They pulled off Lake Shore Drive. Moments later they were parked illegally in the bus stop on Belmont near Broadway. They walked back to Dinning’s. It was four AM on Sunday. Not the slightest whiff of a breeze interrupted the misery of their damp torsos.
It took five minutes for Dinning to answer Fenwick’s pounding. Anxiety and fear filled Dinning’s eyes as he opened the door to them. Besides a frown that deepened the sadness of his brown eyes, he wore only a pair of tight, white athletic shorts that emphasized the slimness of his hips. Moments later they heard a voice ask, “Raoul, who is it?” Ralph Zuyland entered the room in a yellow T-shirt, maroon shorts, and flip flops.
“Getting an exclusive?” Fenwick asked.
“This isn’t what you think,” Zuyland said.
Dinning’s hurt tones thrummed as he said, “You told me there wouldn’t be any more lies.”
Turner said, “I think it’s exactly what I think it is. We’re going to talk.”
Zuyland and Dinning sat on opposite ends of a leather couch. Turner and Fenwick faced them in armless easy chairs, the kind Turner hated.
Fenwick asked Zuyland, “Are you gay?”
“What difference does it make?”
“What were you doing in that washroom when you got tasered?” Fenwick asked.
“Nothing. Using the washroom. Because I’m gay in a washroom doesn’t mean I’m preying on random straight people.”
Fenwick said, “They just happened to trap you.”
Zuyland said, “Yes.”
Turner said, “But the incident in the bar didn’t just happen. It was a total set up.”
Zuyland said, “I told you it was.”
Turner said, “Preston and Belger were in it with you.”
Zuyland said, “You can’t prove that. They haven’t said anything.”
“You just did,” Turner said. “Belger can’t, but Preston will. It’ll all unravel.”
Dinning said, “I can’t take this. Yes, yes, it was all a set up.”
Zuyland gaped.
Dinning turned his sorrowful eyes on him. “You may be used to this, but this is it. I was made a fool of. I won’t be used anymore.”
Zuyland had the grace not to plead some flimsy excuse.
Turner asked, “Why did Belger and Preston go along with the conspiracy?”
Zuyland said, “I told you. I’m a good investigative reporter. They had grievances. They had problems. Belger hated his partner. He hated Boyle. Hell, as far as I could tell he hated everyone including himself.”
“But weren’t you angry at him as well?” Turner asked.
Zuyland smirked. “One at a time. One at a time.”
“Did you know the bartender had sex with both of them?” Fenwick asked.
The smirk disappeared in a jaw-dropping gape. “She told me she didn’t like them. She told me she needed money. I gave her a great deal. Belger helped to convince her.”
“Why did Belger go along?”
“I convinced him that I could prove his partner was setting him up. Belger was paranoid anyway. I just fed his fear. And he wasn’t the brightest bulb.”
“And was Callaghan setting him up?” Turner asked.
Fenwick added, “With the Feds? You have an ‘in’ to the Feds?”
Zuyland said, “I have an ‘in’ everywhere. And I’m willing to use any edge I can. And if I don’t have it, I’m willing to make it up. I’m used to investigating. Don’t get all high and mighty with me. You cops make it up as well. Usually I’m believed. I have kept my job all these years based on my reputation for getting it right. And Belger was a worrier. He’s the one who worried about them being caught.” He thumped his chest. “I told him only he had complaints in his file, not Callaghan. He figured he was going to be put out as the fall guy. I helped that notion, along with stories I told him that intimated that I had an inside track on the latest Federal investigation of Chicago police. All I did was stoke his own paranoia.”
“Maybe it got him killed,” Turner said. “If it did, you’re an accessory to murder.”
Zuyland said, “I didn’t kill anybody.”
Fenwick said, “You were challenging cops. You may or may not have known how dangerous that was, but you involved innocent people in your anger and your conspiracy.”
“We were all angry. We’d all been fucked over by the cops. We knew what we were doing.”
“How’d you know about their files?” Turner asked.
