Who Killed Koch Robin 4 By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that, DON'T read it! You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, and is not for minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual. I have made no effort to portray safe sex practices. If you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com
We were beginning to have too many suspects. Money and sex are at the root of most murders and we had Donna's desire for money and Junior's love affair to cover those bases. Anyone who promises a perfect family life to his followers is a fool. The massive marketing operation of King Cole's organization was a house of cards.
Donna's taste for low life characters was a problem for her and her family. I did not know if this was just an effort of a spoiled rich girl to get attention, or of it was a genuine love of slumming. Perhaps associating with marginal people made he feel smarter or more desirable.
At the country club, she was one of many spoiled princesses. At a grubby bar and grill, she sparkled. It was also possible that one of her "boyfriends" saw her as the road to easy street. She was openly negative about her brother and someone may have thought killing him would please her.
In the same way, his death made her the sole heir. I had had a lot of experience with greedy people. Greed is usually insatiable. Many crooks and con men would escape detection if they stopped when they had enough. Unfortunately, they never had enough.
Junior and Koch were lovers and in love. That was a problem for Junior's father, but also for his minions. Daddy's talk show was a large, profit-making corporation. They specialized in selling self-help books that promised salvation. The books, the tapes and the weekend retreats were vastly profitable.
Of course, the claims he made were covered by the freedom of speech amendment in the constitution. The public is fickle. On little crack in the facade can easily bring the entire edifice down. Jimmy Swagger and the Bakers were typical of the catastrophic collapse of media based empires.
I decided to send Lance into the bars and clubs Donna frequented. His gold ol' boy attitude and his accent would work there. I went after the King Cole connection. I talked with my connection in the fraud division, and asked if they would talk about King Cole. They gave me a name to call, Dr. Owen McMaster.
He was a professor and a specialist in cults. I called him and we met at his house. He said meeting at his college was problematic.
McMaster live in a small, century old townhouse in an older part of town. It had an ordinary exterior, but paintings, drawings and sculptures cluttered its interior. I know little about art, but I was pretty sure this stuff was good. Owen had coffee ready. It was very good coffee. My first impression was that he was a movie producer's idea of what an absent-minded professor should look like. He was bald, bearded, slim and dressed in tweeds.
That was true, except for the absent-minded part. Owen was sharp as a tack. "I assume you know that King Cole is a fraud and without any real political or religious beliefs at all," he said. "He is right wing ultra-political and supposedly Christian man. He is a naturally cunning man, but once he moved to the second tier of talk show hosts he used a sophisticated polling group that could guide his talk."
"How does that work?" I asked.
"They poll the public to find out the hot button issues. Once they find the issues, they work on ways to address those issues and then find a way to profit from them. Of course the approaches are simplistic and superficial, but they are easy to understand," Owen explained. "A simple solution to a complex issue is rare, but is attractive to the gullible and can be profitable."
I explained the situation between Junior and Koch, and asked if that would be a problem.
"Right now it is a big problem. Gay conversion therapy is a cash cow. Cole may have made a mistake. Traditionally, they had diversified fund raising. They focused on anti-immigrant issues, gun rights and protecting the country against gays as well as supporting old time Christianity. Apparently a good chunk of redneck America is worried their sons may be gay," Owen continued. "The prices for seminars, tapes and retreats are high. It represents perhaps 40% of the organization's income."
"There had been another error. The promotional literature comes close to promising results. That can be a problem," Owen said. "I have met Joel Master, the director of King Cole's gay conversion program. Actually my cock met his prostate and did its own converting."
"He was a virgin?" I asked.
"He said he was a virgin. I had the suspicion may have been a virgin many times before," he said.
"It was an easy entry?"
Owen laughed. "Joel was open and already lubricated. If I were a detective, like you, I would bet I was not the first. On the plus side, I do not think his anus was callused. When he made the pass at me, I briefly toyed with the idea of rejecting the pass since he is such a hypocrite. My cock over ruled me on that one!" he said. "I am openly gay but I don't flaunt it. It is general knowledge."
"I have heard that sort of thing happens sometimes," I observed.
"I assumed you are gay. If you aren't, please forgive me for my frankness," he said.
"Why do you think I'm gay?"
"There is nothing direct, but several friends have mentioned that you are reasonable and open minded. Several friends of mine have said you are a good man and that you can be trusted. There are some closet cases on the police force who have problems with gay men," Owen said. "You aren't one of them. I made the assumption that you are gay."
