Dark Obsessions 2

            His card was tented between my thumb and forefinger when he called my work phone.  It had been only two days since his visit and I'd already missed him terribly.  Hearing his voice was soothing.  I tried to picture what he looked like, sitting before me as he spoke.

            "I'm sorry for calling your work," he said.  "Your home number was not listed."

            "Quite all right, Detective Kennedy," I said.  "I am pleased to hear from you."

            There was a moment of silence before he spoke again.

            "I would like to have another interview with you, if that is possible," he said.

            "Of course," I said and sat up straight in my seat.  The prospect of seeing him again soon made my heart skip a few beats.  My throat went dry and suddenly I felt warm.

            "What would be a good time for you?"

            I looked at the clock on my desk and regarded the stack of papers I was due to finish today.  I shook my head and pushed the papers away.

            "I am free whenever you need me, Detective."

            There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the line.  I heard papers being turned and a short sigh.

            "I have a meeting in an hour.  I can come by to your office after five?"

            "My office's not a good place to speak of official police business," I said.

            Another brief silence and then he suggested meeting at a café on top of the downtown Hilton.  I have never been there but he assured me that he will request for a quiet, enclosed booth for us to speak. 

            "I will be there at five," I said.  "I am looking forward on seeing you again."

            An uncomfortable laugh answered me.  He was not used to his subjects speaking to him with such language. 

            "Likewise," he said.

            His sweet voice still echoed in my ear, even after the dial tone replaced it.

 

The café he had reversed for us was what befitted him.  It was elegantly overpriced for a mere cup of coffee with too many pieces of furniture. It would be a place that I can see him frequent with his equally delicate lady friends.

He was already there when I arrived and I had arrived ten minutes early.  He was sipping coffee from a plain white porcelain cup reading a small stack of paper gathered in a bull clip.  He did not look up until I slid into the bench across from him.

“Oh,” he said and immediately put down his cup and his papers.  “I’m sorry I didn’t hear you come up.”

I smiled and laid the attaché case I had down on its side beside me.

“Not at all,” I said. 

“I’m sorry to have asked you to come out here on your own time.”

I shook my head again.  A woman in a fitted pink uniform came to our table and inquired about my drink.  I ordered a black coffee and Leon shook his head when she looked at him.  As soon as she left, Leon’s face suddenly changed.  He was suddenly serious, the smile gone from his face.

“I was informed that you sent a fax over to Mr. Sparda shortly before he disappeared.  Why?”

“I wish to discuss the audit he had done on my department.”

“You do not have the capacity to make such a request, by your duty title.”

“That was why I had asked to speak to him privately.  He had made a … negative assessment against the department whose chief I am friends with.”

“And what would have you discussed?”

“A re-assessment.  Nothing more.”

He grew quiet again, when the woman came back with my coffee and placed it down carefully before me.  He said nothing until we were left alone again.

“You were the only suspect on this case, so far,” he said.  “Convince me why it should be otherwise.”

I shrugged.

“That is for you to prove, no? Detective?”

“You said you never met with him.”

“No.  I assume you checked my alibis.”

“Yes.  But those alibis are shaky.  Those men admitted they had been drinking all night.”

I shrugged.

“I welcome you to look through my home, if you wish.”

He leaned back.  He didn’t expect that.

“I don’t think the crime happened in your home,” he finally said.

“And you looked through my friend’s bar.”

“I did.”

I took a sip from the coffee.  It was good, but it was hardly worth the $10 it was listed for.

“So what would you like for me to tell you, Detective? You know as much as I do.”

He frowned.

“I doubt it.”

“Your intuition?” I smiled.

He seemed to be speechless for a moment.  Then the woman who had served us came to our table.

“Mr. Kennedy? There is a call for you.”

He appeared confused but he nodded and apologized to me and followed the woman to the courtesy phone.  I smiled.  My friend had done exactly as instructed, on time. 

I opened my attaché and retrieved a small vial of the Rohypnol I had purchased two hours ago. I mixed it into his drink and stirred it, then tucked the empty vial back into my case.  I waited for a few more minutes than he returned.

“Sorry about that,” he said.  He said nothing more about the call although I am sure my friend’s call must have puzzled him.

“What have you known about my friend that owns the bar? Have you looked into his background?”

He picked up the spoon on his saucer and stirred the coffee.

“Are you implying he knew what happened?”

“Not at all.  I am merely asking if you looked at everyone.”

He laid the spoon down and took a sip of the coffee.  He looked at it for a second than added a little more creamer into the coffee.

“Would you like to save both of us trouble and just tell me what you know?”

He stirred the coffee a little more and downed more of it.  I grinned inwardly.

“There is a thug by the name of Remus,” I said and took a sip from my own cup.  “Do you know him?”

He shook his head.

“He frequents that bar.  A friend of mine said Remus was planning on visiting the bar the night it closed – and he might have met with Dante when he had come by.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Some people prefer not to be involved.  Remus’ connected to the local mob.”

“So far you gave me theories.  There’s no evidence this man snatched Dante.”

“Evidence and eye witnesses disappear when the mob’s involved.”

I looked down at my watch.  I would need to keep him around for at least another twenty minutes.  So I told him what I knew about Remus.  At least some details were true.

