Slasher

Chapter 9

Unfortunately the second time was when David was slipping into bed beside me and my overactive imagination took the movement of the bed to be the Slasher who had been stalking my dreams.

I bolted upright with a shout on my lips. I came fully awake to find David hovering over me, looking both solicitous and pissed off at the same time.

"Just what were you doing tonight, Chris?" he asked.

His voice was surprisingly gentle, but there was a light in his eyes I didn't like one bit. I immediately got defensive.

"Nothing. Had a quiet evening, talked to some old friends. That's all --"

"Bullshit." He crossed his arms over his barrel chest. His shirt strained at the seams. "I thought I told you to stay away from those web sites."

I shrugged and sullenly looked away from him. He took my chin in his big hand and forced me to meet his eyes.

"Chris, I'm not just trying to be dictatorial here. This stuff affects even professionals. Sex crimes are always the hardest to deal with. Ask any cop."

"I don't --"

"And we get counseling for this shit." David leaned in closer. I could feel his warm breath on my face. "You really want to start paying some shrink a hundred and fifty a pop just because you're having nightmares?"

"I am not having nightmares."

He rolled his eyes. "Honey, I just about had to peel you off the ceiling two minutes ago. Don't bullshit a bullshit artist. I know flat-out terror when I see it. Someone was walking around in your dreams who wasn't very nice. And it wasn't Freddy Krueger."

I decided to change tactics. "Then you don't want to know what I found out?"

I actually thought he was going to say no, then a new look came over his face, as though it had never occurred to him I might actually discover something. I should have been pissed, but I was just thankful to have that lighthouse gaze turned off and have his normal loving brown eyes looking at me.

"Find? What did you find?"

"I think I know where Robert Anstrom was picked up."

"What?"

"You heard. But if you don't want to know, then I'm cool with that too --"

"Knock off the drama queen routine, Chris. If you know something, tell me."

That stung. I threw myself out of the bed and stomped past him into the den where the two computers were still running side by side.

Now I was pissed. He had no right to treat me like a child. It was one thing to try to protect me, it was another to dictate to me. I loved the man, but he didn't own me.

There was a part of me that knew my anger was coming from fear and loathing. And not for David. I hadn't wanted to look, but once I had I'd understood David's growing obsession with stopping this lunatic. So why the hell couldn't David respect me for that?

I dragged open the laptop and woke it up. I'd left Lee's graphic program running and it only took a second to call up the image of Robert in the motel room that had yielded the clue I'd finally seen.

"Our own lab guys have been over these, too."

"Yeah," I muttered. "But are they gay? Do they understand the life-style? Do they know what they're even looking at half the time?"

"No, probably not. What's your point?"

"Did you notice what Anstrom was wearing?"

"Yeah, I think --"

"It wasn't full regalia," I said impatiently, knowing full well he hadn't seen it. "But the man was in leather. That made me think he met the Slasher in a leather club, which has to narrow down your list of search areas. Then I saw this..."

I zoomed in on the thing I had spotted and using a cropping tool, cut the picture so that all the extraneous crap was cut. Then I visually enhanced the image and sharpened the already clear detail. Finally it sprang into clear focus. A matchbook with a single, partial word on it, black on gray. But once I'd known where Anstrom had been I could easily figure out the rest. I looked triumphantly at David.

"There. The Cave. It has to be. It's a leather bar. On Santa Monica, near --"

"I know where it is." Off my surprised look David scowled. "I had another case involving assault there. No one else would go near the place so I got elected. The Cave, huh?"

"So was it worth the trauma?"

David put his big paws on my shoulder. "Nothing is worth that. I mean it, Chris. This isn't something to fool around with."

"Not even catching a killer?"

"Why are you so determined to do this? Because you knew one of the vics?"

"Yes - no, I don't know! Because he needs to be stopped. You said so yourself."

"Lots of killers need to be found and put away. We got one over on Doheny, hit and run, killed a nineteen year old and her little girl. You want to work on that one too? Or how about the drive by on Western a couple of days ago? There were three dead there. Or there's a domestic. We're not sure if it's the husband or the oldest son; both of them have issues --"

"Stop it."

"What is it about his one, Chris? Tell me."

"I don't know."

"Then will you please leave it." David gave me a hard kiss on the mouth. "Stop messing with it and leave it to the professionals."

He moved back into the bedroom and I started following him until he reemerged carrying his shoes. I froze.

"David?"

"Sorry, honey, I have to go. You're right about one thing. This --" He pointed toward the den. "Is important. I still have a couple of hours before the bars close. I can see who was working that night and maybe see if anyone remember seeing anything. Maybe Anstrom was a regular. One can only hope."

