This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons. If there is any similarity to any real persons or events it is entirely coincidental. Some license has been taken with places as well.
The work is copy righted (c) by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.
It was Sunday and Jimmy had the alarm set to wake him at nine o'clock. With the brunch scheduled for noon that would give him ample time to do everything that needed to be done. Billy slept until Jimmy brought him coffee at ten-thirty. With his rotating shift schedule he worked seven days in a row had one off; worked five had two off, worked seven had one off, etc. if he hadn't marked the calendar Jimmy never would know when he was working. When Billy had a Sunday off, or a Saturday-Sunday combination, they entertained. They rarely went out on week nights, as Billy nearly always had to be at work by seven, sometimes earlier.
Billy climbed into the shower, as Jimmy was setting the table. He sometimes wished that he had the kind of a job where he worked a regular schedule, with only an occasional Saturday shift thrown in, just as Jimmy did. But he liked what he did, and didn't want to change.
Jamison fought with his mind to determine where he was when he awakened and found himself not at home. As his eyes became accustomed to the bright sunlight which streamed in through the sheer curtains covering the large window.
Gradually his mind recalled enough to allow him to remember that he had gone home with Turner, He looked over at the sleeping figure next to him, The slight figure, skin the color of burnt sienna, the texture of silk, but very much a man, he thought. He slipped quietly out of bed and found his way to the bathroom.
When he returned Turner was still asleep, lying only partially covered. His muscular body still glowed as though covered with oil, his massive sex fully enlarged but not yet rigid with passion. Jamison slid back onto the bed. His own body responded to the sight. He eased himself into a position such that his lips could caress the tip of the tumescent organ.
John had risen early, and was lying clad only in a skimpy brilliant blue swimsuit soaking up the early afternoon sun. He'd coated his body with lotion against the fiery rays that reflected from the motionless water of the swimming pool. He mused how different the weather was here in Concord as compared to San Francisco across the Bay in the summer. On a normal day it was twenty-five to thirty-five degrees warmer here than in the city.
He rolled over to expose his back to the sun, and closed his eyes against the glare. He had enjoyed yesterday. His mysterious meeting with Darryl in the afternoon, and then his conversation with Jesse and all that it promised to be.
Darryl sat at his typewriter in his apartment composing a letter that he would send to John and the other applicant. He had a form letter on the computer in his office, but since he didn't want to wait until Monday to get John's in the mail had was doing it at home.
Dear Mr. Tennyson: After reviewing your application, we find that your interests do not coincide with those of our organization. Therefore your application will not he accepted.
Regretfully, Darryl Brackens.
That was easy enough.
Dear Mr. Spencer: Please accept our invitation to join us for an extended interview in preparation for admission to our organization. Your qualifications and interests show that you will he an ideal candidate for membership. An appointment is scheduled for Wednesday evening at seven o'clock. Should this not he convenient please contact me as soon as possible at my office.
Sincerely Darryl Brackens.
He hoped that John would accept.
"Did you see this?" The young man sitting on a stool at the bar almost shouted.
"See what, Doug?" the bartender asked.
"This!" he pointed to a picture in the Sunday paper he was reading.
"Who is it?"
"That's Tim," Doug said. What he was looking at was an artist drawing of the blonde haired boy; which the article that accompanied the drawing said, was found Saturday morning, dead in the alley between Fourth and Fifth Street and Mission. It asked anyone knowing his name to contact the police department on Monday, and gave the number of the police homicide division office, Billy's office number.
It was the usual notice that Billy had placed in the Sunday paper so that it would have the widest possible exposure.
"Are you sure?" the bartender asked.
"Sure, I'm sure. He was my roommate wasn't he? I ought to know! And he's been gone since Thursday too!" Doug was beginning to be truly upset.
"Calm down, Doug," the bartender said, "Here have a shot of this, it'll calm you down." He poured a shot glass fill of brandy and handed it to the kid.
Doug drank the liquid which, though cheap brandy, had the desired effect. It's warming essence filled his thin frame.
Billy had requested a temporary officer to answer his phone for Monday and perhaps Tuesday, if the number of calls warranted it. In that way, he could still get some work done, besides answering the phone. The officer answering the phone took names and numbers. Billy and Donna would do the callbacks to see if there was anything useful in the information the caller knew.
The first six callers had only seen the boy. They knew that he frequented the bars along Polk Street but very little else. One thought that his first name was Tim, but didn't know his last name.
"This is Sergeant Preston, Homicide Division, is this Douglas Johnson?"
"Yes, I'm Douglas," Doug answered.
"I understand that you know something about the boy whose picture was in the paper yesterday," Billy asked.
"Yes," Doug was both excited and terrified at the same time. He breathing became irregular and almost frantic, "It's Tim, I know it is!"
"Calm down, Douglas," Billy could hear the boy's breathing.
"But it is!"
"Well, maybe it's not, so don't get excited."
He waited a moment before continuing.
"Okay, Douglas, let's start by you telling me what you know about this Tim."
"All right," Doug said, "His name is Tim Jeffreys. He's my roommate, and I haven't seen him since Thursday."
"What's your address Douglas?"
"416 Larkin Street Apartment F," His voice was beginning to calm slightly.
"Okay, go on," Billy said.
"Well, Tim and I been living together since December. He came from Houston and didn't have anyplace to live, so I let him move in with me and Steve. Only Steve doesn't live here anymore. It's just me and Tim since May."
"Do you know if Tim has relatives?" Billy asked.
"I don't think so, he talked as if they was all dead."
