I guess they have already shut everything down for winter, the gates are all up and nobody is in the booth”.

“The only car here is the one I rented”, Karla indicated, noticing as Steven had begun walking towards it.

“Oh, I was kinda hoping it was the killers”, Steven replied turning back to Karla. “Now what do you suggest?”

“Well I guess we might as well head back to the Pilgrims Landing and figure it out. At least we can change into something dry”, Karla declared grabbing Stevens arm and heading back towards Commercial Street.

When they arrived, Steven pulled a set of keys from his pocket but when he went to open the door, it was already open slightly. “That’s weird, I don’t remember leaving the place unlocked,'' he began with both concern and conviction.

“Huh?” Karla asked.

“The door, it’s open. I’m sure I locked it when I left with the cops earlier”, Steven again proclaimed.

“Well does it look like someone broke in?”, Karla inquired.

“Dunno, nothing smashed or anything,'' Steven motioned for Karla to come look for herself.

She pulled a small flashlight from her pocket and began to inspect the doorway. “You must have left it unlocked and the wind blew it open”, Karla declared as she pushed the door wide open and entered. Suddenly a crash came from the room just off the main lobby, stopping both Karla and Steven cold in their tracks.

“Someone is in here!” Steven screeched as a smash of more breaking glass filled the air.

Karla began to race toward the sound but fell over an overturned chair as Steven fumbled his way in the darkness to the reception desk. As he lit a lantern, the glow revealed a disarray of papers and tumbled furniture the intruder had left behind. “Holy shit”, Steven declared as he surveyed the scene. “What the hell do you think they were looking for?”

§

Thom sat in silence, not really hearing the words as Detective Wallace continued to give him the gruesome details of Danny’s body and the implications that the find would have on him. Every few moments he would hear something about Danny being in Boston was obviously a lie meant to cover up something and something about setting a fire to destroy evidence, something something. Thom was mostly in shock over the entire course of events transpiring in the last 48hrs. These two days had completely turned his world upside down. “What the hell was I thinking?” he pondered. “Why did I ever come to P-town years ago, why was Johanna at the bar, why… why… why anything?”

As Wallace babbled on, the noise was broken by the insidious ringing of a phone, startling both men. As the Detective reached to answer, he grumbled aloud, “They can get the damned phone lines up but we still can’t get the power fixed. “Detective Wallace here”, he answered. ”I see….unhuh….I see... interesting ...I'll be right there,'' as he slammed down the receiver and turning again to Thom. “Well Mr. Landry, it seems the Pilgrims Landing was broken into. You wouldn’t know anything about that now would you?”.

“Your kidding me right?”, Thom sarcastically responded.

§

Karla continued lighting lamps around the room as Steven hung up the phone. “Cops should be here shortly”.

“Do you see anything missing?”, Karla asked.

“Doesn’t really look like it but then again it’s kinda hard to tell, they left the place in such a fucking mess, it’s gonna take me a week to get all these papers and stuff sorted out. It’s more like they were looking for something”.

“That’s it!” Karla screeched. “I bet the murder was looking for anything with your strangers name or information on it”.

“Naw… I never got his name and don’t think he ever even offered it”, Steven replied.

“Well maybe whoever was here doesn’t know that and they were trying to find his name…”, Karla rationalized.

                                                   §                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

A black Jeep raced out of the driveway of 19 Mayflower lane in Falmouth and started towards town. “We’ll gas up and be on our way,'' Nathan stated as he pulled a handgun from his jacket and handed it towards Michael. “Here, put this in the glovebox”.

Michael sheepishly reached for the weapon stuttering,”Wha, wha, what do we need THAT for?”, carefully taking the gun with two fingers by the handle like a girl picking up a dead mouse.

“You never know,'' Nathan replied. “We may just need it, some crazy shit going on in P-town, and that’s saying a lot!”