"I don't advertise it," I said.
"You certainly aren't the standard issue gay man," Owen said. "Some men would find that attractive. I tend to attract young men who want to be mentored."
"Does King Cole have an enforcer?" I asked, changing the conversation back to the crime.
"The Grand Inquisitor is Clinton. He is about as smarmy as a man can be. He maintains ideological purity. They do not like former employees going public. He has several enforcers. Carlton Stark is a preacher with a sadistic streak. He is superficially mild-mannered, but he is mean. Elroy Bean is technically a bodyguard, but I think he is a sadist. He likes to give the impression he is a war tested Marine," Owen said. "He lasted three months in the Marines. They let him go due to mental problems. The word his he almost killed a man for what he thought was a homosexual pass."
"That is what we call a lead in the police world," I said.
"Elroy is a gay sadist. If he makes the pass, it is fine," Owen continued. "If you happen to be a masochist, it can be a match made in heaven. If not, it can be a bumpy road. He is not a play acting sadist; he is a genuine, clinical sadist."
"And a good Christian too?" I asked.
He is 100% saved, as is Carlton. Carton likes threats and intimidation. He is the sort of man who tells you he knows where your elderly mother lives and that accidents happen to the elderly all the time," Owen explained. "He also leaks slanderous items to the press. He leaks suspicions, so it can poison the water without being openly slanderous. He has a knack for destroying lives."
"Thank god they are such good, right thinking Americans," I remarked.
"That is a problem with true believers everywhere. Their total commitment to the faith can justify grotesque acts of violence. They are doing it for America, Christ, or for whom ever," he said. "That is how you get "pro-life" people killing doctors, and why they like to humiliate pregnant girls. True believers are a curse."
We talked a little longer and he showed me his garden. There was a life sized, nude sculpture in a corner. It was a classical type, lifelike and not abstract at all.
"You like the sculpture?" Owen asked.
"It is handsome." I said. "Is it old?"
"It is about twenty-five-years old. A sculptor friend did it of me. I had the summer off and he needed a model. He couldn't sell it to a museum for the obvious reason so he gave it to me," Owen said. The obvious reason was the oversized genitals. They were not grotesquely big, or cartoonish, but they were clearly of a well-endowed man. It was also clearly a portrait of a particular man, not a classical hero or a rendition of a generalized man.
We went back into the house. "I could show you my bedroom, if you are interested," he said. Owen adjusted his balls slightly. It was subtle, but I noticed. I did the same. That was almost an automatic reaction; I did it without thinking, but it was entirely involuntary either.
We went to the bedroom and we naked thirty seconds later. Well-hung men like Owen often lie back and let their playmates do all the work. When he said that some men liked my type, he apparently was referring to himself. He tried to swallow my cock first, but we were soon on the bed in the sixty-nine position. All was well.
Owen liked beefy men. He liked thick cocks and he really liked precum. Owen was impossible to deep throat, but from the 69 position, I could get some of it. He was a skilled cocksucker, both delicate and effectual.
I thought my sucking efforts were ineffectual, but I suddenly had a mouthful of sperm, so I must have been doing well enough. His sperm as almost steamy. That turned me on and I shot off in Owen's beard. He seem to like that too. Both of us had four alarm orgasms, so I was spent for the morning, so I went back to work. Owen asked if he could call me. I said that was fine and gave him my home number.
"I have an old friend who I think would really like you. If I arranged a meeting with the three of us would you be offended?" he asked.
I laughed. "I'm a fucking homicide cop. Let me assure you that a slightly odd sexual situation is not a problem," I said. I paused. "It is nice that you asked. I don't like to be blindsided." We shook hands and I left.
Back at the office, I did some research on Clinton, Carlton and Elroy. The Charlottesville police arrested Carlton in blackmail case, but he not charged. That case also involved the main witness's suicide. Carlton had moved many times, never staying in one place more than two years. He settled down only when he began to work for King Cole.
Elroy had several assault and battery charges. He too moved regularly. His juvenile records were not erased when he came of age, because he was involved in a case of felony maiming when he turned 18. King Cole provided top-notch lawyers for him, and he had been comparatively good recently.
The official record is not the same as officer memories. I checked with some of the investigating officers associated with Elroy and Carlton. They said the comparatively clean recent records were due to expensive lawyers. Apparently, the DA thought that the cost of fighting the case was not justified by the nature of the crimes.
"Elroy is a sick puppy," one man said. "It was only a matter of time before he hits the big time."
