Song For Whoever Part Two
Tim yawned as he sat at his desk typing the previous day’s report. He’d eventually gotten to bed at around 3am, and had been up at 5.30, so he was suffering a little. Frank walked in, bright and alert as usual, at around 7.15, and threw a candy bar at Tim’s desk with deadly precision.
“Timmy, my man! Did you get anything more out of Ms. Meyers last night on the way home? Or did she clam up and refuse to talk to you?”
Frank smirked as he noticed the black shadows under Tim’s eyes.
“Something or someone keep you up last night?”
Tim shook his head, but a rapidly spreading crimson blush gave him away.
“I was up till 3am trying to figure out what Rachel Meyers might have had to gain from killing her agent. We know that she hated him because he abused her and then dropped her for a 16-year-old prostitute named Emma, but she wouldn’t have actually got anything from his death. What’s your take on the situation, Frank?”
Frank looked long and hard at Tim. There was something not quite right about the way he was talking about Rachel Meyers, as if he was trying too hard to be disinterested. Frank hoped that Tim hadn’t got involved in any way last night, like he had with Chris Logan. If he had, it might compromise the investigation.
“I think she knows more than she’s telling us, that’s for sure. Even if she wasn’t involved, I think she knows who is. Did you get her to write down her address last night? I think we’ll pay her a little visit this morning.”
Tim looked up in alarm.
“Uh, yeah, I have it here. She said that if we need to see her today, not to disturb her this morning, as she normally sleeps until midday.”
Frank laughed.
“Then we’ll go and see her now, when she’s not expecting it. Maybe she’ll be a little more cooperative!”
Frank grabbed his coat, and walked out of the squadroom. Tim’s morning was going from bad to worse!
They arrived at Rachel’s apartment a little after 8am, and she answered the door looking bleary eyed and as though she hadn’t gotten much sleep either.
“Detective Pembleton! T-… Detective Bayliss! What are you doing here so early?”
She moved aside so that they could come into the apartment. It was spacious and simply furnished, with the accent on white walls and pale wood. She was dressed in nothing but a man’s shirt, and the too-long sleeves only served to make her look smaller than she really was.
“Would you excuse me while I get dressed, please? Feel free to make yourselves coffee. The kitchen’s through there,” she said, pointing to a door. “The coffee’s in the jar, so’s the sugar. There’s plenty of milk in the fridge. I’ll only be a minute.”
Tim wandered through to make coffee, while Frank busied himself looking around the rest of the apartment. The living room was massive, and there was a section that had been screened off to make an office area. In the office area was a computer, a guitar and keyboard, and a microphone. A basic home studio set-up. Tim shouted through to Rachel to ask how she took her coffee.
“White, no sugar, thanks. There are plenty of cookies in the tin, help yourselves. I’m afraid I don’t have any doughnuts today!”
She padded out of the bedroom wearing sweats, with bare feet and her hair tied back. She looked like a schoolgirl, with her face devoid of makeup. Tim carried a tray from the kitchen with three steaming mugs of coffee and the cookie tin. He and Frank sat on a battered leather sofa, while Rachel settled into an equally battered armchair.
“How can I help you this morning? Have there been any more developments?”
Rachel appeared calm, but Tim could see that she had spent much of the night lying awake, as he had.
“Detective Bayliss and I need to ask you a few questions about your whereabouts between 2 and 4am the night before last. We never really cleared that up yesterday.”
Rachel nodded, and wrapped her tiny hands around her coffee mug in a defensive gesture.
“I was on stage until just after 2am, then I went into my dressing room to change and take off my makeup. I was in the dressing room until about 3am, when my driver came to take me home. I stopped off at a late night diner to get something to eat, it’s the little place on Aliceanna Street, and I got home at around 3.30, same as always. My driver stayed to make sure I got inside, and I guess he drove off more or less straight away. Why are you asking me this? You don’t think I had anything to do with his murder, do you?!”
Tim stepped in to placate her.
“At the moment, you’re our best link to Martin LeFevre. There’s no one else who knew him as well as you. Do you know of any other current or ex-girlfriends we could talk to, Ms. Meyers?”