"Okay, Douglas," Billy explained, "I'm going to send a car over to pick you up. They're going to bring you down to my office, and then we'll talk some more. Is that okay?"
"Sure," Doug said, "I don't go to work until this afternoon."
"Good. Can you hold on a moment; I have another phone call," Billy lied. He handed a slip of paper to Donna, on it was written the address, and Doug's name. "Get a car there now! Pick him up and bring here," he whispered to her.
"Okay, Douglas," Billy said trying to delay until the car got to him, "I'm back. What did Tim do for a living?"
There was a long pause, as Doug tried to think of some answer, "I'm not sure," he hesitated, "Nothing much I guess."
"Okay, Douglas," Billy said, "It's not important right now." A hustler, no doubt, Billy thought.
"Can you wait?" Doug said, "Someone's at my door."
"It's probably a policeman, Douglas. He's going to bring you down here. If it is, he'll ask to talk to me and you just go with him, okay?"
"Okay," Doug was frightened, but he knew he wasn't in any trouble himself; so he tried to stay calm. He put the phone down and unlocked the door. The two officers came in.
"What's the deal?" the one officer picked up the phone and asked.
"Just bring him in for questioning and ID on the boy in the morgue. The kid's frightened so try not to make it worse, okay?"
"Right Sergeant," he hung up the phone and turned to Doug, "Okay, Douglas, the Sergeant wants to talk some more with you, so we're going to drive you down town. There's nothing to worry about, okay?"
After a few more trivial questions in his office, Billy escorted Doug over to the morgue to identify the body of his friend. He had carefully explained what the procedure was and that all he had to do was to make certain that it was Tim by looking at the face, that he wouldn't have to see anything but his face, because if he couldn't recognize the face it wasn't his friend. Doug was understandably nervous, but somehow trusting Billy, he was calmer than he might otherwise have been.
Doug stood back along side of Billy as the attendant opened the door to the locker of John Doe and pulled out the tray. When he saw the cover form he began to panic and to shake. Billy put his arm around him to comfort and calm him.
"Are you okay?" Billy asked looking at him.
Doug nodded, feeling better now with the warmth of Billy's arm around him.
"I'm going to uncover his face now. You don't have to say anything, I'll know. But I do have to ask. Just nod your head for yes, and move it left and right for no, okay?"
Once again he nodded as he trembled briefly. Billy reached over and pulled sheet up carefully. He could feel Doug begin to tremble almost uncontrollably.
"Is that Tim Jeffreys?" Billy asked already knowing that it was. He looked and Doug nodded and began to weep. He put his face against Billy shoulder. Billy re-covered Tim's face and waited a moment.
"I've got to close the locker," he said and he took his arm away from Doug so that he could slide the tray back in to place and close the door. When he turned around and looked at Doug, tears were running down the boy's face, but he stood perfectly still, not daring to move or even to cry.
Billy walked up to him and put his arm around him once again. That's when Doug began to cry aloud, "Why?" he asked, "Why would someone kill him?"
"We don't know, Doug," Billy said, "That's what you're going to help us find out, if you can."
"I'll do anything," he cried, "Anything, just ask."
"Let's get out of here, Doug," Billy said.
Billy took Doug back to his office where he had him sign a statement that verified Tim's identity. He introduced him to Donna, whom he told him was going to be working on the case too.
"I'm going to drive Douglas back to his apartment," he told Donna, reverting back to the formal Douglas instead of Doug he had used when they were alone.
"Okay, I've got your notes, I'll begin typing up the statement for him to sign tomorrow."
"Okay," Billy said, "I'll be back later"
Billy planned on taking Doug back to his apartment, but not right away. He wanted to make sure that he was calm enough to do the right things, and to make sure that he wouldn't run, although he didn't think that he would. He had to be sure that it wouldn't happen.
He drove to The Castro. He wanted Doug to feel comfortable, but yet not be in the area that he and his friend frequented.
Billy found an empty parking space about three blocks away from the bar he was going to take him to for a drink. After one drink, he'd try and get him to eat something at a restaurant near by.
Doug just followed Billy, walking stiffly beside him, still dazed by what he had just done.
"We're going to stop for a drink and we can talk for awhile, okay?" Billy asked.
"Yeah, I guess I can use one," Doug was puzzled, a little by the fact that this policeman was offering to take him to a bar, even though he knew that he was under age, and somewhat by the fact that they were in The Castro.
They walked into the small bar called Sofia's. Doug had been in it a few times, but not often. It was a place where more conservative, middle-aged men hung out.
"Hello Billy," the bartender called as they walked in.
"Hi, Tom, how's it going?"
"Fine, not too busy yet." Tom could see that the kid with Billy was underage, but if Billy was willing to bring him in, there had to be a reason, Billy knew what he was doing. "There's a table free in the back, if you want."
"Thanks Tom." Billy led Doug to the back of the bar where there were three tables in almost seclusion. All three were empty today, so he chose the one where he could observe the bar's entrance.
Tom came back and took their order, not the usual practice, but he did it for Billy on those occasions when he figured it was official business. And, he thought, this had to be one of them.
Billy waited until their drinks were brought to them, before he began.
"I wanted to bring you here for a couple of reasons. First of all I thought you might be more comfortable in a Gay bar. Secondly, I wanted to bring you to a place where I was known so they wouldn't question the fact that you're underage. I couldn't take you to my place, because of police regulations and a whole lot of other things, one of which is that my lover's at home today, it's his day off.
"Anything else you'd like to know about that?" Billy looked directly into Doug's eyes.
