Who Killed Koch Robin?
For years, Richmond's Police Chief Rollins Smith was the media's darling. He always got his man and he did it quickly and seemingly without effort. There were whispers that he had political ambitions and he was eying the governorship. All was well until Sam Gooding, the head of the police lab keeled over dead. He died of a massive heart attack caused by a cocaine overdose.
Independent scientists came in the check his unfinished work and discovered gross irregularities. There was much unfinished work, but some of his earlier work was not just unfinished, it was never done. Sam produced reports and was superb on the witness stand; he simply had not done the work. The DNA reports that had convicted many men did not exist.
Rollins Smith's reputation for both always getting his man and for his economical operation of his office vanished and conviction after conviction was tossed out by judges for gross irregularities. Smith resigned, as did all of his pals in the department.
I am Brick MacTavish, a detective in the department. I was the low man on the departmental totem pole. I had a good record of arrests and convictions, but I was slow and my investigations were time consuming.
Smith's pals were handsome, telegenic men who solved cases in days rather than weeks. They were gone, and I suddenly became a head detective.
I am neither handsome nor telegenic. Brick is my nickname; I am Robert Douglass MacTavish. I weighed eleven pounds at birth. When my Grandmother saw me for the first time, she exclaimed that my mother had given birth to a brick. That was due both to my shape and red hair. As I aged, my physique became more brick like and my hair redder. When I was fourteen my hair became more of a reddish-brown and had spread to my chest and gut. It grew over my shoulders and down my back.
My grandmother liked me, but she said she was relieved when red hair did not begin to grow on my eyeballs and fingernails. That could have been a problem for some men. I was approaching a circus freak show level of hairiness. I was big, six-three, muscular and smart. I was not the sort of guy you would mess around with. My family life was good and all was well.
I joined the police force and did well. I looked as if I were fat and none too bright. That worked well for me as a policeman. Suspects tended to tell me things they should not have said. They thought they were smarter than I was.
I did not Chief Smith's profile for a detective, so he assigned me to low priority cases in poorer neighborhoods. These were either redneck, or black areas that were off the newspapers' radar. I am reasonable and always kept my word. I was lucky that I intimated young men who were trying to prove themselves. No one thought that they could mess with me. I am a fairly good judge of character and I could tell the difference between bad actors and kids just being jerks.
After several years, people would give me information about the bad actors. I had good conviction rate without the aid of falsified scientific evidence. After Chief Smith left, I began to get higher profile cases.
The new Police Chief, Henry Jones, was straightforward and direct. We had a number of new people that needed to be broken into the department and learn about the city. A number of them were from rural areas of Virginia. Richmond was a step up in salary and in the sort of cases they did. As an old hand, they came to me for advice and guidance.
Jones was worried that because of the scandal and reconstruction of the department there might be an increase in crime. Our new people were not used to the city. While multiple convictions had been overturned, a number the released felons were guilty. Smith had taken short cuts to achieve convictions that he could have achieved had he taken more time.
The falsely convicted people were free, as were the guilty. Some were genuinely bad people. One would think that having received a Get-Out-of-Jail card would have encouraged them to avoid a second stint in jail. I had doubts about that. Few people turn to a life of crime as an alternative to becoming a brain surgeon or rocket scientist. Most are stupid or lazy. Many are stupid and lazy.
I am unmarried and don't date. Most assume that is because I am not a babe magnet. Well, I know I am not a babe magnet, but my tastes run in other directions. I get together with some old pals and we let off steam. That typically involves orgasms. It all quiet and low key.
My first case under the new regime was the murder of a man named Koch Robin. He was the son of a prominent family and a ballet dancer for the James River Ballet. The doorman found him dead in his apartment overlooking the James River in downtown Richmond.
I was used to working near downtown, but the annual income in the high-rise apartment was one or two hundred thousand dollars higher than I encountered in the projects. The apartment had a beautiful view and was decorated by a professional. I had no real idea of the income of a ballet dancer, but I assumed family money paid for the apartment.
Robin had his head bashed in. Multiple blows had reduced the back of his head to jelly. I was shocked and a bit sickened. I had seen violent assaults and murders, but they had been in squalid and poor neighborhoods and houses. The apartment was pristine and perfect, except for the bloody mess of Robin's head. It didn't seem right.
