Tears of Blood, Ch. 3

Just a few blocks east was ‘the point’ of Charleston known as The Battery. It was a large park, once used as a military site, with cannons still facing the waterfront where the Ashley and Cooper rivers meet. There was a promenade between the street and the railing overlooking the rocky shoreline below. Anytime one could see couples walking, painters creating their next masterpieces, but this evening’s featured attraction was the young man lying on the rocks. He was face down, and completely nude except for a yellow shirt.

“We haven’t moved him Sir, since the coroner hasn’t made it yet, but he is obviously dead.” A young officer in his crisp blues told Aubrey.

“You think the skull split in two tipped him off?” Ray whispered to Ben out of the policeman’s earshot. “But you have to give him points for how great he makes that uniform look.”

“Calm down, Ray,” Ben instructed.

“He wears those pants like he’s doing them a favor.”

Ben gave a sustained glare to his partner, cleared his throat, and then called down to the policeman.

“That is bad head injury, officer, did anyone see him fall from the walkway?”

“He didn’t fall from there, Sir, he washed up about 30 minutes ago. That jarhead saw it come up while he and his friend were taking photos,” the cop said, pointing to a man with a military haircut talking to another obvious serviceman. “They were looking through the shots they had taken on the digital screen of the camera and found one with him floating about fifty yards out.”

“Did his pants wash up? There may be a wallet in them with his ID. I don’t think this was anything sexual or he probably would not still have on the shirt,” Ben said. “Look Aubrey, the shirt looks brand new, except for the hole on the left chest.”

The coroner, Bruce McClanahan, interrupted them. “What do we have, Aubrey?”

“Hey Bruce. We just got here ourselves. This is Ben Dawson and Ray Lanier. They are two good friends of mine from Raleigh. Detectives,” he said, introducing the men.

“Pleased to meet you, Bruce,” Ben responded.

“Do you mind if I bring them with me to the morgue? There are a few things I wanna check out, but we will probably be here another hour interviewing witnesses and trying to find the guys pants.”

“Not a problem at all, Aubrey. I’ll get him loaded and will wait for yall before I do a thing.”

Lieutenant Wilcox took several photos from different angles of the corpse, including facial ones, since it looked as if the police would need the pics to show in trying to discover the deceased’s identity. Aubrey was busy talking with the cadet from the Citadel Military College who found the body when it washed up.

“Did you hear anything? Maybe a boat motor out in the river?”

“Not a thing, Sir,” he said, with his attention diverted by the crew putting the body on the stretcher. His eyes narrowed, then widened, not unnoticed by Sergeant Vaughn.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, Sir,” the young man said nervously. “I guess the site just got to me.”

“Well call me if anything comes to mind. Here,” Vaughn said, passing a card.

The Charleston morgue looked like all the rest: Why spring on a decorator for the employees? And the ‘visitors’ aren’t giving a great big damn. The grayish green tiles were almost the same hue as those on the wall. It seemed as if one thought they were in a dirty cloud. Aubrey guided Ben and Ray to the autopsy room where Bruce was waiting.

“So anything in particular you want to look at, Detective Dawson?” Dr. McClanahan asked.

“Mainly that shirt,” Ben said, and was inspecting it intensely as soon as Bruce passed it to him. “It is new, Aub, the collar has no ‘beard rub’. And this hole on the chest has been cut, obviously just prior to putting it on: the cut material isn’t frayed at all, and just large enough to remove the alligator logo.”

“You really wanna see something wild? Aubrey started. “The guy has a tattoo of a flag from some country I don’t recognize, just over his cock…shaved pubes and all,” He pulled the sheet back to show the tat; six alternating black and blue stripes with one white stripe dividing them, and a red heart in the upper left corner.

“Um, That doesn’t represent a country, Aub. That is the Levi/Leather flag. The colors represent the ‘safe, sane, consensual’ creed of sadomasochism. I guess the first place we need to take those pics is to a men’s bar, not a nightclub or any regular gay bar.”

“Well, that would fall under yall’s department,” Aubrey said to them, “but I do know of a couple. Ben and Ray looked at each other, then Aubrey. “Hey, I do live here…I’ve never been, guys.”

“Sure, Aub. Is Wilcox developing that film tonight? I can pick it up tomorrow and start asking around. I think we are about ready to head on back to the room”

“I’ll have him get right on it, I’ll have all the shots and the report from the autopsy ready in the morning. When you wanna swing by?”

“How about 10:00? I really won’t be able to do much showing of the pics till tomorrow night, but the owner of the bed and breakfast told me about a restaurant that a lot of the Levi/Leather crowd frequent. If this guy was serious enough to have the tattoo I’m sure he is in the local club. Ray and I can scoot over there for lunch and ask around.”

“All set then. And maybe y’all can swing me something from the restaurant by the precinct. I never met a gay guy that couldn’t cook.”