"Take me with you."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I can't do that." David scrubbed at old acne scars on his face. "This is police business. Besides, why would you want - -"

"I used to go there." I hadn't really intended to tell David about that period in my life. I was a lot younger and not interested in attachments so I had taken to hanging out among the rougher trade; figuring the sex would be fast, furious and plentiful. I'd been right about all three, but hadn't realized until months later how empty it also was. By then I'd had dozens of nameless guys up my ass and had gone from feeling dirty to outright defilement. The period of self-flagellation that followed hadn't been any prettier than the one when my slutty behavior had me saying yes to anyone who asked.

If the Slasher had been around then, would I have ended up on the slab in the city morgue instead of Anstrom?

"It was a few years ago," I added, not liking the look he was giving me. "I don't know how much of the old crowd still goes there, but I thought I heard one of the bartenders was still around."

A bartender who had fucked me more than once in their cramped back room, but I didn't see a need to impart that info.

"Since you would probably just follow me if I said no, then I guess you can come. Just don't get involved. Tell me if anyone looks familiar, but otherwise stay out. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good."

We took his Echo and less than fifteen minutes later slid into a curbside parking spot three doors down from the Cave.

Frm the outside it didn't look like much. Plain, dark brick and a door curtained with a heavy black cloth. The instant we were inside I could smell the old reek of spilled beer, sweat, stale sex and amyl nitrate. I'd forgotten about that. Poppers were still all the rage in places like this. Great, was David going to assume I'd done that too? He'd be right if he did, but I'd rather he didn't know that.

The interior of the club was deliberately dark and secretive. Cave-like. The only light came from dim wall sconces and a pair of dirty fluorescents above the bar. The bartender was a tall, narrow-hipped guy in full leather, including a peaked hat on the same hairless head. I remember he had never taken that hat off, not even when he bent me over in the back room and filled me full of his thick six inches.

What the hell was his name? Larry? Harry? I half hoped he wouldn't remember me.

No such luck. The minute his faded brown eyes latched onto me they narrowed in recognition. Then he offered me a grinning smirk.

"Well hello, skinny." For some reason he had always called me that. Maybe because it was too much trouble to learn my name. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Chapter 10

Then his eyes skated over to David and went instantly flat. Which wasn't surprising; David had cop written all over him. He also wasn't obviously gay, so it always created a moment of confusion when we walked into gay bars together for a drink, which we'd been doing more often now that David was no longer trying to keep his secret.

Tonight the confusion was justified, since David was here on business. He flashed Gerry? Cary? his shield and signaled him to follow us to the end of the bar. The other bar patrons had taken in the exchange and were eyeing David warily. I saw a couple begin to sidle toward the exit. David must have seen them too.

He held up his hand and without looking at them, said, "Hold on a minute, folks. I may have a few questions for everyone. Just stay put for the time being."

"Do we have to?" one belligerent, harnessed and chapped guy who couldn't have been more than five-six snapped. "Are you arresting us?"

"No, unless I have a reason to arrest you." David studied the man. "Which I may have if you leave and force me to follow you to find out why."

The man slid back onto his barstool and grabbed his drink.

David turned back to the bartender. He handed him a five by eight picture. "You remember seeing this guy in here?"

The bartender looked at the picture and I could see the blood drain from his already pale face. Even so, at first I thought he was going to deny knowing Anstrom, then he nodded.

"Jesus, it's Toddy."

"Toddy?" David's eyes narrowed.

The bartender shrugged. "It's what we called him. Ain't seen him in, oh, two months or so. Something happen to him?"

Even I could tell the guy was lying, but David didn't so much as blink. Now, after eleven months I think I'm pretty good at reading my man, but in this he was a complete cipher. It began to come home to me just how much of a second life he led away from our little love nest.

I was still trying to remember the bartender's name when David dropped the pictures on the bar and pulled out his notebook.

"Who am I talking to?"

"Barry Lakowski. Why are you looking for Toddy?"

"How often did Toddy come in here, Barry?"

"Few times a month." Barry took to wiping the counter top with a rag. His eyes kept scanning the room, coming to rest on me after each sweep before settling briefly back on David. "He wasn't what I'd call a regular. Not like some of the guys."

"What would you call him, then, Barry? You knew his name."

"He was a talkative guy," Barry said. "Always shooting his mouth off about what he was doing that week. About how Hollywood was just waiting for him."

"Was he a player, then?" David asked.

"Aren't they all?"

"I don't really care about the others, Barry. I want to know about Toddy. What was he? An actor?"

I wondered where that came from. I don't remember hearing anything about Anstrom being an actor. Was David trying to link him with Bobby? Could that be why they'd both been chosen?

"How'd you know that?" Barry stopped wiping and frowned. "Only he wasn't going to be an actor. With Toddy it was directing. He saw himself as the next Ron Howard."