Rachel nodded slowly.
“The girl he left me for, Emma, I mentioned her last night. She’s a prostitute, gets most of her pick-ups in Little Italy. That’s all I know about where you might find her. She’s 16 or so, has long platinum blonde hair, and is quite tall. I’ve only ever seen her a few times, so I can’t tell you any more about her. I suggest that if you want to know what Martin was up to recently, you talk to his secretary. She was always the one who would cover for him when he was cheating on me.”
Tim looked at her as if to say, “I’m sorry”, but before Rachel could respond, Frank was talking at her hard and fast, totally insistent.
“Why didn’t you tell us this last night? It may be important! We could have been following this up instead of coming down here to get you out of bed! Do you mind if I look around?”
Rachel looked close to tears.
“No, go ahead. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Rachel rushed into the kitchen as Frank headed for the bedroom. Torn between his budding feelings for Rachel and loyalty to his partner, Tim stood shell-shocked for a few moments, before deciding to follow Rachel. She was stood by the sink, arms braced on the edge, sobbing quietly. Tim put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. He wiped away her tears with his thumbs, and held her close.
“I shouldn’t be in here, but to hell with it! I don’t think that you killed Martin; it’s just that Frank is on one of his crusades, and when he starts, you can’t stop him. I’m so sorry to put you through all of this.”
He gently kissed her hair, and smoothed it down with the palm of his hand. It was so unfair! Why did this have to happen? The first time he had ever connected with anyone like this, and it had to be a suspect!
Rachel pulled away, and wiped her eyes.
“I suppose this means that lunch is off? I mean, you can’t take me to lunch now that I’m your number one suspect, can you?” she said, cynically.
Tim laughed.
“Of course we’re still having lunch! To hell with Frank. I have never felt like this before, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him spoil this for me. You were right last night. Sometimes, we just have to take a chance!”
With that, he pulled her into his arms again, and kissed her. They pulled apart as they heard Frank walking across the wooden floor of the living area. He appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“I need to look at the contents of your computer. Would you turn it on for me?” Frank glared at Tim as Rachel walked out of the room.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, for God’s sake? She’s a goddamn suspect, and you have the hots for her! This could screw the entire investigation!”
Tim looked at Frank with contempt.
“There is nothing going on between us, Frank. You gave her a rough time in there, and she needed someone to talk to! Personally, I don’t think she had anything to do with it, and we shouldn’t be treating her as if she killed the guy!”
Tim stormed after Rachel into the office. She had pulled up a list of files already, and each was dated and had a time of creation next to it. The files were mainly MIDI, and a few documents, but nothing that was even remotely related to Martin LeFevre.
Frank looked bored, and decided that they were going to get no fresh information.
“We’ll need you to come to the stationhouse to make a statement sometime, so we’ll be in touch. Goodbye.”
Frank left the apartment. Tim lingered for a minute.
“I’ll be here as planned. I’m sorry that had to happen. Bye, Rachel.”
He kissed her on the cheek, and followed Frank out of the apartment. He raced down the steps outside the apartment, and caught up with Frank as he was unlocking the car. He grabbed Frank’s arm, and whirled him around to face him.
“What did you think you were playing at in there, Frank? Christ, she’s not even a suspect! And as for you accusing me of being involved with her, well, that’s my business, not yours! She’s so tiny that she could never have hurt a man that size without getting some sort of injury herself! Are you going to go to Gee, without any evidence, and tell him that Rachel Meyers is the main suspect? Huh, Frank? What are you going to say?”
Tim flung himself into the passenger seat of the car, and sat in stony silence.
“By the way, I can’t go to see this Emma person with you until this afternoon. I have a dental appointment at twelve thirty, so I have to be back at the stationhouse by twelve. As long as that doesn’t constitute slacking off in your book, that is,” he added with a wry smile.
Frank looked at him, and shook his head.
“You are one fucked up man, Bayliss. Go and see your “dentist”, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I won’t be telling Gee anything, by the way. If you want to play with fire, that’s okay by me, but just be careful, Tim.”