"I wondered about it," Doug said, "You seem to understand about me and Tim, and all."
"Most of us policemen do understand," Billy said, "But some more than others. Some know about it, but want to ignore it, but others know about it, and refuse to acknowledge that it's even there. Still others refuse to accept the facts at all. We all know how they react to someone like you." Billy put the emphasis on you because he wanted Doug to understand what he was going to say next.
"When I say, you, I mean you and Tim and your other friends who live by the street, hustling for a living. And I mean hustling in the sense that you do when you say it. We all hustle for a living, one-way or the other, but that's not I'm talking about.
"I was pretty certain even before I knew his name that Tim was a hustler. When you called I suspected that you were too. While it is illegal, technically, for the duration of this investigation, and for some time to come, you'll not have to worry about the police from that stand point, no one's going to hassle you about what you do for a living. And no one's going to make an issue of it, not as long as I can do anything about it, they won't. I've already talked to my boss about you, not you in particular, but whom ever it was who came forward to identify him.
"What we're interested in primarily, is finding out who killed Tim, and if we can why. That's why it's important for you to be truthful with me, and tell me anything that I ask you. If I don't have to, I won't tell anyone anything that will get you into trouble with the law. If I think that there might be question about it, I'll let you know. Do you understand what I'm talking about?"
Doug nodded, "I guess so. What you're saying is that whatever I tell you, you won't use later to lock me up, is that, right?"
"That's it exactly," Billy said, "That's what call immunity from prosecution."
"So that's what that's all about!" Doug sounded amazed.
"So, now that you understand, you can start at the beginning, from the time that you first met Tim." Billy said.
Doug began his story. Tim arrived by bus from Houston on Saturday, the l8th of December 1981. He had very little money. He hung around the bus depot at the Trans Bay Terminal for while until he found someone he felt would tell him what he needed to know, how to get to Polk Street. He'd heard about it from people he'd talked to, and magazines he'd read.
After he found out where it was, he put his pack on his back and walked all the way there, trudging up the hill against the wind and rain which blew in his face.
By the time he reached Polk and Geary he was about frozen. The Gulch was open and he stepped inside. That's when Doug first saw him. He watched to see what he'd do now that he'd come in out of the wind and rain. Doug knew that he was new in town, by the way he looked around, and the fact that he was carrying a pack like he was.
"A brandy up," Tim said to the bartender.
"You got ID, kid?" the bartender asked.
"Sure," Tim said. He did have a fake ID from Texas, so he gave it to the man.
"You're new in town, right?"
"Yeah," Tim drawled, "Just got in."
"Well, if you're going to stay, you'll need to get a California ID. And you have to do it within thirty days from today. I'll remember you, so you'd better do soon."
"Yeah, I'll do it right away," Tim smiled and he paid for his drink. He didn't have much money, but he had to get warm. And the only way he knew how, was to get a good stiff drink into himself. He looked around to see who all was in the place. His gaze fell upon Doug, and he immediately sensed that he was one of his kind.
"Hello, my name is Tim," he said walking up to Doug.
"I'm Doug I heard you tell Jim that you're new in town. Where you from?"
"It's nice to meet you, Doug. I'm from Houston. You?"
"Kansas City," Doug answered.
"You must be glad you're here this time of year, " Tim said.
"Yes, I'm glad to be away from there anytime of the year."
They both laughed.
Tim moved in with Doug that very first day. They were to sleep together, as there were only the two beds in the room, Doug's and Steve's. That first night they had sex together, but considering what they both did for a living agreed not to do it again.
A short time later Steve moved out and Tim had a bed of his own. Tim was very good at what he did. And had no trouble in coming up with his share of the expenses of living together with Doug. With no taxes to pay, only the rent, utilities, and food, everything else was spending money. Each of then earned about three hundred dollars a week, sometimes four hundred. Considering they only worked three to four hours a day, they did very well. They were young, handsome, expert in what they did, and well endowed as well. They had no trouble finding clients.
Tim, Doug found out later on, was often attracted to rougher trade, men who liked a little pain, or liked to inflict pain on their partners. As far as Doug knew, he'd never been hurt by any of them, although occasionally he did have red marks on his behind from a strap or some other instrument.
As time went on they grew apart emotionally, seeing each other only when they were not working. There was never any romantic involvement between them. They'd only ever had sex that one time. Doug was glad that he hadn't fallen for Tim; he tended to take too many chances as far as Doug was concerned.
Thursday Tim said he had a client at eight o'clock, something rather interesting sounding, he told Doug. He left the apartment at seven-thirty and never returned. . . .
Doug agreed to have something to eat, so Billy took him up the street for lunch. They chatted about general things while they ate. Billy steered the conversation away from anything having to do with the case, and Doug was soon talking quite freely about himself.
When they finished eating, Billy drove him back to his apartment and walked up with him.
"You will be all right won't you, Doug," he asked as Doug opened the door.
"Yes, I think so," he smiled. "Won't you come in, Sergeant?"
Billy guessed that he should have a look around; perhaps he'd see something that might help. Although officers had been through everything while Doug was out. They had been very careful not to leave the place looking as if it had been ransacked.
Billy saw the look on Doug's face, when he discovered that indeed someone had been in his place.
"I'm sorry Doug, but they had a search warrant. I asked them to be careful not to leave the place a mess."
"I suppose they had to."
"I'm afraid they did. But that wasn't why I kept you away from here, please believe me," Billy said.
"I understand, I'm glad you did, I'm afraid I would have been quite upset, if I'd been here."
