The Elevator Murders

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“So how was your day?” Dan asked Monday evening, as soon as Tony took a seat at the table in the club where he and his friends usually hung out.

“You do not want to know,” Tony told him, flagging down a waiter to order a beer.

“Story not talking again?”

“It babbling, thank God.” Tony nodded at Greg, who had slid into another chair. “And I finished the article on upcoming events and attractions for the local tourist magazine, so that’s out of my hair.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Dan asked.

“As soon as I get my drink I’ll tell you.” As if Tony had said the magic words, the waiter showed up seconds later to put the bottle on the table. Tony paid, then took a deep drink. “I needed that.” He noticed his hand was shaking as he set the bottle back down.

Greg rested his elbows on the table, staring at Tony. “Problems?”

Tony nodded, lowering his voice as he said, “Someone was murdered in my apartment building and I found the body.”

“The hell you say.” Dan practically shouted, before clapping a hand over his mouth. “Tell all,” he said, keeping his voice down.

“I thought I heard someone in need of help, so I went looking. I got as far as the third floor, walking up because the elevator was…well, being the elevator, I thought.”

“Meaning slower than molasses,” Greg said, having ridden in it a time or two.

“Yeah. That’s what I figured, anyway. I was going to knock on doors to see if anyone else had heard the same thing. Actually, I did knock on a couple of them but no one answered, so I decided everyone was probably at work because if they had heard what I did, they’d be out in the hall. Anyway, I tried the elevator again and while I was waiting a guy who lives on three appeared. Older man, maybe in his sixties. Not that that matters. So we talked until the elevator came. The door opened…” He shuddered and took another drink.

“The body was in there?” Greg asked with macabre relish.

“Yeah. Damn. Thank God Alan, that’s the old man, was there, too, or I’d probably have lost it. We called the cops. When they showed up I had to explain what I’d heard. I think they believed me.”

“Or they think you killed the guy…It was a guy, right?” When Tony nodded, Dan continued. “They don’t, do they?”

“They didn’t act like it, and I’m here, not in jail, so I sure hope not.”

“Was there lots of blood?” Greg asked ghoulishly. “How was he killed?”

“I think…stabbed. I sure didn’t go in to check but that’s what the wounds looked like,” Tony replied, shooting him a look of disgust. “You’re getting too much fun out of this.”

“Blame it on my misspent youth, watching too many horror movies.”

“Youth?” Dan eyed him. “You went to one just last week if I remember right.”

Greg shrugged. “So I’m a fan of blood and gore. Shoot me.”

Tony hissed in a breath, finishing his beer in one big gulp then holding the bottle up to let the waiter know he wanted another.

“Is your name going to be on the news as a witness?” Dan asked.

“I hope not. I’m not a witness. I just found the body. I snuck out the back door of the building to the parking lot, as soon as the detective said I was free to leave. When I say snuck, I mean it. I didn’t want to be accosted if there were reporters hanging around. Got my car and beat it the hell away from there.”

Dan smirked. “And came here to cry on our shoulders.”

“No, I came to get a drink or ten so I can forget what I saw. It was horrible.”

“What was horrible?” someone asked from behind Tony.

He turned to see who it was and wished he hadn’t. The man who stood there was beyond handsome—and a real prick, in Tony’s estimation. “Nothing you need to know about, Kirk,” he replied coldly.

“Sorry I asked,” Kirk muttered, starting to walk away. Then he said, “You looked angry, or upset.”

“So, of course you had to find out why so you’d have a story to tell whoever you decided to take home tonight. Well, that’s not happening.”

“f**k you, too,” Kirk spat out as he turned on his heel, heading toward the bar.

“Also not happening,” Tony said under his breath.

Dan eyed him, almost smiling. “Still got a thing for him?”

Tony snorted. “I’ve never had a thing for him, the conceited asshole. Thinks he can have any guy he wants just by snapping his fingers.”

“He can snap them in my direction anytime,” Greg said. “But then, I’m as easy as he is.”

“Maybe easier?” Dan swatted Greg’s shoulder, laughing. That earned him a raised finger and a grin from Greg.

Tony shook his head at his friends’ antics, because what they were kidding about wasn’t quite the truth. Greg was not easy, far from it. Unfortunately, they’re joking did not keep Tony’s thoughts from going back to the murder.

“Hey,” Dan said, obviously picking up on why Tony was frowning. “Stop thinking about it.”

“Easy for you to say. You didn’t see a dead body where you live.”

“Do cockroaches count?”