“Yeah, now fill me in on what the hell IS going on there,'' Michael replied, dropping the gun into the glove box. “I keep getting annoying phone calls about selling the Griffin, and threats that I should ‘get out’ while I still can. The next thing I know is some drag queen gets murdered there!” he exclaimed.

“And then you said the place gets burned to the ground,'' Nathan added.

“Yeah that's what I saw on the TV when I came through the airport”, Michael replied. “I know there was a group in Boston that really wanted the property for a casino but….”

“I know, too many people have gotten killed over this already, this has to stop,'' Nathan declared.

“TOO many? What do you mean?” Michael demanded. “I thought there was just the drag queen that got killed.”

“I guess you haven't heard yet, WCVB reported that a body was found in the rubble from the fire,'' Nathan stated, matter of factly.

“Yikes”, Michael gulped hard. “Maybe holding onto that dive isn’t worth all the trouble after all.

“Well, you know I think the casino idea would bring a lot of money into town and year-round income for all of the other businesses there. But you and Thom just have to keep holding onto that gay Mecca fantasy”, Nathan remarked snidely.

“Seriously? Are we really going to do this right now?” Michael snapped back then turning his head away to stare out the window like a belligerent child.

“I’m just being realistic. Besides, what kind of business do you think we’ll have after all the bad publicity we’re gonna get out of this?”, Nathan notioned as he turned into a Cumberland Farms for gas.

§

Detective Wallace cautiously entered the Pilgrims Landing with his hand placed purposefully on the weapon holstered to his hip, followed by two uniformed officers and finally Thom. “Mr. Haynes, are you here?” he called out.

Steven appeared from the back office and stood next to the desk with his hands on his hips. “It’s about damned time”, he quipped.

“Now Steven… “, Thom warned.

“Yeah, you better listen to him”, one of the officers added.

“So what happened?” Detective Wallace asked Steven, as the officers cautiously lowered their weapons, placing them back in their holsters.

“Well”, Sean sighed as he began, “Karla and I came back and noticed the front door was open and when we came in the place was a shambles like it is now.”

“Did you touch anything?”, Wallace asked as he motioned for one of the officers to begin looking around.

“Of course not” , Steven responded.

“Is there anything missing?” Wallace continued.

“I don’t think so, not anything obvious anyway. It’s such a mess who can tell?” Steven explained.

“How do you know if anything is missing if you didn’t touch anything?” The detective again asked, sounding almost accusing.

“Agh, you’re impossible. Do you think I just made this big ole’ mess so I could get to see you again?” Steven ranted.

“It’s ok Steven, the detective is just doing his job”, Karla intervened, then turning towards Wallace and the officers. “We came back to find the place trashed. As we started towards the office there was a big smashing noise of a window being broken from somewhere on the other end of the hall. Whoever it was must have heard us come in and made a run for it.”

“So you didn’t actually see anyone in here?” Wallace inquired.

Steven rolled his eyes, “It’s nearly pitch dark in here and in case you hadn’t noticed the power is still off!”

“I’m just trying to get the facts straight here, Mr. Haynes”, Wallace explained.

From the back of the room an officer snidely remarked, “Shit there’s nothing straight around here.”

§

As Michael and Nathan continued carefully maneuvering towards Provincetown, the rain continued pouring down in buckets and the gusting winds pushed at the Jeep, making the drive slow and difficult. Between snaps of lightning and static, a voice over the radio announced, “a second wave of storms is expected to hit the New England coast this evening with substantial flooding to low-lying areas and shorelines.”

“Good thing we brought the Jeep, huh?”, Nathan observed as he pulled his cell phone out to see if they still had service.

“Yeah, I suppose”, Michael replied. “ I still can’t believe this all has to do with selling the Griffin. Have you talked to Thom yet?”.

“No, haven’t been able to get through. The news station out of Boston said that the storm already kicked out most of the power on the far end of the Cape and I’m supposing it hit the cell towers too”, Nathan declared.