"It is better if one isn't," Billy said. "If they didn't find anything of interest, they won't be back, I'm sure of it. I'll let you know, if they're coming again, if I can."
"Thank you, you've been very kind. I appreciate it very much."
"You're welcome, Doug. If you need someone to talk to or have any questions, please give me a call. Just tell them who you are, I'll see that they get your message to me right away."
Billy looked around casually, and not seeing anything that wasn't obvious, turned to leave.
"Do you have to go?" Doug asked.
"I'm afraid I must," Billy said. He could see that longing in Doug's eyes. He'd better get out right away.
"I really would like you to stay," Doug said, and he came close to Billy.
"I'm sorry Doug," he said stepping back, afraid that once the boy put a hand on him he'd give in. "I really do have to leave." He put his hand on the doorknob and then turned to Doug again and said, "Perhaps another time."
Billy quickly escaped to the street. Why did I say that? he wondered, it was a foolish thing to say!
John Spencer's work went well on Monday, but whenever he wasn't actively working on something he kept finding himself thinking about Darryl and his organization. He couldn't explain this strange fascination.
At the bank Jamison had a light day, and he was glad. He hadn't gotten much sleep over the weekend, although he found that he was much more relaxed than he had been in some time. The time passed quickly and he was soon looking forward to lunch.
Turner was busily keying data, a faint smile on his lips as Darryl looked in on him late on Monday afternoon. What, Darryl wondered, accounted for that?
Darryl had seen the drawing in the newspaper. He wondered how many people he knew had seen it too. Apparently the police didn't find any connection between the kid and the location where his body was found. He was certain that if they had suspected anyone in the building that they would have at least made some inquiry as to whether anyone had seen anything suspicious.
Should he, he wondered, at least acknowledge that he had seen the boy hanging around outside? No, he thought excitedly, there was nothing to indicate that the boy had been killed in the neighborhood, not yet! To say he'd seen him hanging about would bring suspicion to the area, at least, if not to him. No, it was better to leave it be. Leave it be, forget about it!
Billy was glad when he got to the safety of his car. He couldn't rationally explain his sudden attraction for this mere boy. He'd never been really attracted to young men in years. Of course, he fantasized about such a situation, but he'd never really considered the possibility.
When he returned to the office, Donna handed him a stack of phone messages, which he quickly thumbed through. Then he began the task of going through them, one by one. For each one he made an entry in his log book, the name, address, and phone number, the date, and the information given. They all had to be called back, he wished he could have given that job to Donna, but that wasn't fair, that wasn't the way he worked. It was hard enough being a women police officer without getting stuck with all the drudgery as well.
"Hello," he said as the first number he dialed answered, "This is Sergeant Preston of the Homicide Division. You called about the drawing in the Sunday Paper?"
Turner finished early, and Darryl said that he should take off, since he'd worked on Saturday. Darryl wasn't prone to giving any extras as for as Turner was concerned, and Turner wondered about it. Oh well, he thought, he could use the extra time to get things straightened up at home. Lord knows the place could use it; he hadn't done any of the usual things on Sunday while Jamison was there.
Jesse looked at the card with John's phone number on it. He was tempted to call. Deciding to wait until later that evening he put it back in his wallet.
John shut down his computer terminal and headed for his apartment. It was almost five o'clock when he arrived there. He knew there wasn't much of a chance that there would be a letter from Darryl, but he hurried to the mailroom anyway. He was right, no letter.
Billy was finished with the list of phone numbers. No one he'd talked with could furnish him with any information he hadn't gotten from Doug. At least, it seemed, everything he'd learned about Tim from him was true. He left a note for Captain Harrison.
Positive ID on John Doe, name Tim Jeffreys, arrived SF from Houston, Texas, December 81. Houston address unknown. Have made inquiry of HT/PD.
Billy left his office in a pensive mood. He hoped that Jimmy wouldn't notice.
Donna had noticed. She wondered at Billy's mood. It couldn't be that he'd become upset over the murder of a street hustler, she thought, it had to be something more. As she left the office, she looked back as Billy scrawled the note to their boss. She hoped it was nothing serious.
She turned her attention to matters that more directly affected her. Her husband Ralph had been upset over the weekend. He'd said nothing to her, but she could always tell when something was bothering him. He had planned on going out bowling, and then suddenly changed his mind. She hadn't complained, because she relished the extra time with him. He'd seemed more attentive than usual to her needs that night. The next day he had seemed depressed and moody, but professed that it was must be a virus or something. She hoped that he was over it.
Doug showered and got ready to go out. He didn't feel like working tonight, but with Tim gone he would need more money come the first of the month. He didn't enjoy the idea of looking for another roommate, but he would have to start looking for one soon.
It was beginning to cool as the breeze came off the bay. It was still light out, it was only eight o'clock. He walked down toward the Tenderloin, the area he generally began his stroll, near Geary and Taylor. Then he turned toward Market and headed for Powell Street. The finer hotels usually provided him with his best chance at good trade.
As he was about to leave his office Ralph dialed the number from the slip of paper. He waited as the phone rang. There was no answer. He hadn't really expected that there would be. He hung up and drove home. He knew that Donna would be expecting him, and he didn't want to arouse any suspicions by his being late.
Jimmy was just putting the finishing touches to the meal he was preparing when he heard the key in the lock. He was glad that Billy wasn't late. He hated it when he fixed dinner and when it came time to eat Billy wasn't there. He'd resigned himself to a certain amount of that, and there had been weeks when it was every night, and it made him irritable. Billy was always very apologetic, but he couldn't help the way he felt about it.