"He have any talent? Every direct anything?"

Barry smirked and his eyes slid over me. "His talent was in his ass, if you'll pardon my French. Or should I say Greek?" The smirk grew. "If he had any talent I never saw it. If he ever did any directing he kept it to himself."

David fingered the picture of Anstrom. All the while he watched Barry. "What he'd do when he wasn't dreaming and working on his social skills here?"

"How should I know. I knew him 'cause he came in here often enough for me to recognize his face. I seen the guys he left with. Knew what he fancied. What he did outside of here, I don't know --"

"Who'd he fancy, Barry? Tell me the type of guy Toddy would go home with."

"Money and actors. I think Toddy was trying to put together a package. Said he had a script -- and before you ask, no I never seen it - and he wanted to cast it and find some cash to get it made. Swore it would break down the gates of Paramount studio if he could produce this thing." Another shrug. "I always figured he was blowing it out his ear."

"When was the last time you saw him in here? I want dates and times. Think hard, Barry."

Barry paused to pour another beer for harness and chaps down the bar. He went back to wiping the counter. His face screwed up in thought. It looked like it hurt.

"Maybe four weeks ago. Five at the most. He came in... going on about this script he had that was so ready to go then he hooked up with this guy and the next thing I know they're out the door. He looked happier than a hooker at a Republican convention."

"What did the guy look like, Barry? Was he a regular?"

"Nah, never seen him before. What's going on? Does this have something to do with Toddy not coming back? Did he get in trouble?"

"Did the guy he left with look like trouble?" David looked around the bar as though seeing it for the first time. "Did he fit in here? Or did he obviously not belong?"

"He wasn't in leather, if that's what you mean. He was expensively dressed. Lot's of name brand shit and jewelry. I remember thinking Toddy would get lucky with this one. Maybe he'd get some money for his movie. Could be why he looked so happy."

"What color was he, Barry? Hair? Eyes?"

"Geez, you expect me to remember that after all this time? You still ain't told me what happened to Toddy."

"Ever hear the name Robert Anstrom?"

Barry shrugged.

David tapped the picture on the bar. "That's Robert Anstrom. You say it was around four, five weeks ago. Would it have been on a Friday? The twenty-third of May?"

"Could have been. It was pretty busy as I recall and we're always hopping on Fridays. Robert Anstrom? I still don't get --"

"What about these guys?" David flipped four more pictures on the bar. These were obviously morgue shots, whereas the one for Anstrom had been a live shot -- David had picked it up from Anstrom's roommate once they'd IDed him.

Now Barry backed away hastily. His eyes bugged out at the images of the dead men.

"What about Louis McCaffrey. Donald Blake. Jeff --"

"Who are these guys?"

"They're all dead men, Barry. So's Robert Anstom, better known to you as Toddy. You hear of the Gay Slasher?"

Barry's face was the color of cheese curds. His eyes were glassy. "That guy I saw Toddy with?"

"Might be the man we're looking for. So if you have anything you can give me, I would appreciate it. So I can stop this guy and make sure he doesn't kill anyone again."

"What's it matter to you?" Barry's voice was heavy with bitterness. "What another dead faggot to the LAPD?"

I slipped my hand into David's and snugged my hip up against his. I met Barry's gaze squarely.

"It means a lot to this cop. Trust me, Barry. Trust him."

"You're hooked up with him? You?"

"Yeah, me. Eleven months now."

"Er, right. A gay cop, huh?" Barry's eyes narrowed. "Now I seen it all. I still don't remember much. The guy was white, I can say that for sure. But he wore a hat and kept it pulled down over his head so I never saw his face all that clear. Jesus, you think that was the Slasher?"

"I couldn't say with much certainty. We just would like a chance to talk to anyone who saw Mr. Anstrom around that time."

"The Slasher," Barry mused. "It shows you can never tell, don't it? I mean the guy didn't look like much. Didn't look like he was strong enough to swat flies, let alone kill someone."

David tapped the pictures on the bar. "Seen any of these guys in here."

"I don't think -- no. Never."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"So, why do you remember this guy so clearly?" David leaned over the bar. Getting right into Barry's face. "If it's like you said and he only came in the one time, why do you remember him so well?"

Barry seemed uneasy, but I could tell he was telling the truth this time. Maybe hearing that the Slasher had been in his bar, selecting his victim unnerved him. Or maybe it was David.

"'Cause he didn't fit in," Barry said. "Most guys come in, see what the place is like, and split. Or they want to show how they're not going to let anything bother them they come in, have a drink, then leave. This guy starts cruising before he's barely through the door. He zeroed in on Toddy pretty quick, almost like he knew the guy."

[More to come]

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