Smile Like You Mean It - 7. Seven

Seven

Bruno stood transfixed in horror at the sight of Casey’s limp form. But he was literally shaken from his inertia as Waylon pushed past him, weapon drawn. The detective rushed to kneel at Casey’s side, fumbling to feel for a pulse.

“He’s alive,” Waylon shouted to Bruno. “Come here ,” he said as his stripped off his button down shirt, swiftly folding it into a rough square and pressing it to the wound on Casey’s chest. He motioned with his free hand for Brunoto take over. “You need to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. I’ll call for an ambulance and make sure who ever was here is gone.”

As Bruno knelt to take over the grim task, Waylon, gun raised, walked through to the back of the store as he dialed. Bruno had long known of time’s elastic nature, but never before had he ever experienced such an intense blend of moments flying by and simultaneously standing still.

The night blurred as Bruno knelt by his bleeding friend, whispering endearments and encouragements to his pale, motionless face. Waylon returned alone from his search of the back of the store, the EMTs arrived and transferred Casey to the ambulance, the police arrived. Bruno was questioned, a crime scene was set up, Casey’s sister and Shane were notified of the tragedy. Even Chad showed up, worried that Casey’s quick trip to pick up his laptop had taken so long and grown frantic when Casey and Bruno hadn’t answered his calls and texts. Through it all, Bruno floated in a kind of haze. Observing all, even participating when required, but strangely removed. More like performing in a play than actually living the scene.

Finally, Bruno was allowed to leave, and Waylon led him like a child back into his own store and upstairs to the apartment. When Bruno seemed unable to function on his own, Waylon took him by hand into the bathroom, turning on the shower, stripping them both before leading Bruno into the soothing spray.

Waylon cleaned Bruno with firm, but gentle hands, soaping his back and legs, shampooing Bruno’s long, auburn curls, careful not to get subs in the younger man’s eyes. As the hot water warmed him, and the last of the blood was washed away, Bruno slowly came back to life. As the impact of the night became more and more clear, Bruno started sobbing….huge, gasping sobs, and Waylon gathered him into his arms as they stood beneath the streaming water until Bruno’s sobs ended, and the ginger’s composure returned.

After they left the shower and Bruno had put on clean clothing (he planned to burn the outfit he had been wearing….he never wanted to see, much less wear, those items again) Waylon insisted that Bruno come with him to his apartment. Bruno wanted to go to the hospital, but Waylon, recognizing that the ginger was on the brink of collapse, overruled him.

“Your passing out won’t help Casey. He’s in good hands, his condition is stable. Shane’s there, Jason’s there, Chad’s there, his sister is there. And Casey will be there in the morning. I promise. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Waylon’s apartment was in a new building not far away off Tulane Avenue. Small, sterile, impersonal, it still felt like a haven to Bruno. And in seconds of his body touching the crisp white sheets, despite his protestations that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, Bruno, surrounded by the smell of Waylon’s woodsy cologne, fell into a deep, mercifully dreamless slumber.

Bruno was disoriented when he woke; disconcerted by the blank beige walls so unlike his own of white painted shiplap, it took a while to remember where he was. After a brief search made easier by the sparse furnishings, Bruno found his phone and checked the time: just after 6 a.m.

Waylon was nowhere to be found, but had left a note for Bruno saying he had gone into the station and that Bruno should stay as long as he needed. Bruno quickly washed his face, brushed his teeth with the still packaged toothbrush that had been left out on the bathroom vanity, tied his hair back, and ordered an Uber to take him to the hospital.

Bruno was anxious to find out how Casey was, but didn’t want to bother Waylon if he was working or wake the others. It didn’t take him long to find the correct waiting room where Shane and Linda, Casey’s sister were waiting.

Linda was asleep, the petite blonde curled up under a blanket on a stiff settee. Shane was also cuddled under a blanket, but still awake.

“Hey,” Shane said with a tired smile. “I thought you’d turn up first thing.”

“How is he?”

“Good. Or at least as good as possible,” Shane said as Bruno dropped into a chair near him. “. The gun wound isn’t serious, at least as gun wounds go, and the head wound is not as bad as they originally thought. In fact, he regained consciousness a few hours ago. He’s been in and out since then, but the doctors don’t think there will be permanent damage.”

“Head wound? I didn’t even realize. The bastard hit him too?”

“They think he hit his head on the counter when he fell. The injury isn’t consistent with a weapon,” a deep voice from behind Bruno said.

“What are you doing here?” Bruno said, turning to Waylon. “I thought you had to go into work.”

“I did. That’s why I’m here. Shane, if you will excuse me, I need to talk to Bruno.”

“What’s up?” Bruno said as he and Waylon reached the corridor. “Why are you here?”