 

“Just….put me in a cab…” he said softly.  I had walked him toward the elevator, under the watchful eyes of the passing café customers.  “I’ll…be fine.”

“I’ll take you home,” I said.  “You might pass out in the cab.”

He fumbled for his cell phone in his pocket.  I know he was probably trying to call someone to pick him up.  His eyes were glazed over and unfocused.  His fingers barely can hold onto the phone.

I took the phone from him and shook my head.

“I am here and I will take you home.  No need to call and wait for someone.”

“I…can’t…” More of his weight slumped into my arms.  He was slipping into unconsciousness. 

The elevator came and opened, we stepped in.  Rather, I stepped in and pulled him along.  The bellman in the elevator frowned.

“Should I call 911?”

I shook my head.

“He’ll be fine,” I said in a whisper.  “He is just feeling woozy from forgetting his medication.  Please take us to the level 2 parking garage please.”

He looked uncertain but he stabbed the L2 button that lit up.

Leon’s eyes were already half lidded by the time we reached the parking.  I pulled him along, his feet barely even carrying weight, toward my car.  After I situated him into the passenger side, I had to smoke half a cigarette to calm myself down. 

I have him.  

I looked through his pockets and found his license bearing his address and the bundle of his keys.  He had become unconscious by the time we left the garage.

I drove to my home first and parked in my garage and closed it.   I contemplated on bringing him inside but I knew it was not wise to do so.  Instead, I turned on the interior car light – dim but sufficient, and worked to remove his jacket. 

            I ran my fingers through his hair, savoring the silky feelings of them between my fingers.  He was beautiful.  I loosened the Windsor knot and pulled the navy blue-colored tie from around his neck.  My hands were trembling as I undid the top button of his shirt.  Although only a little of his collar bone can be seen - seeing the milk-white flesh aroused me.  I had to lean back and away for a few moments to stop myself from cumming.

            I pushed his seat back as far as it will go and let the back roll back until it was nearly flat down.  Then slowly, gently - I pressed the buttons through the slits until his shirt was undone.  I pulled the rest that had been tucked into his belt line and let the shirt splay open.  A tentative touch at his belly - carefully, like I was studying an expensive piece of art.  His body was firm - athletic.

    Tips of my fingers flicked at the small maroon-colored nipples and traced the shapes of the areolas- stimulating them and filling them with blood. The little nabs hardened nicely.  I gave them small, careful licks – nothing harder so there would be marks left behind.  I would like to bite into them, hard enough to draw blood but this would be too soon. I risk losing him if I was impatient.

            I cupped his crotch and thumbed the bulge tucked in there.  For now, I would have to be content with just feeling him and smelling the soft scent of him.  I undid my pants and pressed his hand over it – his slightly calloused hands, perhaps from his firearms, was maddenly wonderful.  My hand wrapped around his until his palm held my cock.  I licked at his nipples again, as I pumped his hand over my erection.  I barely pulled away in time to catch my cum in a hand towel I had readied near by. 

            After I catch my breath and tucked myself back in, I cleaned his hand and chest with a moist towelette.  He can’t know about my obsession. Not yet.  I dressed him with great reluctance then kissed him on his lips.

            “Someday soon, you will learn to do that with your lovely mouth,” I said to him. 

            With a deep sigh, I looked at the address on his license.  I would have to take him back to his home now.

 

            On the way back to his address, I had made copies of each key he had.  I was not certain which ones were his house keys. It didn’t matter. I would have access to everything he had.

 

            He had lived in an apartment in a gated community.  One of the keys had been for the manual unlock, in case the key card had been forgotten.  The community was well kept, complete with manicured lawns and a scalloped shaped water fountain.  There was a worn wooden signage that said the complex name was “Valencia”.  The gray and white buildings were closely knitted together with perhaps six feet cobble stone paths between each building.

            Dear Mr. Kennedy lived in the sixth of the eight building spread, on the first floor.  It was dusk by the time I found his apartment and pulled into an empty parking spot a few feet from his building.  Although there weren’t many people about, I didn’t want to take any chances.  I got out of the vehicle and located the exact apartment first, then went through the bundle of keys until I unlocked the door.  After I was certain I was in the right place and there was no one in the apartment, I fetched him from the car.  There were some inquisitive glances but no one said or did anything.  There were no reasons to.

            I laid him down on his bed and set out to explore his apartment.  I studied it, taking careful mental notes of the layout.  The apartment was standard.  A small kitchen connected to a dining room that also doubled as the living room.  A small room that he had set up as an office next to the master bedroom.  The bathroom that was connected to the master bedroom.  There were windows in each room except for the bathroom.  There was a thick plexi-glassed sliding door between the kitchen and the dining room.  A quick search through the keys and I found it amongst the bundle.

            “This is too easy,” I said to myself as I went to the master bedroom to check on Leon.  He was still unconscious.  The temptation to touch him again was over powering.  I consoled myself with removing his jacket and shoes.  I undid his tie and top two buttons of his shirt.  Instead of tucking him into the bed, I folded the duvet over him.  I left the light on and wrote him a simple note and left it on the kitchen table.