Darryl closed up his office and took the bus home. He tried all day to recall more about that Friday night when he'd blacked out. His mood remained gloomy. He even tried reading some contemplative literature that was on the shelf of his office, something that might give him a clue as to what had happened. But he came away with nothing.
John ate his hastily prepared supper, and was sipping coffee when the phone rang. He picked it up.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello, this is Jesse. Is this John?" Jesse asked.
"Yes," John's eyes brightened, he almost forgotten that he had Jesse's number. "How are you? I was just thinking about you." He lied.
"I'm fine," Jesse's voice was cheerful, and he was excited about talking to John. But didn't quite know what he wanted to talk about. "How was your day?"
"Oh, so-so," John said. "I caught up on things around the house, laundry and all that."
Doug pressed the Lobby button on the control panel of the elevator as the door closed. It had been a good score, seventy-five dollars. He looked at his watch, just ten o'clock. Another like that and he could go back and get some sleep.
He straightened his shirt as the door opened in the lobby, and he strolled suggestively out the front door. Outside he paused to light a cigarette before turning to walk slowly down the street toward the Hyatt.
"Excuse me, young man!" a voice called from behind him.
Doug turned and saw the gentleman hurrying to catch up with him, he waited.
"I don't mean to impose, but I'm looking for a theater and I've become turned around. I'm afraid that I'm hopelessly lost," the man said.
A likely story, Doug smiled to himself. The man was average height, a little on the paunchy side, and spoke with an accent. But not bad looking, well dressed, he thought, could be.
"Yes," Doug asked, "Which theater are you looking for?"
"It's called The Langley," the man said.
"Yes I know where that is," Doug said, pausing a moment to get his bearings "It's about four blocks from here. " he paused again. "Well, I'm headed that direction. I'll walk with you." That would give the man time enough to work up his courage to ask him.
"That's very good of you," the man said. "I'm in town on holiday, and I thought that I'd see some of the sights. I've heard that it has some good movies."
"Oh yes," Doug said, "It has its moments, I guess." It's not too bad as a cruise place, he thought, but not my cup of tea.
"You don't sound too sure," the man said. Doug shrugged.
"Well," the man said, "if you don't think it'd be a good idea."
"It all depends on what you like, I guess."
"What would you suggest?" He was ready, Doug thought.
"How about something more lively?" Doug asked.
"I guess that would be more interesting. But isn't that more expensive?"
"Well that depends on what you like."
"Oh I don't know, the usual things, I guess."
"You staying around here?" Doug asked.
"Yes," the man said, "The hotel you just came out of"
John went to bed Monday night with an air of expectation on two counts: he had a date with Jesse for Saturday night, and he was looking forward to hearing from Darryl the next day.
Jesse walked slowly down to The Clock, he didn't have to be to work until nine, and it was still early, only eight-thirty. He was looking forward to the coming weekend, but he also needed something to get him from here to there. His sex drive was nearing its peak and he needed someone every day. He knew he should restrict his partners more, but he didn't have anyone special yet.
Billy and Jimmy snuggled quietly in bed, secure in their love. Jimmy had wondered about Billy's ardor at first, but gave in to his urgency and passion, delighting in the vigor and enthusiasm Billy gave to their lovemaking. Whatever the reason, he was glad. Silently he thanked whomever or whatever it was.
Billy felt ashamed of what he was feeling while he made love with Jimmy. He kept seeing Doug's fresh, eager face, beckoning him with his eyes. Jimmy's passionate response to his thrusting had only made it worse. But he had passed the point of no return and pressed on to the fiery climax. Later he lay exhausted, glad for the release. Perhaps now he could sleep without dreaming.
Tuner and Jamison lay together asleep after two hours of vigorous passion, which had drained away the cares of the day, secure from the fears and doubts of the work-a-day world.
Darryl lay awake staring at the ceiling in the darkness, the lights from passing cars reflected through the window. He got up and went to the medicine cabinet. There he found the small bottle of sleeping compound that the doctor had given him. He hated taking them because they made him sleep so soundly that even his alarm-radio would often not wake him. But he knew that if he didn't he would either not sleep or he'd dream uncontrollably.
Doug lay awake in the luxuriously appointed suite, his partner, Simon was breathing slowly beside him. For an older man, he thought, he wasn't too bad. He had the stamina and drive that many half his age would have trouble matching. He'd seen where Simon had hidden his wallet, but that wasn't Doug's style. Simon had paid him a hundred, if he'd stay the night. Doug had agreed, though now he wished he were out on the street away from all of this. His eyes moistened as he saw Tim lying dead and alone, almost forgotten in the world
Dead and alone, perhaps, but not forgotten. Ralph looked down at Donna as he stood beside their bed. They'd made love again tonight. She didn't often want to have sex more than once a week, but tonight she'd actually reached out to him. Now as he watched her, curled up in the bed, he wondered whether he was being selfish. She was a good wife, she complained a lot about little things, but by and large, she wasn't too bad. She had little imagination in bed, content with the routine. Her job, it seemed to him, was more important than their life together. Perhaps if they had children, he thought, maybe then she'd feel more toward him.
At first when they were married, he'd meant everything to her, and she to him. But later he'd felt her growing away from him, as she became more involved with her work. He hated it that she had to work to help make ends meet.
He walked into the living room and stood at the window looking down at the street. He remembered what he had done that one night almost five months ago. . .
. . . Ralph had gotten up and gone to the living room for a cigarette. Donna didn't like him to smoke in bed, especially when she was sleeping. A light mist was on the street below. He saw the figure of a young man standing beneath the street light at the bus stop. Ralph looked at the clock across the room, it was ten past two. There'd not be another bus for an hour.
