Tears of Blood, Ch. 8

Ray left the campus not only upset over the death of Manuel, but also from the lack of understanding it. He didn’t quite know to break the news to Ben but called him from their car phone anyway. He answered on the third ring.

“Hey baby,” his ‘better’ half answered. Out of all the options Ray had put on Ben’s digital phone when he got it for him, the one he liked best was the Caller ID. “What’s my man up to?”

“Ben, is Aubrey joining us for dinner?”

“I haven’t asked him yet, what time will you be ready and I’ll let him know.”

“I’m ready now, but I want to talk more than eat, I’d really like it to just be us.”

“What’s wrong, what did I do?”

“It’s nothing like that. Don’t worry. I know how you hate it when I tell you I want to talk but you have to wait, but I really want to tell you in person.”

“I’m on the way there now, it’s just a few blocks. I’ll get us a table and a couple-long neck Buds, OK? Please be careful…you sound shook-up.”

“I am, but I’ll be all-right. Try to get a table in the corner.”

Ray swung the Cherokee around the corner onto King Street just in time to pull into a space being vacated by another car. Hope the next hour goes as smooth as finding a parking space.

“I am looking for Ben Dawson’s table, please,” He told the man at the door.

Ray was taken to the table where Ben was waiting with the most troubled eyes he had ever seen on his partner’s face. “Ben,” he began, as he started tearing up, “I love you so much, and am so thankful for every minute we have together.” He looked into Ben’s eyes that had to begin to tear as well.

“Baby I am going to ask you one more time, what is wrong? My brain is about to explode thinking of the millions of things you could say that will wreck my or your or our lives.”

“Manuel Castillo is dead. He was murdered. He was stuck in a world that would not let him celebrate his life with the man he loved the way we do. He was just as much imprisoned in this world as Sade was in Charenton or the Bastille or any of the other places his family tried to hide him or cure him. Kinda like the way Manuel’s family thought that college would do the same thing to him…the way all the gay guys in that school have been closed up behind walls that try to change their way of free thinking and closeting their true selves in the bedroom.”

“What are you saying baby, that Manuel was the Marquis Killer?”

“No. He phoned me today and said he had a photograph of himself and his best friend who has been missing for two days.” Ray slid the open envelope to Ben, who opened it and recognized Manuel standing next to a young man with his head back chugging a can of beer. Around the two of them somebody had a drawn a heart with a magic marker. “This is the picture. His ‘best friend’ was his boyfriend. After he called I took maybe ten minutes to get ready and Darryl handed me this on the way out and said a guy dropped it off about 10 minutes before I picked it up. I didn’t open it till I was on the way over here, and it all came together.”

“How did the killer know Manuel talked?”

“He didn’t. Manuel killed himself.” His hands were not bound. He wrapped up his face and the phone with the duct tape, placed the note to me on his head, and then placed a final piece over his nose to suffocate himself. There were no bruises, scratches, marks of restraint, nothing. No signs of struggle. There wasn’t one. He just couldn’t take it anymore. Remember on the club’s patio when Manuel told us he didn’t see how those guys took it so long, a life with out love? We thought he was referring to prostitutes, and was referring to the guys he new that had to remain closeted, like him. Ben we have to find this guy in the picture with him. I know he is our killer.”

“I believe you, and I have never loved you more. And I am so proud that we don’t have to live that way.” Ben finished his sentence just as the waiter brought their food. “Add a bottle of champagne,” he concluded, and smiled at Ray.

Ray cocked his head a little to the right, and a tad forward.

“And a Budweiser for my better half,” he added, very dryly.

Ray smiled back. He loved his Budweiser.

The view of the beach from the balcony of the Middleton Suite at the Folly Beach Bed and Breakfast was different this evening. There was beauty in the sunset, yet the sadness of the end of a day. It was the bitter dessert to the dinner Ben and Ray had shared: the talk of the lovers who lived in pain.

Startled, they turned around to see fireworks going off from the other side of the beach house, or more beach mansion that had been converted into a B&B. The aerial display began with small Roman candles and built to a spectacular flower bursts over the whole beach.

“Ray,” Ben said, “I have been doing a lot of thinking. I know I am your Master, and you are a willing submissive to me, but I have to tell you something. You have done a remarkable job on this case, from finding clues to putting together this scenario. I love you, and I don’t think I have given you the respect you deserve. I have spoken for you and over you. This may be fine in our personal relationship and one in our club life, but in our professional life you will be my partner from now on.” The couple began walking toward the stairs that led down onto the beach.

“I love you, Sir, and I don’t want to take anything away from you. Everything that I do, I do for your pleasure and to ease your work.” The foam of the waves rolled across their feet as they walked along the line that separated the wet sand from the dry.

“And I appreciate it, and I want everyone to know what you do and let them know of your abilities. I don’t want to take anything from you either. Ben stretched his long arm and pointed to the stand from where the fireworks were being shot.

“Do you think they take requests? I like deep red bursts. You know the ones that end in purple?” Ray asked.

“I’ll find out, just for you, baby.”

Ray stood on the beach with the water rippling over his feet while his lover went to go see what type of fireworks were planned for the evening, when the next display was shot directly at Ben. Two more shots of flaming color were undoubtedly aimed in Ben’s way, not mistakes. Ray darted toward the staircase leading to the pier from where the fireworks were being launched and was met by a man than stared for one or two seconds before jumping to the beach and running off.

“Can you see him Ray?” Ben called out into the dark.

“No! He went into the trees!”

“Damn,” Ben exclaimed.

“Ben, you’d better come over here.

“Where are you?”

“Up here, where the guy was launching the fireworks.” Ben found Ray as he came into the light. In front of him was another face down nude body, with the burned out remains of an aerial firework display wedged in its buttocks. Ben pulled out a Maglite and inspected the section of the body mentioned. “What the hell was he thinking?” Ray took Ben’s flashlight and leaned over the body.

“Damn this is one sick fucker,” Ben said in a heavy exhale.

“Yeah, he has been through a lot.”

“He has been through a lot? What about all these guys he’s killed, Ray”

“What about all the people that have killed him. I know he’s a criminal, but I still feel for sorry for him…for anybody that has to put up with the kind of shit he did all his life. All the stuff we talked about at the restaurant. You know I’m just a caring person. When I see somebody that has problems, they are crying out for help. This guy really needs help, and really needs care.” The couple stared at each other for a few silent moments before Ray resumed his examination of the corpse.

He did not need to do much inspecting before he had reached a conclusion. “The killer used this guys ass to shoot off the fireworks. It’s burnt crisp Ben, and at least one had been launched inwards. I guess it was fired first to kill him so he wouldn’t need to be tied down while being used like he was. Must have gone deep and burned some organs: There is no bleeding in the rectum, so he was dead before the anus was stretched to accommodate the size of the fireworks used. And in one of Sade’s books somebody did kill once by shooting fireworks up the victim’s butt.”

Ben stared at Ray for a bit before taking out his digital phone. “I’m calling Aub. And you…promise me you will find another genre to start reading!”

“But if hadn’t read these books and known these things we wouldn’t be this far along.”

“I know. We would be on vacation here instead of working 24 hours a day on our vacation.”