“To see if Casey was coherent enough to give a statement. Which he was, though it wasn’t helpful….he doesn’t remember much about last night at all, and the doctors don’t think it likely he ever will. Not surprising for a concussion, but I was hoping for something.”

“A statement? This is your case, too? I thought…..” understanding reached Bruno. “You think this is related to Loren’s death.”

“It looks that way. It’s too early to have a full analysis, but the bullet they found at the crime scene matches the type found at Hunt’s house.”

The color drained from Bruno’s face. “Sammy saw me there...at Casey’s. This my fault….I should have warned him. This is all my fault...if only I had tried to get a restraining order...”

“Hey,” Waylon said, grabbing Bruno’s upper arms gently. “This is not your fault. We don’t know it was Sammy, and even if it was….you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re not the bad guy here, baby.”

Warmth from Waylon’s contact, flooded into Bruno, soothing him. “Thank you, i'm sorry I’m such a wreck, but this is all just so ….fucked…”

“I know. And I am sorry that I need to add more stress. You’re familiar with Casey’s store….the stock...all that?”

Bruno nodded.

“I need you to come with me to see if you tell if anything has been taken, anything out of the ordinary. And I’m going to need to do an official interview on the record with Bob to see if we can figure out Casey’s connection to Loren is….if you and Sammy are the links….or if it something else.

“But I want to stay here with Casey.”

“I know. And I’ll try to get you back here as soon as possible, but the faster we get the facts, the faster we can catch the guy who did this.”

After saying goodbye to Shane and a brief stop by a sleeping Casey's room, Bruno and Waylon left the hospital. They talked little on the drive, and Bruno felt a sense of dread building as they neared their destination. When they pulled up to the shop, Bruno remembered his first return to Loren’s house after the murder; so little outward change, but the place had felt entirely different. So too, Casey’s store. The only visible change was the yellow police tape, but it felt like a foreign site now, not a place Bruno knew like the back of his hand, where he had felt as comfortable as in his own apartment.

Waylon’s partner was there waiting by the porch steps. He had looked unfriendly at the memorial; now, he looked truly pissed, his thick brows drawn together in a thunderous scowl.

“Bruno, this is my partner, Detective Rodriguez. Bob, meet Bruno Vignau.”

“I know who he is,” Rodriguez growled. “Let’s get started.”

Rodriguez detached the tape blocking the stairs and gestured for Bruno to proceed up them. The ginger walked up slowly, fighting his urge to flee. Only the knowledge that helping the investigation would aid in finding justice for Casey was enough to keep him there.

“Based on the evidence,” Waylon said as the trio got to the top, “it looks like the perp was in the store and Casey surprised him. There’s no sign of forced entry, and the alarm didn’t go off. Any clue how the guy got in?” He had taken out a pad and pen, and Rodriguez held a recording device.

“Casey hides a key outside. Here,” Bruno said, kneeling and pushing aside a large iron urn, disclosing a key.

“Who knows about it?” aked Rodriguez.

“Lots of people. Casey is pretty laid back out security and stuff like that. I knew, obviously.....Shane, Patricia…..that’s the girl who works for him part time. The cleaning lady, the exterminator….all those kinds people knew….If Casey couldn’t be here and I couldn’t meet them, he was fine with them letting themselves in.”

“Was it the same with the alarm code?” Waylon asked.

“Pretty much. Plus, he isn’t the best about remembering to set it. There’s been more than once when he had me run over to check on something, and he hadn’t armed it.”

“Great,” Rodriguez said in disgust. “That really narrows everything down.” Waylon shot him a warning look. “And Detective Venturi said the door was open when you entered the scene last night.”

“Yes. I was headed for the pot when I saw the crack in the door.”

“Did you notice if the pot was out of place? Did it look like it had been moved?” Rodriguez asked.

“Sorry, I was too upset to notice anything.”

“Of course you were.”

“Bob,” Waylon said. “Knock it off.”

Ignoring him, Rodriquez opened the door and ushered Bruno inside. Bruno gasped at the sight. He had a hazy recollection of disorder from the night before, but the store’s condition was worse than he had imagined.

Gowns were strewn right and left, some heavily damaged. The St. Laurent that Casey so admired was destroyed, the sleeves torn from the bodice, the jeweled accents ripped off. The glass case that held costume jewelry was smashed, brooches and necklaces thrown around like confetti.

More upsetting was the blood stain, still in place, that marked the place that Casey had fallen.

“Jesus,” Bruno breathed. “And Loren’s dresses….they’re ruined….”

“Loren’s dresses?” Rodriguez asked. “You mean Loren Hunt?”

“Yes…..Casey bought Loren’s drag wardrobe. In it were some very expensive designer dresses that had belonged to his aunt. Casey was planning to auction them off for the Amanda Brooks foundation Loren started.”