The lab team was hard at work. They were all new staff members and did things by the book. I had a new partner, Lance Thompson. He was from rural Nelson County on the edge of the Blue Ridge. He was a smart kid, but had an accent so thick you could bottle and sell it.
The apartment house had CCTV cameras everywhere. He went off to secure them. The lab team leader, Amy Noland, thought the murder had occurred near midnight. A program from the ballet was for a performance for the night before sat on the coffee table. I asked if Koch had been in the ballet.
Amy produced tweezers and opened the program. He had been in the ballet, but as part of the corps de ballet, not a featured performer. There was a handwritten note on the program, "reception at Liz's, 10:00."
"A clue?" she asked.
"A start," I replied.
There was a commotion at the door. It was Koch's parents. I went to meet them. The father looked dazed. His wife wanted to see her son. I went through my normal crime scene speech. I emphasized that it was an uncontaminated site and if they entered the apartment, they might inadvertently disturb or damage an important clue.
"Is it murder?" he asked, "Not an accident?"
"There is no question about that. It is murder," I said. "I will come by your house tomorrow morning and talk with you. We will need your help. I need to know your son's friends and associates. Did he have any enemies?"
Mr. Robin just sated into space. His wife said they would be home that afternoon. They left. I wanted them gone before they removed the body.
The forensic team did their work. Later in the day, I went to the ballet school and asked to talk to the director. The director was an incredibly fit sixty-year-old man, Devon De La Tour. I told him of Koch's death. He looked shocked.
"We you aware of any problems or threats to him?" I asked.
"Oh my lord no. He wasn't that kind of a man," Devon said. "He was modestly talented and more than willing to do his part in the ballets. He like dance and the atmosphere here. His parents are very generous, but he could have danced here on his own merits. He was not a star and did not have the ego of a star either. That was attractive to me. He just did what he was told and that can be a relief."
"Any close personal relationships?" I asked.
"Koch seemed to get along with most of the crew. He was pleasant and affable. He was older than most of the group and seemed to be an older brother to many," Devon explained. He paused. "How did he die?"
"He was brutally beaten," I said.
"That can't be anyone here," he said. "That's not possible."
"Did he have any sexual contacts with dancers?"
"He wasn't attached to anyone in particular, but he had an active sex life I think," Devon said. "I get the impression that this sex life was like his personality, pleasant, but not deep. You know he was gay?"
I nodded. "The autopsy is underway now. We will soon know if sex was involved in the crime. He was fully dressed, so I rather doubt it."
"How can I help you?" he asked.
"We will need to interview the people he knew. Is that a problem?" I asked.
"Not at all. We will do anything we can to help," he said. "By the way, Devon De La Tour is my stage name. I was born Stanley Blackwater in Newark, New Jersey. I assume Brick is not your given name?"
"I am Robert and was supposed to be Bobby, but Brick stuck as a nickname," I said.
"Brick suits you," he replied with a smile. "Assume you were never tempted into a career in dance?"
"I not too light on my feet, but if you need someone to break down a door, I'm your man," I said.
Devon looked at my crotch and smiled. "If I need a door broken down, I will be sure to call you," he added. I went to my office at police headquarters. The Robin family was well known and wealthy. I met with a family liaison officer, Shelia Brooks. She would visit them and keep the family up to date. She was on the way to their house.
There had been a reporter knocking on the family's front door and she was taking a uniformed officer to keep them at bay. Sheila was motherly, firm and a straight talker. She would explain the procedure and answer any of the family's questions.
There had been two other deaths that day. One was a traffic accident and the other was a man found dead at home. The autopsies were underway when we found Koch, so it would be a while before we received information from the medical examiner.
I went to my apartment, and found a call from Willie, an old friend. He wanted to come over and said he would bring Chinese takeout. That was fine with me. He arrived an hour later. He had heard the headline, Murder at the Ballet on the nightly news. Willie was a carpenter and was the least likely man to be gay in the world.
Willie thought he was straight. He did not love men; he just liked sex with men. To be completely truthful, he loved sex with men. He had a wide range of friends and most of the relationships were friends with benefits. He tended to be happy go lucky and cheerful.
He knew more about the ballet than I would have guessed. That knowledge was due to a relationship with Devon De La Tour. Willie had picked him up, had sex and they were sort of friends. "Devon gets tired of small, slim and beautiful young men," Willie explained. "Apparently there is an old tradition of sleeping with the director as a way to get ahead. I'm not after anything but a good time and he likes that."