“Friends and sources and people on the side of decent people who wanted these guys to go down. To bring them down in any way it could happen; through the law, through screaming headlines, through news video, whatever it took. Callaghan first. Then Belger.”
Turner said, “You’re also responsible for Callaghan turning on Belger. You gave Callaghan false information as well.”
“Are you saying Callaghan killed Belger?” Zuyland asked.
Fenwick said, “This isn’t a scoop, and if I were you, I’d worry more about being a suspect than a reporter at this moment.”
“Did you kill Belger?” Turner asked.
“Don’t be absurd.”
Fenwick said, “But you betrayed Belger.”
Zuyland said, “I’d have betrayed anybody.”
Dinning gasped. “Including me?”
The ill-clad Zuyland gaped at his barely-clad overnight host.
Turner asked, “Do you guys know Delmar Cotton and Bill Grant?”
They spoke simultaneously. “Yes,” Dinning said.
“No,” Zuyland said.
“Well, well, well,” Fenwick said. “You were all in on it. I guess we’ll have to talk to Cotton and Grant again.”
Zuyland said, “They were just among the guys who had grievances.”
Dinning said, “Don’t lie. They were part of the planning.”
“Fine,” Zuyland said. “They helped us plan the bar incident. That’s all. We didn’t, and they didn’t have anything to do with the murder.”
Dinning said, “I never heard anybody plan murder. Ever.”
“What about the cops who helped you that night?” Fenwick asked.
Dinning said, “You told me they just showed up.”
Zuyland blushed. “I didn’t mean to lie. They have nothing to do with this. Nothing. And I won’t give you their names. I won’t. They’re not gay. They weren’t at the Black and Blue party. I just won’t. Arrest me if you need to, but I won’t.”
Fenwick and Turner let a silence build. Dinning refused to look at Zuyland. Turner didn’t hold out much hope for wedding cake and a commitment ceremony. He asked, “When did you guys start your relationship?”
“This afternoon after you talked to us,” Dinning said.
“Newlyweds,” Fenwick said.
The detectives left.
Fenwick asked, “Zuyland is gay? And all of our guys left something out. I hate that.”
“I’m going to have to have my gaydar chip examined. It was never very good in the first place. I just hope they don’t take the toaster back.”
“Toaster?” Fenwick asked.
“The one we get when we sign up for being gay.”
“Attempts at humor at this hour of the morning are a Class A felony.”
Turner yawned then said, “If you arrest me, will I be able to get some sleep?”
“Not unless I get some, too.”
Turner said, “We gotta go back round and round again, but I dunno. I don’t picture those guys being able to plan murder. Grant, Cotton, and Dinning are ordinary guys who would be showing some level of upset at committing murder.”
“Zuyland?” Fenwick asked.
“I think he’d run over his grandmother with a bus if he needed it for a story or to get even.”
In the car Fenwick said, “Dinning is hot. Zuyland is not. Explain them being together.”
“I don’t have a clue. Ask the goddess. Or ask Madge why she stays married to you.”
“Zing.”
Turner said, “Grant and Cotton lied to us.”
“They all lied to us. They were all in on the conspiracy.”
“Organized by Zuyland.”
“They kill Belger?” Fenwick asked.
“He was part of the conspiracy.”
“Maybe some of the planners weren’t telling the whole truth to the rest of the planners.”
Turner said, “It was a dual conspiracy.”
“Huh?”
Turner said, “Boyle et al were out to get Belger. Zuyland et al were out to get Belger and Callaghan. Their paths crossed. Their conspiracies crossed.”
“They were all in on it?”
“All of them were mucking around. Some in over their heads like Dinning or maybe he was just on the periphery, maybe the same for Cotton and Grant. That doesn’t account for Callaghan’s clean file and who is protecting him and why.”
Fenwick said, “We can’t prove any of that.”
“We’ll use your method,” Turner said. “We’ll shoot them all.”
Fenwick said, “Finally, a convert.”
