Tears of Blood, Ch. 9

“Good morning baby.” Ben whispered, when Ray opened his eyes.

“Yes, it is,” he whispered back with a smile as he started getting out of the bed.

“Stay right there. I’ve got breakfast started, so just lie there till it’s done. Then we can scoot over to the station and take Aub our file on the body from last night.”

“And I want to go back to the Barnes & Noble. I want a copy of that bell book you are always talking about.

“For Whom The Bell Tolls? Hemmingway? He’s my favorite!”

“I know. You said I should try a new genre, and this way we will have something else to share and talk about.”

“I hope this doesn’t mean I have to read your library of the complete works of the Marquis de Sade and anything written about him.”

“No. Not in one day,” Ray laughed.

“Speaking of our conversation at Hyman’s, I want to make a change too. I don’t give you the respect you deserve. I don’t mean just the Master/slave type, but common courtesy, especially in public. And you deserve much more professional courtesy on the job. And as far as the SM roles we live, and love, you are worthy of much more there as well. I remember the first thing you taught about the Leather lifestyle. A man is not a Master if he doesn’t have a slave or his slave’s respect, and a slave isn’t one without a Master. They have to be equals. I don’t think I have treated you as one, and I apologize.”

“No man is an island,” Ray smiled.

“As soon as we get through here I am taking you on a real vacation... someplace where neither of us knows anybody on the force to drag us into a case. I love you, and you deserve that.” Ben said as he sat on the bed next to Ray.

“I have a good idea. How about breakfast in bed?”

“Ok baby, I’ll go get it.”

“We can eat later.”

“I think we need to change the CD, Ben, that one has played twice since we started. I bought one before we left home; it’s still in the wrapper.” As he reached into the nightstand’s drawer, the phone on Ben’s side of the bed rang.

“Hello. No, Ray and I are just having breakfast and are bringing the case report over in an hour or so. What do you mean? No we didn’t know. Ok, fill us in when we get there.” He hung up the phone and turned to Ray. “There were two murders last night. They found another body about a block away from the one we found.”

Aubrey ran though the file he had on the second body with Ben and Ray. “He wasn’t mutilated or killed in some weird way like the other ones though. Plus, this is the only one where there is a wallet full of forms of identification. Guy’s name was Wes Tippin, lived here in town. There are no wounds, either. I don’t think it’s related. I’m heading to the morgue if yall want to come, but like I said, there really isn’t anything strange.”

“We’ve got some running around to do, but will stop by there a little later. Just take some good pictures for us,” Ben said, then turned to Ray with a smile, “if you agree.”

“Sounds good to me,” he smiled back.

“Great. I’ll let them know at the desk to expect you.”

Ray’s head popped to Ben’s direction. “Let’s go.”

Once in the car, Ray explained his wanting to go right then. “We need to take a trip to the Citadel. When Detective Sullivan said he would let the desk at the morgue know we were coming, that reminded me of something. Manuel told me that to be allowed up to the rooms, the desk had to be notified of their guest’s name and expected time. Maybe if we show him the pictures of all the guys he might recognize one or more of them.”

They arrived at the college that had a completely different feel than the last time Ray was there. This time he was expecting a tip or clue from a stranger, and not the smiling face of Manuel.

“Do you recognize any of the men in these pictures, Sir?” Ray asked the guard.

After spending about a half minute per picture, the guard stopped at the picture of Manuel and his boyfriend. “This guy here. He used to come almost every day to see Manuel. He missed a few this week but came by yesterday. I gave him the bad news and offered him a visit to one of the chaplains but he said he was ok. I gave him my card and told him he could call for any more information and funeral details. Once he was out the doors I saw him put it in the trash.

“We thank you, Sir. Please call us if you remember anything else about Manuel or visitors he had that might seem odd now. Have a good afternoon,” Ray said, and he followed Ben out the door.

“What kind of guy would through out the card that would give information on his lover’s funeral?”

“One that didn’t plan on attending.”

“Aub? Ben here. We’re pulling up to the morgue now and were just checking to see if you were still there.”

“I sure am, in fact I was waiting here for you two.”

“We’ll be right there.”

“Hello, we are Detectives Dawson and Lanier. Sergeant Vaughn is expecting us.”

“Yes sir, he said to send you back to the cutting room, and that you know the way.”

“Thank you ma’am,” Ray replied, and walked the hallway with Ben till they reached the back.

“So what’s the news on this on, Aub?”

“Ben, this one is different: cyanide. It was ingested. I searched the body for needle marks but none showed up. This guy was impeccably clean.”

“And I know why,” Ray calmly stated. “Look here. See the inside corner of his left eye? That is a red teardrop done with a magic marker. When Sade died he was rumored to have cried blood. That’s why he didn’t need funeral information: he was going to kill himself before the service.”

*****

By sundown Sergeant Vaughn and Lieutenant Wilcox had searched Wes Tippin’s house that had plenty of evidence linking him as Manuel’s lover, and even more literature on Sade than Ray had. They found a journal, which, in true Sade style, documented the tracking and killing of all the victims in complete detail. That evening Ray decided he wanted to go to Manuel’s memorial service, and Ben wanted to join him. After the last speaker, when the remaining time was set-aside for guests to say anything on their mind, Ray walked to the stand.

“Good evening. I’m sure I don’t know any of yall, nor you me, and honestly…I didn’t really know Manuel. In fact I only met him this week. In the short time I knew him, I found him to be an exceptional young man suffering from exceptional circumstances. While getting to know him I found several similarities between him and an author that I thought he emulated to the end, and in closing I would like to read the epitaph from that writer’s own grave, as it fits Manuel’s disposition and how I reflect on his life. They include feelings, times of death, and respect. With this I leave you:

“Traveler,

Stay and bend your knee to pray

Near the most ill fated of men.

He was born in the last century

And died in the current one.

Despotism, with frightful mien,

Against him waged unending strife.

Under Monarchs, this hateful fiend

Stole away the rest of his life.

Under the Terror it lived once more,

Set this man on the abyss’s rim.

Under the Consulate it was reborn

And still he is its victim.”