Quickly he dressed putting on just sweats and sneakers, no socks or underwear. He stuck his wallet and keys into his pockets, grabbed his cigarettes and lighter and let himself quietly out of the apartment.
When he got to the sidewalk he saw that the young man was still there leaning patiently against the light pole.
"You need a lift?" Ralph asked as he approached him.
"Yeah," the man answered, asking, "You going downtown?"
"Sure," Ralph said, "My car's up the street." Ralph saw that the man was more a boy than a man, in age. Ralph unlocked the passenger side door and pulled the door open. He walked around to the other side as the kid got in.
As Ralph opened the door on the driver's side and the light came on, he saw the kid looking at him, seemly puzzled by something.
"Hey," the kid asked, "How come you're going out at this hour?"
"Cigarettes," Ralph said holding up his pack which was near empty. "Won't have time to get'em in the morning before I go to work."
"Oh," the kid said seemingly satisfied by the answer.
"How come you're still out?" Ralph asked.
"I was visiting a friend and missed the two o'clock bus," the kid looked at him with bright blue eyes, his long blonde hair damp from the mist glimmered in the light from the street.
Ralph put the key in and the engine purred into life. He waited an moment and the put it into drive and released the brake.
"Where abouts do you need to go?" Ralph asked looking at him. Ralph felt a stirring his groin as the kid looked back at him.
"That depends," he responded knowingly, "I mean..." he stopped. What are you doing, he thought to himself, this guy could be a cop! Besides, he thought, you don't need another score tonight! But, his mind said, you didn't get off the last time, and you're still horny. Nothing says you got to charge everyone.
"Depends on what?" Ralph asked feeling his sex drive kicking into high gear, making its presence visible as it pulsed freely along his right leg.
"Well," the kid said, "You're horny, and I'm horny, so why not do something about it. By the way, my name's Tim. " He groped himself. He was still half hard from the last time.
"Yeah Tim." Ralph said, "I didn't realize it, but I am" He looked away and maneuvered the car out into the street. "Can we go to your place?" he asked.
"Yeah," Tim answered, "Although my roommate might be there. But that's no problem." Tim hoped Doug wouldn't be. He hated it when Doug came into the place when he was carrying on with someone, especially if it was someone he wasn't charging.
"Great," Ralph said, "'Cause we can't go to mine, and I hate doing it in the car. Oh, my name's Ralph."
"Yeah, me too," Tim said. He slid closer to Ralph and grabbed hold of the long pulsing cock through the soft fleecy cotton.
Ralph felt the exhilaration of the touch. "Ohhh!" he sighed, "Better not or I'll shoot before we get to where we're going!"
"I'll be careful," Tim said. He knew how to control this. Many of his clients had this problem, the excitement and tension. He never wanted them to loose it before they got into bed, because he couldn't usually get paid if that happened. But tonight, it wasn't that actually. Tonight his pay was going to be something else, a good time for himself, and he definitely didn't want to spoil that by getting the man off too soon.
"Where do you live, Tim?" Ralph asked.
"Down off Larkin Street," Tim answered as he softly caressed the straining organ. He squeezed hard and held it. Gradually the tension subsided and he released the hold slowly.
He watched the look on Ralph's face. There too the tension left and a calmness of control replaced the intensity of a moment ago.
In a few minutes Ralph pulled the car into a parking space a block from Tim's apartment. Ralph's member had relaxed somewhat, and although there was a wet spot where the preseminal fluid had seeped out, it wasn't too obvious that he had an erection. Tim's had returned to a semi-flaccid state.
Tim unlocked the door and Ralph went in ahead of him. There was no sign of Doug. He led Ralph to the bedroom and showed him where the bathroom was. Ralph used the bathroom and returned and sat on the bed next to Tim.
"It's my turn," Tim said, "I won't be long."
Ralph leaned back as he watched Tim disappear. A few minutes later Tim came out of the bathroom carrying his clothes, his sex bouncing lightly before him.
"I'm ready," Tim said. . . .
. . . That was first time. And now Tim was dead! He'd seen the picture in the newspaper. He'd wanted to call and tell all he knew about Tim, but he knew that he couldn't do that. Even if Donna hadn't been answering the phones, he knew that she'd be sure to find out that he'd called. And he knew enough about police procedure to know that he couldn't keep his identity secret for very long.
He hoped that someone else had called. He hated the idea that Tim was lying cold and dead, no one knowing who he was. Why anyone would want to kill him, Ralph couldn't imagine. He was such a gentle, likable person. He wasn't at all what he thought that a hustler would be like.
Tim had never asked him for money, although occasionally he would borrow five or ten when things were slow. He always paid it back the next time they met.
Ralph put out the cigarette he'd been smoking and went back to bed. Donna groaned softly as he climbed in along side her, and she snuggled back against him, warming him. He slept.
The next day, Tuesday, Billy looked over the list of things that the detectives had removed from Tim and Doug's apartment. One item particularly interested him; a small notebook with names and addresses, his little black book. He should have known that there would be one. On the list it was mentioned that there were two such books, but the other one belonged to Doug and they hadn't taken it.
Billy thumbed through the book. It was a relatively new perhaps, he thought, the kid got it when he moved to San Francisco. Even so, a lot of the names had been crossed out, a scrawled 'ng' next to them. Must be "no good", he thought. Some of the names had different symbols next to them, some he recognized, but others he didn't. He'd have to ask Doug about them.