"Is he any good in bed?" I asked.
"He's really willing, imaginative and almost double jointed," Willie said. "Need I say more? Underneath all the affectations he's a nice guy. I played with another man there, Lewis Goodman. He was fun, but under the affectations was another layer of affectation. He wanted a daddy, but only for a night."
"That must have been annoying," I remarked.
"You know I have no problem with a good night once and a while," Willie replied. "I think he needs a shot of sperm up his ass to remind him that he's a man. He is small and incredibly fit. My beer can sends him to the moon."
I enjoyed Willie's beer can too. He had a warm spot for Cop cum and that was fine for me.
The next morning I received the medical examiner's report. Blunt force trauma, with no drug or alcohol involvement. He had taken a drink, but no more than that. There was no sexual component. Koch had no record with the police, not even a traffic ticket.
His family was wealthy, largely due to his mother's inherited wealth. Elizabeth was the daughter of a Philadelphia broker, Wistar Koch. Her husband, Thomas, had a good sense for business and he greatly increased the family's wealth. They were a low profile family, much given to cultural and educational charities.
At nine, I drove out to their estate in the West End. The house faced a quiet residential road. It sat behind a brick and wrought iron fence; I went through the gate. Johnny Windom, a patrol man, sat in his cruiser, keeping gawkers away. He had a list of all the cars and people who had visited or driven by the house. Some killers like to see the results of his or her handiwork.
A formidable woman answered the door. She was a neighbor and friend, Catherine Dunlop, who was keeping the unworthy away. I showed my badge and she took me to the library. She had a cell phone and got a call. It was Johnny. He gave her the name of a youth at the gates. She knew he was a friend of the sister of the deceased, Donna. Johnny sent him in.
Mr. & Mrs. Robin came in. I gave them an update and told them the body would be released that afternoon. They gave me the name of the funeral home, and I told we would handle the transfer of the body. Elizabeth Robin seemed to perk up with that information. Families are in limbo until they get the funeral preparations underway. She had something to do now.
I told them drugs and alcohol were not involved and that there had been no sexual component in the crime. You would think that was incidental given that it was a murder, but it spared them from the whispers of neighbors.
Of course, they said that Koch had no enemies and was loved by all. They were shocked and clueless. I asked if he had a will or if there was anyone who would benefit from his death. That was a stock question you need to ask.
"His grandfather set up a trust fund when he was born. At age 21, he received the entire sum. It was a million dollars when his Grandfather set it up. That was thirty years ago. I assume it is twenty-five to thirty million now. I don't know if he died intestate, or made a will," Thomas said. "We try to keep our noses out of our children's business. They are adults."
"Does your daughter have the same arrangement?" I asked.
"No, her grandfather died before she was born," he said. "She is 23. There was a seven year gap between the children." He suddenly stood and left the room. That happens when you are trying to move on and the extent of your loss strikes you.
"You must forgive my husband," Mrs. Robin said. "They were close."
"I would like to talk with your daughter," I said. "Is she available?"
"Could you do that later? She is really broken up about it," she said. "They loved each other but they bickered constantly. It's awful when someone you love dies and you never had a chance to make up for all the stupid things you have said." She paused and then said, "Let me see if she can talk." She left the room.
Mrs. Dunlop came in. "Would you like a cup of coffee? I made some for Johnny," she asked. I said that would be nice if it was not a bother. She had made friends with the patrolman out front. That was a good sign.
She left and returned a minute or two later. "Koch was a wonderful boy. He was genuinely nice and pleasant. I thought there might be a problem when he came out as gay, but he was so nice, it didn't seem to matter," she said. "His sister, Donna, was always difficult. She is basically a good girl, but she must have the worst taste in boyfriends of any girl I know."
Mrs. Robin returned to the room and said her daughter could not talk now and asked if I could come back later. I said that I could do that and I left.
As I left, I ran into a friend walking his dog by the house. Woodrow Carlisle was a member of a city commission overlooking the police department and I knew him well. He was open-minded and didn't have his own agenda. He asked me over for coffee. Woodrow was wealthy and moved in the same circles as the Robin family. I said that I was busy, but I was free later in the day. He suggested cocktails that evening. That was fine with me.