“So you don’t know how Thom is handling everything?”, Michael asked as Nathan placed his phone back into the side pocket of his pants, seeing that there was no signal.

“No, but I’m sure he’s fine. Yeah, he had some drag queen wind up dead at the bar but you know Thom, stuff just rolls off his back like water on a duck. Nothing ever phases him,” Nathan stated with absolution.

“I guess you didn’t know then,” Michael intercepted. “Before Johanna became a female impersonator, she, I mean he, and Thom were quite the power couple in P-Town.”

“Ah,” Nathan exclaimed. “That certainly explains a lot. I’m kinda surprised then he stayed in town if she was still working there every summer. I mean it’s been what four or five years since he dated Johnny? At least I’m guessing that’s who Johanna used to be. It’s the only one Thom ever dated that he seemed genuinely serious about.”

“Yes, Johnny was Johanna”, Michael confirmed.

As they rounded the corner coming through Truro and began up a slight incline, Nathan noticed someone had struck the guide rails, leaving fresh tracks down into the ditch. Headlights dimly lit into the trees where the vehicle had lodged. “Oh shit, I think someone is down there!”

§

Steven eyed the outspoken officer like a tiger about to kill its prey. “What the hell is THAT supposed to mean?”

“It is what it is,'' the officer remarked.

“Enough of that,” Detective Wallace warned. “Now Mr. Haynes, what time was it when you came back here?”.

“I guess we got here about 45 minutes ago. It was just before I called the station”, Steven answered. “Karla thought maybe I had accidentally left the place unlocked but as soon as we came in, we saw the mess and then heard the crashing window.”

“I see…” Wallace pondered. “So you didn’t actually see anyone?”

“No dammit, we already told you that”, Steven snapped. “You think I’m making all this shit up?”.

“Well you are still a suspect in a murder case and this would be a good way to divert attention away from yourself….”, one of the officers commented.

“And you are all fucking crazy!”, Steven snarled back.

Standing nearer to the door then the rest, one of the officers without looking, placed his hand gently on his side as he felt his cell phone briefly vibrate silently in its holster.

“Damned, No Answer”, Frank cursed as he set down the phone on the bar and lit another cigarette. Taking a large swig of his beer, he again picked up the phone and began scrolling through the contacts list. “Ah… here it is” as he hit the dial button.

“Hello…?”, a high pitched voice answered.

“Carter, What the hell is going on down there? All I’ve heard is the garbage on the news” Frank yelled.

“Well it looks like the murder may have complicated everything”, Carter replied.

“How the hell is that? Fuck that should had sealed the deal!” Frank declared.

“I suppose it would have but there’s been some complications”, Carter sighed.

“Well don’t they have the manager Steven, from the Pilgrims Landing in custody as the suspect?” Frank asked with more of a declarative tone.

“He’s still a suspect but not in custody. Apparently he’s saying that some mysterious stranger rented his room. He and Thom seem to think that guy was the one that killed Johanna.

“Did anyone see this guy?”, Frank continued.

“Not really but I think he may have stayed here last night. Claimed to be a news reporter but he disappeared late this afternoon,” Carter stated.

“Well that will need to be taken care of if he does show back up before he runs his mouth off ”, Frank replied with conviction.

“I suppose…”, Carter stammered. “But what about Steven?”

“With no mystery man around then Steven’s story isn’t worth shit,'' Frank explained. “They will have to convict him and then the Pilgrims Landing will be fair game. Allan can’t run that place without Steven, he’ll lose his shirt in a week if he doesn’t sell out!”.

“That is true”, Carter replied.

“So how bad was the fire? The station here showed a quick overhead shot with lots of smoke but I couldn’t really tell how bad it was”, Frank asked.

Carter sighed before answering, “Yeah, that’s another thing, they found a body in the rubble and it nearly burnt down half the town. Lucky the winds let up long enough to get it under control”.