As he looked down the list he saw a number, with no name next to it. There was something familiar about the number, but he couldn't think of what it was and he didn't know what the symbol next to it meant - 'PF.
Although he hadn't much felt like it, Doug picked up another fifty dollars on his way back to his apartment after he left Simon's hotel. It had been an easy piece of action. He stopped and had a hot chocolate at the coffee shop on his way home. It was almost ten o'clock Tuesday morning when he climbed into bed.
John waited anxiously for the day to end. He felt certain that he'd hear from Darryl today. Fortunately he was busy, so the time passed quickly.
At Darryl's office it was another matter. Turner had been late, and what had to go out that day wasn't quite ready. Darryl was furious, but more at himself than at Turner. What needed to be done was not Turner's usual task. But the fact that he was late gave Darryl the reason to vent his frustration on him, instead of the person really responsible for the delay.
It was Turner's fault that he was late. He'd forgotten to turn on the alarm on his clock. And with Jamison staying over, he'd overslept his usual wake up time. He knew that what Darryl was complaining about, was not his being late, so he ignored it, and went about his business. When the supplies came in so that the mailing could be processed, he pitched in as though nothing was wrong. He knew that he should have resented Darryl's attitude, but somehow he didn't.
Billy went to the personnel file in the office and scanned them. Not sure exactly what he was looking for; he was still puzzled by the vaguely familiar telephone number in Tim's phone book. He nearly dropped the folder when he spotted the number, it was the emergency number for Donna, it was Ralph's work number. He quickly put the folder back and closed the drawer. He was glad that Donna was out for lunch; he couldn't have dealt with the shock if she'd been there. She'd have guessed something was wrong and asked about it.
Quickly he went back to his desk and proceeded to make notes about the case, he had to get the surprise and shock out of his system before she returned.
Thankfully Donna had stopped to pick up an item on sale while she was out to lunch, not that she really needed another blouse, but it had caught her eye in the paper on Sunday, and when she mentioned it to Ralph, he told her to go ahead and get it.
Billy had gotten himself calmed down, and was typing up a preliminary report to the Chiefs office when she returned. Often he left it for Donna to do, because she was so much faster at the keyboard, but today he needed the diversion.
Ralph was taken surprised when he phone rang and it was Billy.
"Hi, Billy, how are you doing?" Ralph greeted him warmly.
"Hello Ralph," Billy said, trying to find the right words. He was calling from a pay phone down the hall. "Are you free this evening?"
"I guess," he answered, "What's up?"
"We've got to talk, just you and I," Billy said calmly.
"Sound mysterious," Ralph said jokingly.
"Well, just don't tell Donna who you're seeing, okay?" Billy said firmly.
"Sure, I guess I can manage that. What time and where?" Ralph asked sounding a little worried.
"I'll meet you at Sofia's let's say eight, if that's a good time."
"That's fine, what's it all about, Billy"
"We'll talk then, okay?"
"Sure, see you then." Ralph hung up. He thought a moment, and then called Donna. He explained that he'd have to go out to meet a client at eight, so they'd have to eat early. She said that'd be fine. It was not unusual in his business to show a property in the early evening, and she thought nothing of it.
John hurriedly opened the letter with the official looking return address of Darryl's group. He smiled when he read the letter. He was going to get in, he just knew it! It wasn't something that he was going to tell anyone, because of the secrecy involved, but he was excited enough to want to tell someone. He didn't think that Jesse would understand and decided not to tell him until later, if necessary. He knew it wasn't necessary to call Darryl, but he wanted to. Then he realized that he didn't have Darryl's home phone number. Since it was still early, only five-thirty, he dialed the office number on the stationery.
Darryl was just going out the door when the phone rang. After the day that he had just been through he decided against answering it. Whoever it was would just have to call back tomorrow.
John was disappointed when there was no answer. He'd see Darryl the next evening anyway, so it really didn't matter, but he left a message when the machine picked up.
Ralph arrived at Sofia's a few minutes before eight and took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer. He was a bit nervous, as he still couldn't figure out why Billy was being so secretive. He'd just taken a second sip of the pale brew when he saw Billy come in. Dressed in jeans and sweatshirt Billy looked barely thirty. He was handsome by any standards. Tonight, Ralph wondered why he'd never given Billy any thought before, then he remembered, he and Donna worked together, that would be much too close.
Billy waved and sat down next to Ralph. His usual drink arrived moments later.
"I know it's been driving you crazy wondering why I wanted to talk to you privately, Ralph," Billy said.
"Kinda," Ralph tried not to sound too nervous.
"I won't keep you in suspense any longer," Billy paused. "You know that kid whose picture was in the Sunday paper, the one whose body was found in an alley downtown?"
"Yeah," Ralph said, just barely audible.
From the look on his face, Billy knew that he'd struck a nerve. "Your phone number was in his book, Ralph, your work number!"
"I guess I should have known that he'd write it down someplace," Ralph was dejected and his dropped his head slightly.
"Tell me about it, Ralph," Billy said, "I'm handling the case. If there's anything at all you can tell me about it, and if you're honest with me, I think I can keep your name out of the reports."
"There's not much to tell, really," Ralph began.
Doug lay on his bed; he didn't really feel like going out tonight. He was depressed. He looked in his wallet and found Billy's card, he remembered that it had his home number written on the back.
He was disappointed when Jimmy told him that Billy was out. He left his name and told Jimmy that it was important.
Billy listened as Ralph told him the details of how he met Tim and the relationship that he'd had with the hustler. Ralph told Billy that he knew what Tim did for a living, but also that he'd never paid him.