Woodrow knew everyone and everything. He was discrete and careful. Several years earlier, I had discovered that he was not discrete when his cock was in my mouth and he was working up to an orgasm. Woodrow had been in a long term, very monogamous relationship for years. His partner died and I was the first new man to play with him. I was also the first man to take his load.
He said he would take mine sometime, but I knew it would be long wait. Sex with him wasn't that exciting, but he was a good man and it was good enough. He knew all the gossip and could give leads when there was an event in his social circle. That was rare but it did happen.
I arrived at his house at 5:30. "Brick, I have a friend coming over who I think you might like. He moves in Donna Robin's social set, but I think he's your type," Woodrow said. "I mentioned to him that you are a cop. That seemed to excite him."
"He's into men in uniform?"
"It's not the uniform, but it may be authority figures. He told me he has never met a cop socially," Woodrow explained. "He usually plays it cool and collected, but he was excited and almost begged me to invite him over to meet you."
The doorbell rang. Woodrow answered the door and introduced me to Judson Hall, a stockbroker. He was a strapping, bald man of thirty-five or so. He looked like a jogger or a swimmer.
Woodrow said it had been a long, stressful day for him and suggested we go to his hot tub to relax. That was his normal prelude to sex. I looked at Judson who winked. Judson and I went to the tub and stripped. Woodrow went to get drinks. Judson had good body and had no problem being naked in front of a stranger.
He looked at me and began to get hard. That was a good sign. Like most men, my cock responded to his erection. Judson was not shy at all and by the time Woodrow returned with drinks, my cock was safely tickling Judson's tonsils.
"I was hoping you men would find a common interest," Woodrow remarked. "You know that I tend to be a busy body, but Judson likes the bottom. I don't do that, but I don't mind watching."
I like to top and the thought excited me. Judson was enthusiastically sucking me. I ooze quite a bit and he tasted my cock's reaction to the excitement. He moaned. That did nothing to reduce the excitement.
We broke apart and Judson bent over the edge of the hot tub and presented his open ass to me. Woodrow had lubricant waiting and we were off to the races. I later found out that Judson possessed a tight hole, but I turned him on and he opened when I touched his tits.
I slid in easily and then he clamped his sphincter tight, holding it in him. My cock had found a home away from home. Usually when I fuck I am a guest in a guy' ass. I am a nice guest and I usually leave a thank you gift. Actually, I always leave a thank you gift, either a snack in his mouth or some homemade anal lube in his ass.
With Judson I felt as if his ass was made for my cock. He reacted to my every movement. I felt appreciated. It is unusually hard to pull my trigger, but Judson could do it. He moaned when I began to ejaculate and I knew he could feel me squirting.
Woodrow watched and didn't interfere. I pulled out and we returned to the water and our drinks. Woodrow asked me about the murder and I gave him the basic details. Judson was a lawyer and he knew of Koch, but knew a great deal about his sister, Donna. He moved in the same social circle as the Robin family. Elizabeth Robin was an heiress; Tommy Robin was a poor boy who married well. He was a gifted financial wiz and her money has increased exponentially. Koch was popular and happy.
"Koch is like his father. He was not the sort of man who attracts enemies. He was unpretentious and modest," Judson said. "The murder seems like a random lightning bolt."
"His sister is what I would describe as difficult. I don't think that Elizabeth knew how to deal with her. You would never guess Koch was wealthy. Donna flaunts her wealth and buys friends. She is pretty enough and is sexually generous, so she could have friends for free. I think she likes lowlifes and like to have them financially dependent. The relationships don't last long."
"It's possible she is just a contrarian," Woodrow said. "I have a nephew who just had to do whatever his parents don't want him to do. He is fine with me. Donna is strange. She has it all and that is not enough."
"Perhaps she needed more affection?" I suggested.
"I think it's different from that. I think she regarded any affection given to Koch was wasted. She deserved all the affection," Woodrow suggested. "Why squander it on the undeserving? To say that she is self-centered understates the case."
"Do you know if Koch had a will?" I asked.
"Maybe," Judson said. "I don't know personally, we both invest in a high net worth fund. I know it requires a will and a power of attorney to invest. I assume they required a will from him. I do not know who is his lawyer but half of the kids he went to school with are lawyers. He could take his choice."
We talked a little longer and I went home. Judson left the same time I did.
"I enjoyed meeting you," he said. "I hope we can meet again."
"It was fun," I don't want to sound slutty, but I'm always ready."
"Thank you, Jesus!" he replied.