§

“Mr. Haynes, do you know why anyone would break in here if nothing is missing?” Wallace asked.

“Not a clue,” Steven replied. “Unless it was the real murderer coming back to kill me or drop more evidence to frame me! Even though your already convinced it was me!”

“Now Mr. Haynes, that’s hardly the case here but right now you are our best suspect. Meanwhile though, I really don’t think it advisable for you to stay here tonight. I need to have a couple officers take photographs of everything and then after you all lock up, they’ll take you two over to the Admirals for the night”.

Wallace directed to the ruder officer, “Peters, go get the camera from the patrol car outside so we can get this investigation going”.

Turning Barack to Steven, “Mr. Haynes, You’ll need to come by the station first thing in the morning to finish filing the reports”.

“Yeah, I suppose…”, Steve started, a little thrown by the detectives sudden change of tone. “What about Karla? She was staying here with…”

“She can stay with me”, Thom interrupted as the officer passed him in the doorway. “Something here just isn’t right”, he thought to himself as he glanced over towards Karla who was intently watching the boorish officer outside and likely thinking the exact same thing as himself. From where she was standing, she could see the officer through the open doorway as he fumbled through the trunk of the cruiser.

Looking down, the officer noticed the light on his phone was again blinking. “Shit, must have missed another call,'' he grumbled as he removed the phone from the holster to see who it had been. “Unknown Caller” it read in text. “Must have been Frank,'' the officer said to himself as he scrolled for the number and began dialing.

“Peters, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you, where the hell have you been?”, Frank replied, yelling into the phone.

“I’m at the Pilgrims Landing,” Peters relied, grinning sheepishly. “Apparently there’s been a break-in here”.

“Did you get everything in place then?, Frank anxiously asked.

“Yeah, the place is trashed. Even got the little fag thinking the killer was coming back for him. This is going even better than we planned, `` Peters declared.

“I planned”, Frank corrected him. “Now as long as that stranger never actually shows up,'' Frank added with concern.

“He’s far from here by now,'' Peters assured. “Besides Wallace is convinced that Steven committed the murder.”

“Are the others there yet?” Frank asked.

“No, not seen anyone yet. I doubt they can get here anyway. The roads are still messed up and the sand is drifted across the road through Truro. Will let you know as soon as I see them though,” Peters stated as he hung up the phone and continued to rummage through the trunk. “Now where the hell is that damned camera?” he sputtered.

§

Nathan reached for the handgun and slipped it into the back of his waist and then grabbed a flashlight as he pulled over to the side of the road, carefully aiming the headlights towards the wrecked car. “Stay here”, he directed Michael as he got out of the Jeep and cautiously made his way down the embankment. As he made his way closer, he could see through the rain that the car had landed on it’s side, lodged between two trees. “No way I could pull him out of here”, he thought as he made his way to the front of the still steaming car. Shining his flashlight into the front window, he could see someone slumped over the steering wheel which had been draped by the imploded airbag. He tapped vigorously on the shattered windshield with the flashlight but with no reply. “Shit”, Nathan yelled aloud, noticing the strong odor of gasoline despite the pouring rain. “Michael, come help me get this guy out of here”, he bellowed over the increasing downpour. A few moments later, Michael stood at his side, peering at the bloodied man in the car. “Well, let’s get him outta there!”, Nathan directed as he carefully began kicking at the shattered windshield to separate it from its frame. “Careful”, Nathan snapped as he began to peel away the glass and pull the limb body from the vehicle then carrying him up to the road.

“Now what?”, Michael began. “It’s too far back to the hospital in Hyannis and it would take forever to get an ambulance out here in this weather. We barely made it ourselves.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to take him on into Provincetown and at least the rescue squad can take care of him until they are able to fly him out or something,'' Nathan declared.

§

“Can we at least board up the broken window?”, Karla asked as she winked to Thom.

“I suppose”, Wallace replied. “But first let my officers get pictures and dust for prints and don’t disturb anything!”.

