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Who's Afraid of Joe Vincente?
A Kenneth Hall Mystery
Chapter 2
Ken arrived at the precinct just as Sal was leaving with his lawyer, or more accurately, Joe Vincente's lawyer.
"Hi Sal," he said.
Sal gave Ken a smirky smile, and said nothing.
"I'm really sorry for the inconvenience," Ken said sincerely. Now that he knew that Sal was his bodyguard, as well as Joe's, his attitude took a new route.
Sal was so shocked by Ken's apparent sincerity that all he could do was mumble, "Sure."
Ken headed straight to Lt. Morton's office. He went right in without knocking. "Fill me in," he said quietly, hoping it wouldn't sound like a command.
Morton glowered at Ken. For some reason he seemed to be a little exasperated. "Look," he said, "the body is in autopsy. It'll be several hours before we get a report, so why don't you take the afternoon off, go home, get a good night's sleep, and come back tomorrow, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to do your thing."
Ordinarily Ken would have ignored Morton's request, but anticipating a night of pleasure with his long-time fantasy lover, he said, "Good idea, Boss. I'll see you tomorrow."
"One more thing," Morton said, "the boys found a ticket stub near the body. It's for a hit musical. The ticket was for a performance at the 46th Street Theater last week. It might not be anything, but the forensic geeks are working on it now."
Ken didn't answer. He just headed out the building. As soon as he was outside, he called Joe. "I'm through for the day," he said. "I'll be at The Beacon Hotel in fifteen minutes."
"I'll be there in ten."
"Good, get us a room."
"I'll register as Joseph Jones," Joe said.
Ken burst into Room 208. Joe was naked. Ken hadn't seen him naked since high school circle jerk days. He could only stare at his lover in admiration. Joe was six feet tall, and his muscles had muscles. Ken thought that he must work out a lot. He did. He had his own gym in the basement of his brownstone. Of course, Ken's eyes went straight to Joe's cock. It was fully erect at the moment, and obviously uncut. It stretched out about eight fat inches of beauty.
Ken began to rip his clothes off, and now it was Joe's turn to gawk. Ken was six feet, two inches, and every bit as muscular as Joe. His job required him to be in top-notch shape and health. He too was uncut, and just about the same size as Joe.
When the men were finished staring at their cocks, they fell into a passionate embrace. Their tongues began to tickle and copulate, as each tried to reach deep down the other's throat.
When he came up for air, Joe said. "I have wanted to do this since forever. I love you, Ken."
"I love you too," Ken said, "but we're talking too much. I want to make love to you, and give reality to my dreams."
They fell on the bed in a sixty-nine position, and sucked each other slowly and sensuously. When Ken felt Joe's balls hardening and shrinking, he stopped their activity. "Would you like to fuck?" he asked.
"Of course," Joe said. "I came prepared. I've got lube and condoms in that carry-on bag over there."
"I hate those things. Let get tested soon, and give them up."
"I hate them too. Yes, let's get tested soon."
By saying what they just did, they had committed to each other, but they didn't realize it at that moment.
Joe fucked Ken first in the missionary position, and then Ken fucked Joe doggie style. They each spent nearly an hour in foreplay, giving each other trips around the world that neither of them would ever forget. When it was over, they lay facing each other, fondling and caressing.
"That was the most intense orgasm I ever had," Ken said.
"Yes, me too," Joe agreed. "What jerks we were to wait this long."
"Well, better late than never."
They continued to bask in the afterglow, when Ken's phone rang. It was on the night stand, and he glanced at it.
"It's my boss," he mumbled.
"You better answer it quickly. When I call one of my guys, I expect an instant response, or else," Joe said, and he broke out laughing.
"Hi Boss," Ken said. "I thought you gave me the evening off."
"I did, and you can still carouse, or whatever you're doing, but I thought I'd fill you in on something. Forensics has examined that ticket stub. They lifted a finger print and somebody's DNA, but neither of them are in any of our data bases. If the stub was indeed dropped by this perp, he has no police record, and has never served in the military. All we have to do is figure out who attended the show. I understand that about two hundred people were there. Kinda narrows it down, doesn't it?" Morton asked facetiously. "Well, I'll see you in the morning. Have a good evening."
After Ken hung up, Joe said, "Let's get out of this flea trap. I'll take you to Vincent's Copper Kettle for dinner, and then we'll go to my place. I want to spend the night with you, and sleep with you."
"I sure as hell have no objection, but I thought your place was out of bounds."
"Sal is the only one who would be there, and I told you, he knows about me. You're openly gay and you're under my protection. Sal's a lot smarter than he looks. He figured it out, and he asked me point blank one day. I told him that I was gay, and that you and I had never done anything together, but I wish we would."
"Aren't you afraid that he will try to blackmail you or extort money from you?"
"I can't imagine that he would do that. Besides, I've made up my mind that if anyone ever tried to blackmail me over being gay, I would come out. I have enough money and enough legitimate businesses to see the both of us through several lifetimes."
"Us?" Ken asked.
"Of course, us, dufus."
"Blackmail or not, I wish you would do that."
"Do what?"
"Go legit."
Joe didn't answer, but he smiled and stroked Ken's cheek.