Frank smiled at Tim with concern. When would Tim learn that if he messed with people involved with investigations, he was going to get hurt? If not at first, then as soon as they found out about his bisexuality. Tim was like a brother to him, and he just wished that he could find himself someone to settle down with, someone who’d accept him no matter what. However, Tim was so messed up, this was unlikely to ever happen.
Tim broke the uneasy silence.
“We went on a date last night. Me and Rachel. I took her to the Waterfront. We had a few drinks, kicked a sleeping Kellerman, and went for a walk. She guessed I was bisexual. And she didn’t run. I really like her, Frank. She’s…different, somehow. It’s like she understands where I’m coming from. We just clicked straight away. I’m taking her out to lunch today. I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone, Frank. She means a lot to me, and I don’t want to mess it up this soon.”
He tailed off, and returned to staring out of the window. Frank sighed.
“Okay, Tim. I won’t say anything, I just hope you know what you’re getting into, okay?”
Tim stared at Frank intently.
“You think she did it, don’t you?” Frank simply kept on driving until they reached the stationhouse.
************
Rachel opened the door to Tim at a little after twelve. She was still dressed in sweats, but had put sneakers on, and looked hot, as though she had just returned from a run.
“I didn’t know whether you’d come, not after this morning. And you’re early! I’m impressed! Come in. Make yourself at home. You know where everything is if you want anything. I’m just going to shower and change. I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”
As she turned to go into the bedroom, Tim caught her hand, and pulled her into his arms.
“I was wanting to do this all morning. Come here, you!”
He bent down and kissed her passionately, his strong hands roaming all over her back. They made their way over to the sofa, and collapsed on it in a fit of giggles. Rachel pulled the band from her hair and shook it free.
“I’m glad you came. I thought that it might have been over before we’d even had a chance,” she said, and kissed him again.
“I’d better go change, then I’ll be out. Grab a coffee if you like. Won’t be long!”
She got up and trotted into the bedroom, half closing the door behind her. Tim wandered around the apartment, admiring Rachel’s taste in décor. It was simple and uncluttered, with a flowing elegance only a woman could add to a room. Tim eyed the living room slightly jealously, wishing that he could have achieved the same effect in his own apartment. At that moment, Rachel walked out of the bedroom, wearing nothing but burgundy lace underwear. Tim blushed visibly, and made to turn away, but Rachel went right up to him
“Can you untangle the hook from my hair, please? It’s pulling like hell!”
Tim let out a sigh of relief, and started to untangle hair from the bra hooks. He couldn’t help touching Rachel’s skin, which was smooth and soft, almost like velvet. He had to stop himself from going any further.
“There you go, all free!” he said, relieved.
She turned to him, and pulled him down for a kiss. He was awkwardly trying not to touch her, because if he did, he might take things a bit further than either of them was ready for. She pulled away, and ran into the bedroom. He was frustrated that he didn’t know how to act around such an open woman, that he didn’t know what she expected of him. His thoughts were interrupted by Rachel’s return. She was wearing a long, flowing burgundy dress and flat black pumps. She looked incredibly innocent. “Where are we going for lunch?” He looked at her warmly.
“I thought that maybe we could go get a bite to eat somewhere in Little Italy. That is, if you like Italian food. What do you think?”
She smiled and put her arms around him.
“I don’t mind where we eat, just as long as we do. I’m starving!”
They were seated at a small table in the back of a tiny, family-run restaurant in the middle of Little Italy. It was decorated in a dark, rustic style, and the smell of garlic and wine permeated the air. They had arrived early, and were the only customers. Tim was watching Rachel intently over the table, her features softened by the flickering candlelight. He was still confused, about his feelings, his sexuality, about the morals of this whole relationship. All he knew was that he wanted Rachel in a way he had never wanted anyone, male or female. He wanted to know everything about her, past, present and future, he wanted to know every curve of her body, and be able to recall it in memory at will. These feelings scared the hell out of him, and he didn’t know what to do, how to act on them. It had been so long since he had wanted to be with someone for longer than a couple of dates that he felt totally out of it.