Lance came back from his day investigating Donna's beaus. That was good news and bad news. He had a lot of good information, but one of the boyfriends was borderline psychotic and sadistic. In the best-case scenario, they would meet his match and kill each other, and thus make the world a better place.
That night I got call from the hospital. Lance had been ambushed and was badly beaten. I raced to the hospital. He was in the operating room. There were several broken bones and they were now looking for internal injuries.
Attacking a cop is a big deal. Lance was new to Richmond and did not have a list of enemies looking for revenge. Someone he had interviewed was very unhappy about that. It also had to be someone who had little sense and less self-control[BW1]. Only an idiot would attack a policeman on the same day he was interviewed. Of course, it could have been someone who reported back to a person higher up the food chain. This was another major lead.
Shelia Brooks, the family liaison office came to the hospital. She had notified Lance's folks and they were on the way. Sheila would deal with them. I was to go to the crime scene and take charge. I left.
Patrol Officer Tamara Washington had run into the attack and scared off the perps. Tamara took no shit from anyone. There had been four men, but that did not slow Tamara one bit. She was six-feet-four inches tall and was always aggressive and in command. There was blood everywhere. None of it was Tamara's blood. She thought he had broken one man's shoulder and given another a least a concussion. Her Billy club probably had blood evidence from the perps.
"I went to help the officer who was down. I had a feeling he was in bad shape. I would have chased them otherwise," she said. "How is he?"
"He's in critical condition," I said. "You made the right decision."
She said there had been a staged accident and Lance must have stopped to help. Tamara had been a traffic cop for a while and she had the make of the car, as well as good description and a partial plate number. The men were wearing masks, but she had a good physical description of them and their clothes. One of the men had heavy tattoos. She had a good memory for details.
I could almost feel the computers at the Police Headquarters doing searches. Ten minutes later a patrol officer found the abandoned car, a mile away. The perps had been doused it with gasoline, but the officer put it out with an extinguisher. There might be fingerprints there. Tamara had things under control. I called in and asked what they wanted me to do next. The Chief came to the phone.
"Go home and get some sleep. Be here at 8:00 tomorrow. The computer guys are at work. They should have something in the morning."
The previous Chief wanted all the credit to go to the detectives and never mentioned the cops who patrolled the streets. The new chief was more evenhanded. Street cops were now looking for the perps and they would get the credit if they found them. I went home and went to bed. I thought I was not tired, but I fell asleep immediately. I woke at five-thirty ready to go. I went to the hospital. Lance was still in critical condition, but the situation was not as dire as it had been the night before.
Sheila had worked her magic with Lance's parents. They were anxious but calm. I told them that Lance had been working on a major crime, but they should not mention that to anyone. "We will portray this as a random mugging in the press. We don't want to alert the muggers," I explained. "We have some major leads, but that will not be made public either. Don't say anything to anyone, don't speculate. You can help us a lot that way. Sheila will keep you up to date." They understood.
We had the morning meeting. The report from the hospital was not good, but it was not hopeless either. The car had been stolen earlier that night. The lab now had the fingerprints for evaluation. There were two blood sources on the Billy club. Tamara had hit one man on a forward swing and she got the other using a backhand swing. The blood splatters were distinct and were on the way to a lab for analysis.
Dianna Fox, the chief computer guy gave us a rundown. One of the men was Rooster, one of Donna's friends. Tamara recognized the tattoos. Rooster's real name was Robert Morris, but had several other aliases.
Rooster was very easy to identify, and I realized they were planning to kill Lance, not just teach him a lesson. He had a direct link to Donna. There was light at the end of the tunnel.
Dianna then dropped a bombshell. She had found an article in the newspaper that featured Rooster as a success story for King Cole's anti-drug campaign. Kin Cole's campaign to save your children from becoming gay was preceded by a save your children from drug addiction campaign. There was a photograph of King Cole handing Rooster a certificate of achievement for overcoming the scourge of drug addiction. To the side of the picture was Rooster's mentor, Elroy.
I had a clear focus for the investigation, but now it was a blurred focus. Donna and King Cole could both have been involved. Tamara brought me Lance's notebook along with her own observations of the attack. I opened it and found that Lance kept detailed notes. There was no need to guess what he had been observing; it was all there. Tamara's notes were similarly detailed.
I started reading. An hour later, the Chief came over to me. "You need a new partner for this case. I was going to reassign Tim Cassidy to it. Is that acceptable?"