“Steven, go grab some boards, hammer, and some nails. Thom, come help me see what else we need”, Karla ordered.

Thom took a lantern from the table and followed Karla down the corridor towards Stevens room. “We’re not playing Bob the builder are we?”, he began.

“I could care less about a damned broken window,” Karla quipped. “Now tell me, what do you know about Officer Peters?”.

“Other then he’s a prick?”, Thom teased. “Don’t really know that much about him. He started on the force down here about a year ago. I’ve only encountered him a few times making the rounds through the bars; usually giving the drunk queens a tough time but nothing too major. I really don’t trust him much though, why?”.

“I just feel something about him isn’t right”, Karla commented as she grabbed the lantern from Thoms’ hand and began searching the floor of Steven’s room on her hands and knees.

“What the hell are you doing now?”, Thom asked as he knelt down beside her.

“Looking for the crack in the floor”, she quickly replied.

“Huh? Your ON crack”, Thom clamored.

“When I was in here yesterday there was a piece of paper I found with some writing on it that fell down in the floor between the cracks. I thought it might have some clue as to who Steven rented the room to”, Karla explained. “Here it is!” she screamed as she moved the lantern, trying to shine the light on the paper. “It looks like a credit card receipt but I can’t make out the name on it….”

“I found a hammer and some nails but I couldn’t find…Karla, what the hell are you doing?”, Steven cried as he entered the room.

“Perfect! Gimme that hammer!”, Karla exclaimed as she grabbed the hammer from his hand. “Thom, help me get this board up”.

Again Steven exclaimed, this time more excited, “What the hell are you doing?”.

“Here, hold this. Ok, just a little more Thom, I think I can reach it. Hold that end right there…”, Karla directed as she pried one end of the floorboard upwards and slid her hand down into the open space. “Ah, got it!”.

“Quick, I hear someone coming”, Thom motioned as Karla leapt up and shoved the paper into her pocket, quickly sliding a rug over the area with her foot.

“What’s going on in here?”, Peters asked as he scanned the room.

“Detective Wallace said we could try closing up the broken window in the hallway”, Thom quickly answered.

“Well it doesn’t look like your accomplishing much in here”, Peters barked.

“I found the hammer and some nails but couldn’t find plywood or anything, we thought there might be cardboard or something around here”, Steven explained.

“Why don’t you just use a shower curtain or something”, Peters offered. “And be quick about it”, he gripped over his shoulder as he left the room.

“Whew, that was close”, Karla sighed with relief. “Thom, go grab that shower curtain and nail it over the window so we can get out of here”.

“What’s going on?”, Steven inquired.

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain later”, Karla replied as she grabbed his arm and headed back to the lobby area to see what the detective had found.

“Ah, Mr. Haynes, just the person I was looking for”, Wallace stated looking up from the desk. “We’ve found something here quite interesting. I think you need to come see this”.

As Wallace led Steven and Karla into the office, Steven grabbed Karlas’ hand, “I wonder what this could be now?”.

Officer Peters stood in the middle of the room wearing a pair of elbow length black rubber gloves holding up a ziplock bag. As they entered the room he held it closer so the light of the lamp could reveal it’s contents; a bayonet. “The murder weapon”, he declared proudly, as if he alone had solved the murder. “Army issue with HAYNES2217 inscribed on the handle. And I’m sure the lab will find traces of the victim's blood.”

“Well I guess this proves you are the killer!”, Wallace declared with unwavering arrogance.

“That proves nothing!”, Karla snapped back.

“Proves what?”, Thom asked as he entered the room, then seeing the officer standing with the bag in his hand. “Oh...shit”.

“Mr. Haynes, you are under arrest for the murder of Johanna James. Anything you say can be and will be…” Steven heard nothing more of what the officer said as he stood there motionless; his speechless mouth hung open as he gasped, nearly on the verge of tears