Rachel was speaking, and he hadn’t noticed.
“… would that be okay, Tim? Tim?”
He shook his head in surprise, and smiled sheepishly.
“Sorry, I was in a world of my own. What were you saying?”
Rachel laughed. She liked this man! It wasn’t often that she fell for a thoughtful type, and she normally got bored, but it was different this time. Tim was gentle, thoughtful and kind, but he had an inner strength that seemed to shine from within.
“That’s okay. I was just asking if I could see you after your shift tonight. I called Guy, and told him I needed some time off to get over Martin, and I’m not working until next Monday now. Is that okay?”
Tim held her hand across the table.
“I’d like that. I finish at the stationhouse between six and eight, with any luck, and then I’m working at the Waterfront all night. You can come in and grab something to eat, if you like, and we can see what happens. I might be able to persuade Munch or Lewis to take the last part of the shift for me so we can go on somewhere else. If you want to, that is.”
“That would be great. I don’t mind sitting in while you work. You had to do the same last night, so think of it as revenge! You can bore me all you like tonight!”
Rachel took another sip of her wine, and a bite of her pasta, and looked at Tim. He looked tired, but he was no less attractive. He had an air of vulnerability about him today. Maybe he was just as nervous as she. She wasn’t used to making a man nervous, as she usually only attracted the confident types who wanted to boast that they were dating a singer. She was normally the one feeling unsure in a relationship, and this one was no exception. Despite what she had said last night, she was a little scared about the fact that Tim was bisexual. There was an extra risk with this relationship, in the fact that she had to be prepared for the fact that he may not just leave her for another woman. She wasn’t sure how she would deal with that if it happened. But she knew she had to try to make a go of this, because it felt different from every relationship she had been in in the past.
They shielded their eyes as they walked out into the comparatively bright sunlight. Tim put his arm around Rachel’s shoulders, and held her close as they walked back to his car. It was 1.15pm. They sat in the car in silence for a few seconds, neither needing to say anything to the other.
“Uh, I don’t need to be back at the stationhouse until 2.30 or so, I told them I had a dental appointment. What do you want to do now?”
Tim knew where this was heading, and was scared that he might push things too quickly.
“We can go back to my apartment for a coffee, if you like, as long as you don’t mind a bit of mess,” he asked, hesitantly.
Rachel smiled, and put her hand on his thigh, squeezing a little.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Tim? I don’t want coffee, and neither do you. But are we ready for this yet? I don’t want to rush things and ruin our relationship, so if you’re not sure, then we can always go to the Waterfront or something, and have a real coffee. And then see where things go this evening. I think that may be better for both of us right now.”
Tim pulled Rachel’s hand up to his lips, and kissed it.
“You’re wonderful, you know that? You’re right, I don’t want coffee, I want you, but I think waiting may be better for us, both in the long and short term. We’d better not go to the Waterfront though, so the offer of a real coffee at my apartment stands, if you like.”
Rachel leaned over and kissed him lightly on his lips.
“I’d like that very much. And I like that you’re being so honest with me. It makes a change from the usual assholes I date!”
************
Tim and Frank pulled up outside a tenement building in Little Italy. There were several girls on the corner on the opposite side of the road, and it was these girls that they had come to watch. There was no sign of a girl fitting Emma’s description yet, but she would have to come out of the building soon. There was an apartment in the tenement that was known to be used by a group of prostitutes, and it was believed that Emma was one of them.
Frank had visited the office of Martin LeFevre whilst Tim had been out to lunch, but his conversation with the secretary had been fruitless. She had claimed to know nothing about any of the women that Martin had dated or lived with, and refused to give details. Even when told that she may be pulled down to the stationhouse for questioning she stolidly refused to cooperate.
Tim had returned from his lunch date with a huge smile on his face. It was obvious that things with Rachel were progressing well. Frank had serious misgivings about not reporting to Gee about Tim’s involvement with a possible suspect, but, after seeing how happy Tim was after being with her, his conscience eased somewhat. But it still didn’t change the fact that, so far, Rachel was the only person that they could find who bore some sort of grudge against Martin LeFevre. Even if she hadn’t killed him herself, which Frank now admitted would have been impossible for a woman her size, she may have had him killed for some reason, whether it be jealousy or revenge. For this reason alone, Frank saw it as his duty to protect Tim from her.