"I'm going to prove to you that everything I do, or ever did, is legal, except the drugs, and I got out of that business year ago. I swear Ken, I operate all my businesses within the law. I am legit. Please believe me."
"I told you, Baby; I'll never doubt you again."
They dressed, and Joe paid the bill. They took a cab to the restaurant, and in the cab, Joe called Sal to let him know what was going on.
"I'll meet you at the restaurant," Sal said.
"That isn't necessary."
"I say it is. I don't want you in a public place without my protection."
"Okay then. I'll see you there. I'll get us a table for three."
"And Boss, I'm glad for you. That cop is very good looking, and he's a nice guy."
Joe smiled and hung up.
At the restaurant the staff fawned all over Joe, who owned the place. Their exceptional attention extended over to Ken, who enjoyed what was going on. The maître d' took them to a quiet corner table that sat four, but he had the waiter set up for three. Ken and Joe sat across the table from each other.
"Let's have a drink while we're waiting for Sal," Joe said. He waved to the waiter, who came running over. He ordered a scotch straight up for Ken and a scotch with branch water for himself.
"I'm not much of a drinker," Ken said. "Sip slow."
They both nursed their drinks, while Joe kept smiling at Ken, and telling him how happy he was, how he couldn't believe their good fortune, and on and on. All Ken could do was to smile back. Joe was about to order a second drink when he realized that they had been in the restaurant for nearly an hour.
"Sal should have been here by now," he said. He was worried and expressed his concern to Ken.
Out of pure instinct, Ken got out of his chair, which faced the wall, and sat down, in the chair meant for Sal. Now both his back and Joe's were against the wall, and they both had a full view of the restaurant.
The waiter came over, and asked if they would like some hors d'oeuvres while waiting for Mr. Galli.
"We might as well order," Joe said.
They both ordered minestrone soup. Ken ordered lasagna and Joe ordered veal parmesan. They were just finishing up their spumoni, which they had ordered for dessert, when the maître d' came running up to the table. He was ashen and could barely speak.
"Take a deep breath," Ken said, "and tell us what happened."
One of the waiters took some garbage to the dumpster in the alley behind the restaurant, and, and, and..."
"And what?" Joe asked, in fear of what he was about to hear."
"There's a dead body lying near the dumpster. It's a really big guy. I think it's Mr. Galli."
Joe gave out a muffled cry, and Ken asked if the police had been called.
"Yes, they're on the way. Why don't you two wait for them in my office?"
"Good idea," Ken said.
In the maître d's private office, Joe clung to Ken. He was sobbing. Ken said to him. "Now, I've got to become your body guard."
"What do you mean?"
"Obviously someone is out to get you. First the guy commits two murders using the same MO attributed to you, whether it's true or not. When that doesn't get you arrested, he kills two people who are near and dear to you using the same MO. Don't you see? Someone is trying to hurt you."
"But if that's true, my love, then you are near and dear to me, and that makes you a target also."
Joe was right, of course. When Ken realized that he had become the hunted instead of the hunter, he shivered. He was still shaking, when he got a call from his boss, advising him to meet him at Vincent's Copper Kettle where there had been another murder.
"I'm already here," he said. "I was having dinner here."
When Lt. Morton arrived, he was only mildly surprised to see Ken and Joe together. He knew that in spite of their rivalry, they were old friends. He could also see that Joe was virtually inconsolable.
"I'm sorry," he said to Joe, "but I would like you to identify the body before the boys take it to the morgue."
It had already been determined that Sal had been killed by a single gunshot to the head, and that both his knees had been shot away. Based on the previous autopsies, the medical examiner had concluded that the knee wounds were inflicted post mortem. That was lucky for the victims. Their deaths had been instantaneous, caused by a single bullet to the head, which was fired at close range from the rear.
"There's nothing more you can do here for now," Morton said to Ken. "Why don't you take Mr. Vincente home? I'll wrap up here and I'll see you in the morning."
"I think I'd better stay with Joe tonight. He's pretty shook up. I'll ask the maître d' to get us a cab," Ken said. He was about to leave the restaurant and wait for the cab outside, when one of the cops ran in looking for Lt. Morton.
"Look what we found near the body. It's a ticket stub."
Ken and his boss examined the stub. It was the other half of the stub found at the previous crime scene. "The perp never went to that show," Morton observed, "but he had a ticket and left one half at each murder scene."
"He's trying to tell us something, but what?" Ken asked. "I don't think he's trying to tell you anything," Joe said. "I think he's taunting you with a red herring, just like shooting off the victims' knee caps. I have to tell you something that may be pertinent. The ticket is for a musical called `Mardi Gras'. I have invested heavily in that show."
That gave the two detectives something to think about as the cab came up to the front of the restaurant.
When Joe and Ken got to Joe's place, they stood in the foyer and double locked the front door. Ken drew his pistol, and ordered Joe to stand right behind him. They went from room to room. Ken looked under every bed, in every closet, and in every bathroom. He made sure all the windows were locked. When he left each room, he yelled, "Clear."
As upset as he was, Joe smiled inwardly, thinking that this was just like a TV show.
They were both so exhausted that they collapsed fully clothed on Joe's bed, and they fell asleep. Because they were sleeping so deeply, they failed to hear the sound of scratching on the basement door.
Someone was trying to break into the house through the cellar entrance.
To be continued ...