Turner said, “Grant and Cotton first.” It was five in the morning but the two men weren’t home. Turner checked his notes and found Grant’s cell phone number. The two men were still at the Black and Blue party. He ordered them to wait there for them.
This time the detectives simply bulled past the door wards. Turner’s exhaustion was as palpable as the humidity. They took Sanchez and Deveneaux with them.
Cotton and Grant waited in the tower room with Slade. Cotton and Grant wore black leather chaps over tight jeans and black leather vests over taut chests. The front of Cotton’s pants was soaked and smelled of urine.
Slade started to burble. Fenwick pointed at him and said, “Get out.” There was no denying the fury and command in Fenwick’s voice. Turner guessed his buddy was as fed up and exhausted as he was.
With barely another murmur, Slade left. As Slade passed through the doorway, Fenwick said to Sanchez, the beat cop, “Would you locate Mr. Bryner and bring him up here.”
Turner asked, “Did you finish showing the pictures to all the registration people?”
Sanchez nodded, pulled out one of the pictures. “They thought this guy came in with Bryner. You know who he is? He looks familiar.”
It was Franklin Armour. Turner told him who he was and his position in the department. Sanchez whistled. “He’s here now. With Bryner. The guys at the door said they came in together.”
Turner said, “Bring them both.”
Fenwick said, “Now we know who his clout is in the city. Did they kill Belger?”
Turner said, “Awfully suspicious, but one set of suspects at a time.”
Cotton and Grant sat on chairs. They held hands, their arms and legs pushed together.
Fenwick said, “You fuckers didn’t tell us everything.”
Cotton said, “You fuckers never did anything to stop those assholes. We did nothing wrong. We got a shit-ass cop off the streets. Something nobody else in this city seemed willing to do.”
Fenwick said, “You talking about Belger or Callaghan?”
“We had nothing to do with Belger’s death.”
“Did you know Peter Scanlan?”
“Who?” Cotton asked.
Turner thought his mystification was genuine.
“Kid was killed here earlier.”
“Why would we know him?”
Turner asked, “What was the plan with Belger and Callaghan?”
Grant and Cotton confirmed the story they’d heard from Zuyland. “We knew of the plan at the bar. If that didn’t work, we were ready to try other things.”
“Murder?” Fenwick asked.
“No, never,” Grant said.
The detectives went over every detail of Grant and Cotton’s story. The two men claimed every word they said was true. Turner and Fenwick let them go.
Sanchez ushered in Bryner and Armour.
Armour said, “What the hell is going on?”
Fenwick said, “Did you kill Belger?”
“What nonsense is this?”
Fenwick glared.
Armour said, “I’m leaving.”
Turner said, “No.” Fenwick could bluster with the best of them, but when Turner gave an order with that quiet command, few chose to disobey.
Everyone sat.
Bryner said, “Well, you got your wish. This whole thing has been shut down.”
Fenwick asked, “Your clout in the city couldn’t save you this time.” He turned to Armour. “You’ve lost your touch.”
“Fuck you,” Armour said.
Turner said to Bryner, “What happened to your boyfriend in Des Moines?”
Bryner instantly flared into rage. “How dare you bring that up? That has nothing to do with this convention, with these murders.”
Fenwick asked, “How’d you get the whole thing suppressed?”
Bryner could barely control his breathing as he spoke. “No one, no one, accuses me of killing my boyfriend. No one.”
The detectives let the silence build. Bryner looked from one to the other.
Bryner asked, “Do we sit here in silence until we die of boredom?”
Fenwick said, “If you’d like, you could sit until you keel over.”
Bryner said, “You think this is funny?”
Fenwick said, “What I think is funny is you getting away with murder in Des Moines. What I think is not funny is that there are two murders at your convention. Why do people die around things you touch?”
“I had nothing to do with them. Nothing. To. Do. With. Any. Of. Them. Nothing.” He collapsed back into a chair and said, “You two can sit there like great Buddhas, but I’m done talking.”