“Hmmm…..” as he pondered this connection to Loren Hunt, Rodriguez’s faced lightened a bit. “Probably just a coincidence, but interesting. At least it’s something.”

“Do you know which ones belonged to Hunt?” Waylon asked.

“Some. Like those near the front window, definitely. I didn’t pay all that much attention to the rest, and with this mess...honestly I can’t really make heads or tails of it. But….Casey did have a detailed inventory on his computer. If it’s still there, I know his passwords.”

“It is...or at least there’s a laptop in the office. Lead the way.”

The destruction was limited to the showrooms, and as he passed through the door into the back, Bruno was struck by how normal the rear of the store felt. Almost like the other rooms were the site of an elaborate practical joke Casey had staged.

The office was untouched, the laptop in its accustomed place on the desk. Within minutes, Bruno had the inventory, which included pictures of the items, printing.

“Thank you, Mr. Vignau,” Rodriguez said. “We’ll have someone match this to the stuff in the shop. Does Mr. Phillips have a safe?”

“Yes, it’s in the closet,” Bruno said, gesturing to a door, “but there’s never much in it. He doesn’t do a lot of cash business… he mainly uses it for the occasional expensive piece of jewelry or handbag. I don’t know the code, but I know where he keeps it.”

After a bit of searching, Bruno found the code and gave it to Waylon, who went to the closet, opened it, and punched the numbers into the small safe’s keypad. The door swung open revealing a pair of alligator pumps and a large velvet covered jewelry box.

“Is anything missing?” Rodriguez asked Bruno.

“Not that I know. I was here when Casey put the necklace in, and it was empty then except for the shoes.”

Ignoring the pumps, Waylon pulled out the hinged box and opened it. Inside lay a huge pear shaped jewel on a delicate chain, the clear white stone sparkling in the light.

Rodriguez whistled. “Now that’s motive for murder.”

“Maybe if it was real,” Bruno said. “It’s fake. Or at least the stone is.”

“Oh,” Rodriguez said, his face crestfallen. “How do you know? And why put it in the safe if it’s worthless.”

“I was with Casey when he examined it. It’s one of the pieces from Loren’s aunt. But even if it’s costume, it’s still valuable. I mean, it’s not worth thousands and thousands, but it’s a very high end piece of costume jewelry…..the setting and chain are real platinum, the workmanship is excellent, it’s from a well known jeweler, and it’s vintage in perfect condition. It wasn’t cheap, even back in the day. But that’s not why it’s in the safe; Casey put it aside for particular client, and he didn’t want it sold by mistake.”

“There goes that theory,” Waylon said, shutting the box and replacing it in the safe. “I think we’re done in here. Bruno, if it’s okay with you, let’s go to your place and Bob and I will ask you some questions and see if we can figure out what the hell is going on.

The trio left Casey’s shop after arming the alarm and trooped over to Bruno. The ginger made coffee, and the group settled into the front showroom. The detectives asked question after question for what seemed like hours, but the answers were unsatisfactory, at least to Rodriguez, who finally snorted in disgust.

“This is pointless,” he said, rising. “I’m finished wasting my time on this. I’m headed out to do some real police work. You’ll be headed back to the station shortly, right?” Rodriguez asked Waylon.

“Yes. I’ll be there soon.”

After the brusque man had left, Bruno sighed in relief. “He’s kind of intense, and I don’t think he liked me.”

“He can be intense. He’s a good guy though, always has my back. And it’s me he’s pissed at right now.”

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t approve of me being involved with someone who’s part of a case.”

“He knows? You told him?”

“Yeah. He’s my partner. It’s not good to keep secrets from your partner….I know his, and he knows mine. And I trust him with my life.”

“Is he upset because you’re with a guy?”

“He’s the only one on the force who knows I’m gay, but he’s known for a long time. He’s pissed because he’s worried about what will happen if people find out I’m in a relationship with a person involved with an ongoing investigation. He’d be pissed if you were a woman. I hate to leave you like this, but I do have to go now. Do you want me to drop you at the hospital?”

“I’m good.”

“Okay, see you later. Before I forget,” Waylon said, pulling out his keyring. “...let me give you a key.”

“To what?”

“My apartment. I don’t want you staying here alone with what’s been happening. It’s not safe.”

“I can’t do that….I’m not going be the cause of you getting fired or whatever will happen if somebody besides Bob finds out about us. Besides, I refuse to be driven out of my own home like I’ve done something wrong.”

“I figured you would say that. Okay, then, I’ll see you around seven when I get off.”

“What?”

“If you won’t move in my place, I’m moving in here. I told you before I care more about you and your safety than rules. I known what this guy is capable of, and he’s not hurting you….not on my watch. See you at seven, roomie,” Waylon said with a smile before turning and walking through the door, leaving Bruno standing in stunned silence.