"From what you've told me," Billy said, "You could be a likely suspect. " Billy was not exaggerating, right now, he was the only suspect!
"What?" Ralph raised his voice in a loud whisper.
"That's right," Billy said, "So far, you're the only one we know of who could even possibly have a motive. We only know of a few people, so far, who even knew him." While this was true, others would certainly turn up once he started calling the others in the phone book. He was telling Ralph this to see if there was any other reaction other than surprise and indignation. There wasn't, outside of the panic he was obviously feeling about Donna finding out.
"I can't promise you anything right now," Billy said, adding, "But since there are a lot of names in his book that I haven't called yet, it'll be sometime before I get back to yours." He smiled reassuringly, "So don't worry, just yet. Give me some time to work on this further. I'll keep you posted; I'll let you know when it's time to worry again. Oh, and don't worry, Donna won't know until after I tell you to worry again. I'll give you a chance to prepare her for it."
"Thanks. Billy," Ralph was truly grateful. It would destroy her career if it were even suspected that Ralph was involved. "I won't forget this, I really won't." He finished his beer and started to get up. "Oh, by the way, 1 didn't kill that boy, Billy. I really didn't."
Billy believed him. But was that good enough? Only time would tell.
After Ralph left Billy called home for messages, a practice he'd always made part of his routine, even when he wasn't working on a case.
"Thanks, Jimmy," Billy said, "I'll call you back later." Billy pulled out his wallet and the card with Doug's phone number written on it. He dialed the number.
"Hello?" came the strained voice.
"Hello, Doug, it's me, Billy. What's up?" he tried to sound casual.
"Oh, Billy, thanks for calling back," Doug's voice brightened. "I need to talk to somebody," he said.
"Okay," Billy said, "Shall we meet over your way?"
"I'm not dressed," Doug said, "Can you come here?"
"Sure," Billy said quickly, then regretting it almost immediately, too late to retract it. "I'll be there in fifteen, twenty minutes."
Doug got up quickly and began straightening up the apartment. Then he jumped into the shower. As he was drying off he realized what he was doing. He was getting ready for a trick. Was that was I am doing? he asked himself. He quickly used the dryer on his hair and splashed on cologne.
He pulled out a pair of his skimpiest shorts and a clean pair of socks. Then he sat down on the sofa to wait
Billy parked the car and walked the short distance to Doug's building. He pressed the buzzer opposite Doug's name. He heard the familiar click of the lock opening and he pushed the door inward. It yielded to his shove and he walked up the stairs to Doug's rooms. Again he pressed the buzzer at the door. In a few seconds the door opened.
"I'm sorry to bother you," Doug said as Billy walked in, "But you said to call if I needed someone to talk to."
Billy couldn't help but notice Doug's firm, freshly washed body. Just the sight of him and the lingering scent he wore, sent Billy's body into an uproar. He responded with immediate animal passion.
"I'm glad you called, Doug," he said trying to get himself under control.
"Can I get you anything? A beer?" Doug asked leading the way to the sofa.
"No thanks," Billy said, "I just finished one." Doug motioned for him to sit on the sofa. It was barely big enough for two people to sit on, but there wasn't anything else in the area, so he had no choice, not without being rude.
Doug picked up his pack of cigarettes and offered one to Billy. He accepted it and allowed Doug to light it for him. Doug lighted his own and then sat down next to Billy.
He was turned toward Billy and he was nearly as turned on as Billy was, but his bulge definitely showed more, since all he had on was the too-small pair of briefs.
Billy couldn't take his eyes off them, and Doug could see the beginnings of an erection through Billy tight fitting jeans. Seeing this increased the stimulation in his own groin, causing an even greater enlargement of his nearly hard sex.
"What is it, Doug?" he finally managed to ask.
"I was feeling sort of down, and needed some company," Doug answered, "I knew that you'd understand."
Billy hesitated, "I do understand, Doug, it's natural that you feel down at a time like this." Billy wished that he'd worn something else beside the tight jeans tonight. He could feel his erection pressing against the fabric causing an even greater push for release.
Doug let his eyes drop to Billy crotch and then looked up into Billy's eyes.
"I hope you don't mind coming here. I know it's an imposition on you." Doug said trying to sound nonchalant.
"It's no problem," Billy answered, "I'm glad I'm able to help you, if I can."
"We both have the same problem," Doug said putting one hand on Billy's bulging jeans, and the other on his own shorts.
"Doug!" Billy said, "I don't think that this is a good idea."
"What's the harm?" Doug asked, "We're both adult enough to know what's going on, and what we want."
"That part's true enough," Billy said gently taking Doug's offending hand off his lap. "And if that's all that were going on, I'd say, no problem. But that's not all there is, Doug. I'm a police officer investigating the murder of your roommate and friend, that's make it different." Billy tried to convince himself of what he was saying.
"But you're not working now, are you?" Doug asked.
"No," Billy hesitated "Not officially." That was true, but still.
"Then, where's the problem. You're human, and you have needs like anyone else. And if you're not working, you should forget that you're a policeman."
"I," Billy struggled, "I can't forget."
"I want you, Billy," Doug said leaning forward and pulling Billy close to him. Billy's nostrils filled with the fragrance of Doug's cologne inflaming his passion. Doug's tongue swept through his lips and whisked about his mouth bringing with it the sweet taste of him. Billy was powerless to withstand such an onslaught. His body responded to every stimulation and he yielded to the caresses that poured forth from Doug's being.
To be continued ---
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