“Dan…” Tony sighed, paying for the beer the waiter handed him, then taking a drink. “What’s really scary is the fact I don’t know if whoever killed him was still around. I mean, while I was trying to find out if anyone else had heard the poor guy beg for his life. And what if the killer lives in the building?”

“I’m sure the cops are checking that out,” Greg said. “After all, whoever did it must have been covered with blood. Right? His clothes and his shoes at least. All they have to do is look for bloody footprints.”

Tony nodded. That made sense, unless…“If he planned the killing, he would have come prepared with fresh shoes, or taken the bloody ones off as he left the elevator.”

“Look at the bright side,” Dan said. “You can work this into one of your stories. Intrepid detective needs to solve a murder in his…Hmm. His office building, before the killer can stop him.”

Tony smiled a bit. “I could, if I wrote detective stories.”

“No time like the present to start.”

“I think I’ll pass. I know nothing about detective work.”

“Research, Tony. Research.”

“Or follow the cops around,” Greg put in. “Especially if they’re cute.”

“They aren’t,” Tony replied. “And they’re older, to boot. Somehow I doubt they’d let me shadow them.”

“Well, damn.”

* * * *

From his seat at the bar, Kirk watched Tony and his friends, wondering why Tony had seemed so upset. Not that it’s any of my business, as he very plainly let me know. Too bad. If he’d been willing to talk to me, it might have given me a chance with him. Kirk wasn’t certain why that mattered. No—he did know. He had always thought that Tony was an interesting man. Someone he’d like to know better. But with my reputation, that’s not happening. Like everyone else, he thinks I’m only after one thing—adding notches to my bedpost. True, I guess. s*x, with no obligations once it’s over.

That was what he wanted people to believe. He knew he was good-looking and played on it so that no one would get to know the man behind the façade. The man whose parents had brought him up to believe his looks were all that counted.

“You’re very handsome,” his father had told him more than once. “With that going for you, and a good education, everything you want will fall in your lap. The perfect job. The right woman.” His father should know. It was how he’d led his life.

Tony had believed every word his father had said, until he was out of school and working as a marketing manager for an advertising firm. He liked the job, or he wouldn’t have taken it. He didn’t like it when his parents had set into motion the second step in their plan for him—finding him a suitable wife. That wasn’t going to happen, for the simple reason that he was gay—something he had never revealed to his parents.

“Dad would disown me in a heartbeat,” he’d told one of his short-term lovers.

“And you care, why?” the guy had replied.

“He’s my father,” was Kirk’s somewhat baneful reply. “In spite of everything, I like him. I don’t want him to be disappointed in me.”

He had been certain the guy thought he was a wuss at that point. Not that he gave a damn. Their brief fling was already in its death throes.

Kirk took another pull on his beer before looking around the club to see if there was anyone who caught his fancy. Other than Tony. That is not happening, so deal, he admonished himself.

* * * *

Tony finally relaxed enough to let thoughts of the murder go, for the time being. He was certain they’d come back with a vengeance when he returned home, but for the moment he was enjoying bantering with his friends as they checked out, and made comments about, some of the more interesting, unattached males around the room.

While they did, Tony got the feeling someone was doing the same thing to him. For some reason, it gave him a creepy feeling, raising the hair on his arms. He looked around, trying to find whoever it was, and caught Kirk looking at him. Kirk quickly turned away—his gaze going to a guy at the end of the bar.

It must have been him. Like he’d stand a chance. I’m not into one-night stands, especially with someone who flaunts that he is.

When Tony saw Kirk move down the bar to talk to the guy he’d apparently been interested in, and then watched as they left the club, he was relieved—and surprisingly, somewhat upset.

Dan leaned over to say under his breath, “Don’t let it get to you.”

With feigned innocence, Tony replied, “Let what get to me?”

“His lordship leaving with that twink.”

“He did? I can’t say I noticed.”

Dan lifted an eyebrow, replying, “Uh-huh,” before changing the subject.

The rest of the evening went as most of his visits to the club did, including the fact that—his earlier comment to the contrary—Tony stopped at two beers, switching to club soda with a twist of lemon, instead. By ten, he was ready to leave so he said goodnight to his friends and did.

As he drove into the lot at his building, he took a deep breath. “It’s going to be fine. I won’t have nightmares. I won’t.” He did avoid using the elevator, but then, he generally walked up the flight of stairs to his floor anyway, unless he was lugging something, like groceries.

When he was inside his apartment, he turned on all the lights, immediately chastised himself for being foolish and turned them off, except for the ones in his bedroom and the bath. Undressing quickly, he showered, got into bed, and read to keep his mind off the murder until, exhausted and bleary-eyed, he set his glasses on the night stand, rolled over, and soon fell asleep.