They had been sat outside the tenement for about a half hour, talking about nothing in particular, when a woman matching Emma’s description came out of the tenement. “Woman” was a very loose term, though. As Rachel had said, she was barely sixteen. She was wearing a blue mini-dress, and her long platinum hair was teased to the limit. Most of her breasts were on display, as the dress was a little too low cut, and, even from a distance, you could see the shadows under her eyes that pointed to some form of drug abuse. Tim got out of the car first, and headed over to where the girls were huddled in a group, smoking, and on the lookout for clients. Tim approached the girl they suspected was Emma.
“You wanna fuck, big guy? Thirty dollars, an’ I’ll take you to heaven and back!” she said, in an affected little girl voice.
“Are you Emma?” he asked.
She nodded as she took a long pull on her cigarette. Tim recognised the pungent smell of marijuana.
“A friend told me I could find you here. I’ll give you fifty if you come to my car.”
Tim was hoping she would be greedy enough to come to the car where they could question her with a little privacy. Surprisingly, she agreed readily, and followed him over to the white Cavalier, where Frank was now hunched in the driver’s seat, out of plain sight.
Tim opened the door, and Emma climbed into the back seat. Tim climbed into the passenger seat.
“Hey! What the fuck’s goin’ on? I thought you wanted to fuck?”
Frank popped his head around the seat so that Emma could see him, and flashed his badge at her.
“Baltimore Homicide. We have a few questions we need to ask you, Emma. Now sit back and enjoy the ride!”
He turned the key in the ignition, gunned the engine, and pulled off down the street. Tim turned to face her.
“How old are you, Emma? Fourteen, fifteen, maybe? Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”
Emma looked at him fearfully. What the hell was going on?
“So what? Tell me what the hell you want, and let me go. I gotta livin’ to make!”
Frank pulled up in a small parking lot, which was empty apart from three cars.
“What do you know about Martin LeFevre, Emma? Is he your sugar daddy? Does he buy your drugs, Emma, huh?”
Frank stared openly at the track marks on Emma’s pitifully thin arms. She scowled.
“So what if I was fucking him? He was just another john, only he thought that I was in love with him. Asshole! I only stayed with him for the money. He thought I didn’t do this any more. Why do you wanna know about Marty, anyway?”
She tried to act cool, but the furtive look in her eyes betrayed her.
“Didn’t you know he’s dead, Emma?” asked Tim, casually. “Someone offed him a couple of nights ago. Took to him with a hunting knife. He was stabbed forty seven times in all. He’d also been shot with a .32. That was what killed him. The stabbing came afterwards. For fun, and to try to hide the gunshot wound. Whaddya think about that, Emma? Does that scare you?”
Emma’s face was white. She was shaking.
“Yeah, I knew he was dead, but I didn’t do it. Why would I? Like I said, I needed the money. He’s no use to me dead, is he? So why don’t you fucking let me go, and I can go and earn, seeing as I won’t be getting any more from Marty.”
Emma made to get out of the car, but Frank suddenly gunned the engine again, and moved a few feet. Emma was thrown back into the seat.
“You’re coming downtown with us, Emma. We want all of this on paper. If you’re innocent, there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” said Frank, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
They drove quickly through Little Italy, and towards Fell’s Point. Frank slowed as they neared the stationhouse.
“Well, Emma, this is where you decide whether or not you have anything to tell us about the other night. You have less than five minutes to remember what you were doing two nights ago, and whether or not you’re going to tell the truth. You’re only a kid, Emma, and if you did it, you’re going to get a lot shorter sentence if you tell us now. If we find out you lied, then we’ll nail your ass to the wall! Get that?”
Frank was fuming, and was in no mood to be fucked about by sulky teenagers.
Emma scowled again, and nodded. They pulled up outside the stationhouse, and Tim got out of the car, opened the back door, and pulled Emma out.