I said it was. "Officer Washington showed considerable aptitude in the attack. She both beat off the attackers and had the presence of mind to observe and remember details," I said.
"Your observations agree with mine," the Chief said. "This case may require some undercover work. Officer Washington is too physically imposing for that. I have her on my list of good officers."
You would never use the word imposing to describe Tim Cassidy. Forgettable was a more likely adjective. It was hard to remember what he looked like. That was his strong suit. He was also smart and tricky.
He came to my desk an hour later. He was unshaven and his hair was rumpled. It looked as if he was already to go undercover at some of the local dives. He was actually returning from a two week fishing trip. I went over the case with Tim and discussing it with him helped me too. He was a clear thinker.
He was ready to hit the bars. "I think I need to visits some bars and get drunk." Tim said. "I will bet there is a lot of speculation floating around. With four men involved there are a lot of possible connections." That made sense to me. He went off and I went to meet Donna.
I went to the Robin house. I did not call in advance, because I assumed she either would leave or be taken ill if she had a chance. Officially, I was informing the family that the Medical Examiner had released Koch's body for burial.
We still had a police guard at the gate. I went to the door and knocked. The maid said Mr. and Mrs. Robin were out. I asked if any member of the family was available and said it was important. A few minutes later Donna appeared.
"I'm detective McTavish. You brother's body has been released by the medical examiner." I said. "You might warn your parents, that you might not be able to have an open casket. The killer did a job on his head."
Donna turned white and staggered a little. I was after shock effect, and it worked. You cannot fake the white face. She may have been involved but perhaps the full extent of the crime was hitting her.
"One of our investigating officers on this case was attacked and almost killed last night. We think it is related. Do you have your own security people?" I asked. "We think you may be in danger; we can increase the guard if you wish."
Donna collapsed. This wasn't a stage collapse; she hit the ground hard. The maid and the cook ran in to help her. I radioed in for medical help. It was still possible she was involved, but she now knew it had taken on a life of its own. I would send in a skilled interrogator later.
I returned to the office. I had a call from Mac he wanted to talk privately. We met at my place. "I was back at the Mailman yesterday," he said. "Rooster told is pals he wouldn't be back the next day. He had hit pay dirt and from now on, he could drink at a better place than the Mailman. He would be loaded and Donna would be sorry she treated him like dirt."
"Did he explain my more?" I asked.
"No. the only other thing was he as saying that he provide service that you had to go out of town to get normally," Mac said. "I heard a cop was attacked last night."
"Do you think the attack was related to Rooster?" I asked
"Not really, but he had been ranting about snoops checking up on him," Mac added. My doorbell rang. It was Junior.
"I need help," he said. "I'm afraid." I let him in. His father wanted him out of town. Clinton had come to him and told him someone was after him. That someone and wanted to do to him what he had done to Koch. He also said that his sisters were endangered if he stayed.
That immediately clarified the situation. There was no possible way Clinton could have known that without being involved. Officially, we did not know of Koch's relationship with Junior.
"I think it would be good if you disappeared for a few days," I said. "I think we will have things sorted out by then." Junior agreed.
He knew Mac, and I felt a little vibe between them. Mac said he was going to his summer cottage for the weekend. That was 200 miles away and off the beaten track." That made sense to me. Junior would stay with me for the night. We talked for a while and then went to bed. Junior slept on the couch. The bath was off my bedroom. I fell asleep quickly.
I woke at six, went to the bath and took a shower. When I opened the shower curtain, Junior was standing there, naked and erect.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"I'm fine. I always have a morning hard on," he said.
"Did Koch usually help you with that?" I asked.
Junior nodded. "He usually sucked me off," he said. "It was best when he fucked me and made me shoo off hands free. He was big. It took a while to get used to it. It was always good, but it wasn't easy at first."
"Did he take his time?"
"Oh yes, he was careful. It was just that his tool was so big. It hurt until I felt him shooting in me. I did know anything could be that exciting," Junior said. "He stayed had afterwards and he like to churn it up. Your cock is not as long as his is, but I bet it is thicker. Would you like to do me?"
"After I find Koch's killer you can come by and we can see what we can do," I said. "Your hole is stretched to take Koch's cock. Mine might stretch it more."
"I think that would be okay," Junior said. "I feel empty."
"We can work on that after we catch the killer," I repeated. I told him to bed over. I worked two fingers into his ass and massaged his prostate. A little later, he popped hands free.
[BW1]