Turner said to Armour, “What’s your role in all this? Why were you at the meeting with Boyle?”
“I was told to go.”
“Bullshit,” Fenwick said. “You manipulated yourself into it.”
“Speculate all you want. Speculation doesn’t get you a conviction.”
“Conviction,” Turner said. “Yes, you need to be convicted. You guys got the Scanlan kid killed.”
Armour said, “I got him released.”
Turner said, “Which got him killed. Why did you release him?”
“He didn’t do anything,” Armour said.
Turner said, “He was an underaged kid at this party. That’s a lethal dose of publicity right there. Was protecting this party worth getting him killed? Death was better?”
“For these guys,” Fenwick said.
“Fuck you,” Armour said.
Fenwick said, “Did you guys kill Belger?”
Armour said, “Whatever for? He may have been an embarrassment to the department, but he certainly wasn’t to me. Not while he was alive. Not while he’s dead. Him I don’t care about. You’re going to have to look elsewhere for your killer. You’ve got nothing on us.”
“Not yet,” Turner said. “What’s the connection between Boyle and Callaghan?”
Armour said, “All I know is Nance was always sticking up for Boyle. You can look into that yourself. I know nothing about Boyle and Callaghan. I don’t deal with personnel issues.”
“Why would Nance stick up for him?” Fenwick asked.
“He’s his clout,” Turner said.
“What do you know about them?” Fenwick asked.
“Nothing,” Armour said.
Fenwick growled, “There’s gotta be something. Speculate.”
Armour said, “Unlike you two, I’m loyal. I’m not saying anything more.”
And not another word would they say even after a lawyer showed up.
In the car Fenwick asked, “They kill Belger?”
“They who?”
“Take your pick.”
“I don’t think so. I’m just not sure so.”
Fenwick asked, “Was that piss on the front of Cotton’s pants?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Should we have questioned them separately?”
Turner sighed. “I really don’t want this to be about a gay revenge squad. I really don’t want a gay person accused of murder. Yes, I know gay people commit murder. Just, I don’t want it to be this time. We’re going to question Boyle. That asshole has a lot to answer for.”
“We tell Molton first?” Fenwick asked.
“Is there a choice?” Turner asked. “I’m angry, but I’m not stupid.”
Fenwick agreed. Turner put his cell phone on speaker so Fenwick could hear his conversation with Molton.
When Molton answered, the Commander said, “I’ve got news. I have test results.”
“So soon?” Fenwick asked.
“Unlike other Commanders who shall remain nameless, I actually do have friends in the crime lab, but even then I wouldn’t have asked if this wasn’t a huge priority.”
“What did they get?”
“The whip Boyle had with Scanlan’s prints and Belger’s blood?”
“Fake?” Fenwick said.
“Real. It did have Scanlan’s prints and Belger’s blood. Several prints were in the blood.”
“Scanlan killed him?” Fenwick asked.
Turner said, “The whipping didn’t kill him.”
Molton said, “But Scanlan whipped him.”
Turner said, “But Armour let him go, not Boyle.”
Fenwick said, “Boyle had the whip.”
Molton put in, “Said his people found it.”
“Bullshit,” Fenwick said.
Molton said, “I do believe that is the correct medical term.”
Turner said, “Scanlan was on the tape for the booth Belger was at. Proximity doesn’t get you a conviction, but it puts you on your way.”
“He’s dead,” Fenwick said.
“I hate that in a witness,” Turner said. He explained that their next step was to confront Boyle.
Molton said, “Get him.”
“You’re not going to try and stop us?” Fenwick asked.
Molton said, “You will be fine. You are among the best detectives I’ve ever seen. I have absolute faith in you. This hour of the morning, he’d be at Gracie Heaney’s Diner.”
Fenwick said, “Never heard of it.”
Molton said, “It’s a hangout for brass.”
“They don’t let us low lifes in?” Fenwick asked.
“It’s very exclusive,” Molton said. He gave them the address.