“What the fuck d’ya think you’re doin’, man? Get the hell offa me! I’ll scream the whole fuckin’ place down if you don’t let go!”
Emma was kicking and struggling to get away, but a couple of uniforms noticed, and helped Tim to get her to the second floor. Tim and the uniformed officers pulled her into the box, and she started to kick and scream. They let go of her arms, and she picked up a chair, and threw it at a window. It bounced off harmlessly.
“Toughened glass, Emma. You can’t break it. Now sit down and shut up for five minutes.”
Grudgingly, she turned the chair around, and sat, leaning on the back. Suddenly, Frank entered the box, grabbed her right hand, and cuffed her to the table.
“Hey, you motherfucker! Take this fuckin’ thing offa me! I ain’t done nothin’! You can’t do this!”
Emma dissolved into hot, adolescent tears; big baby sobs wracking her whole body. Tim and Frank stood at the back of the box, watching impassively as Emma reverted to the child that she really was. Frank pulled up a chair, and sat facing Emma across the table. Tim remained standing at the back of the box.
“Where were you the night before last, Emma? And I’m talkin’ between 2 and 4am. Who were you with?”
He watched her intently for any signs of emotion related to the question. She sat there with a rebellious look on her face.
“I was with Marty all night. We went to the Blue Angel. He wanted to see this bitch sing, he was her agent or somethin’. I know they used to fuck, too. We went there at about 11, had a coupla drinks, then went home ‘bout one. I had some more to drink, musta passed out. I woke up next mornin’ ‘bout 10, Marty wasn’t there. So I went to work. How was I s’posed to know the dumb fuck got himself killed? You ask me, you ought t’be talkin’ to that bitch we saw sing. She stunk! She hated him, too. He went into her dressin’ room in a break, and you could hear screamin’ and things gettin’ thrown about. Ask Guy at the club; he heard it too.”
She lapsed into a sulky silence again.
Tim slapped his hand against the wall.
“How much do you spend on heroin a day, Emma? $150? $200? I bet you were high that night, too, weren’t you? You had to be high to get through Martin seeing his ex, didn’t you? You never heard a fight, he never went into the dressing room, did he, Emma? Huh? You’re jealous of Rachel Meyers because she had a career, a career that Martin helped with. You’re jealous, and you want that bitch to pay for hurting you, don’t you, Emma?”
Tim was almost shouting now, and his voice was hoarse with accusation. He was wandering about the box, making wild gestures with his hands for effect. “
You had already won, but you wanted her to pay, didn’t you? That’s why you’re making up this fight. What really happened, Emma? Was it you and Marty that had the fight? Did he tell you didn’t want you any more, that you were too old? Did you shoot him, Emma, huh?” Tim slammed his hands down on the table. “Was it you who killed Marty?”
Tim moved away to the back wall of the box again. Frank pulled his chair closer to the table.
“How do you know Guy at the Blue Angel, Emma? Does he help set you up with johns while you’re at his club?”
Emma looked at Frank with malice in her eyes.
“I don’t know him. Marty introduced me to him the other night. That’s the only reason I know his name. Are you bastards going to let me go now?”
She was tugging on the cuffs, making enough noise for it to become annoying. Frank reached over and unlocked the cuffs.
“You can go now. We’ll be needing to talk to you again, so if you do a disappearing act, you’re in a lot of trouble. Okay?”
She nodded moodily, and allowed a uniformed officer to escort her from the building.
Frank slammed the door of the box, and turned on Tim, who was sat on the edge of the table with his head in his hands.
“What were you thinking of, Tim? You scared the hell out of her! She’s only a child, for God’s sake!”
Tim looked reproachingly at Frank.
“I think she’s involved. She’s tough, and that may have been the only way to get to her. She was about to crack when you went all “Mr. Nice Guy” on her! Look Frank, it’s late, and I don’t want to get into this now. We’ll go and visit Guy first thing in the morning, give him the surprise of his life. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a shift at the Waterfront. Goodbye, Frank.”
With that, Tim turned on his heel and left the box.
“You mean you don’t have a hot date tonight?” Frank called after him.