My Father, My Son
(Revised)
by: Tom Borden

2000-2008 by the author

 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

 

As Michael sat still clutching his wilting penis and breathing heavily, he turned his head and saw Clayton and Tony in the window, smiling broadly and giving the thumbs up. Michael began feeling better. Perhaps it was just having gone through a great orgasm. But he thought it was more likely the sight of those dear, young faces smiling at him.

Chapter 52 

 

Mark and Corky's two-year anniversary celebration had definitely turned into an exciting and unusual evening. Not only did it include a third party, but having a blind person in their bed was an experience they had not anticipated. To have been "viewed" so effectively and thoroughly through this man's fingers was in itself a rare adventure.

After the light was turned down, Mark said, "Pierre, how about letting us have the experience of seeing what you look like through our fingers?"

Pierre said, "You guys have already seen with your eyes what I look like. But if you insist, I would be the last to object!"

Mark turned the light all the way off, so they were now in almost total darkness, except for a very dim glow coming in from the street lights outside.

Mark said, "Pierre, I'm going to see what you look like with my tongue, as well as my fingers."

Mark kissed Pierre on the lips, pushing his tongue gently into Pierre's mouth. Then he ran the tip of his tongue over Pierre's face. It tickled his tongue as Mark ran it lightly over Pierre's long thick eyelashes. He could feel a light stubble on Pierre's cheeks as he ran his tongue over his nose, ears and lips. Corky started giving Pierre a tongue bath, beginning at his ankles and moving up over the soft hair on his calves and thighs. Pierre's erotic looking tan line was just barely visible in the dim light. Corky traced his tongue along the line and then licked and sucked on the soft, limp skin of Pierre's ball sack, feeling the two large balls rolling around inside.

As Mark ran his tongue over Pierre's chest and sucked and nibbled on his large nipples, Pierre reached up and ran his fingers through Mark's thick curly hair, and then down over his neck and back. Corky sucked in Pierre's hard penis. Then pulling off, he said, "My God, this is the largest cock I've ever seen!"

Pierre said, "It's a little over nine inches. My father measured it once."

"Your father?" said Corky

"Oh, I'll tell you about that later," sighed Pierre.

When Mark and Corky had completed Pierre's tongue bath, Pierre begged each of them to fuck him. "It's been so long since I've felt a man inside of me. I want you both inside of me."

"You mean, both at the same time?" asked Mark.

"Yes, I want both of you inside of me at the same time."

Mark and Corky lay on their backs and slipped up to each other so that their penises were standing up pressed together, standing as one large cock. Pierre stood up over them and slowly squatted. As he lowered himself, he reached down and took hold of the massive double cock and guided it up into his ass crack. Then he slowly lowered himself down, taking the two hard penises into his asshole. They slid in easily. As Pierre started rising up and down on this huge rod, Mark and Corky had the strange sensation of rubbing only on one side of their penises. Pierre began to bounce up and down furiously, taking the whole thing all the way to the hilt.

Mark and Corky soon began to feel the signs that their orgasms were close. Mark said, "I'm about to cum." Corky said, "I am too!" Luckily each started to cum at the same moment, and they each could feel the other's penis throbbing against his own with every surge of sperm they shot into Pierre's rectum. Never before had they felt such an erotic experience. Pierre was facing toward Mark's head, and at the moment he felt the load of sperm being pumped into him and the two hard penises rubbing against his prostate, his own orgasm took over his body and he shot stream after stream of his own hot cum onto Mark's chest, with some landing on his chin.

All three had had almost simultaneous orgasms, and were totally spent. They collapsed onto their backs next to each other, almost completely out of breath. In a few moments, Pierre rose up and leaned over Mark to lick up all the sperm that he had deposited on Mark's chest and chin. Then he lay back and raised his legs high so that his thighs were tight against his chest. Mark and Corky looked at the asshole they had just fucked. It was too much for Corky. Looking at the white cream that was now dribbling out of Pierre's asshole, Corky went down and sucked as much of it out as he could. Then he gave Mark a chance.

Corky said, "I've never seen such a load of cum. It just keeps coming out."

As they lay beside one another and idly running their hands over their bodies, Mark said, "Now Pierre, what's this you said about your father? Did he really measure your penis?"

Pierre smiled and said, "He sure did. When I was about fifteen and was losing my sight quite badly, my dad came into my bed one night and told me he loved me as his son, and he wanted me to know that love also involves physical love. I remember he kissed me all over my body. He came in and did that at night for a long time. It felt so good to have him love my body like that. Then one night, he started sucking my penis. My very first orgasm was when my penis was in my father's mouth. This went on for several years, and I loved it. And we often fucked each other."

"So you were both loving it, not just him?" said Corky.

"Yeah. Then my mom found out about it, but she couldn't do anything about it. I used to hear them arguing about it, and he just told her to butt out. It really made her life miserable. Then a couple of years before I came over here to the States, my dad got really sick and died. All our friends and relatives were convinced that she had poisoned him, but nobody could prove it. And ever since then, my mom has never let me out of her sight, except when I first started playing in a club in Paris. My mom was on her way to pick me up one night after the club closed. But before she got there, the manager of the club asked me to come back to his office for a minute. When I got there, I couldn't see, but I heard the voices of two of the bartenders. To make a long story short, all three of them fucked me on the leather sofa in his office. And I loved it. When they were done, the manager wanted me to fuck him while the two bartenders watched. My mom was out on the sidewalk, frantic because the front doors were locked and she couldn't get in. Finally, a night watchman who had seen her before when she came to pick me up, let her in. When she didn't see me, she went right back to the manager's office just while I was fucking the manager, and the two bartenders were jerking off while they watched."

"That's unbelievable!" said Corky.

"Well, from that moment on, mom never let me out of her sight. From then on, she always sat right next to me at the piano and kept her eagle eye out for trouble. She knew that I liked guys and she knew I liked to get fucked, but she wasn't going to let it happen to me again.

"But your mother died later, right?"

"Mom died of a heart attack, and I thought, now that I was free at last, I could find some guys to fuck with. But nobody ever approached me for that during these last two years, until you guys came along. This has been one of the most wonderful evenings of my life. And I think I love you both."

Mark and Corky, who were lying on either side of Pierre, rolled close to him and put their arms around him. Mark said, "And we love you, too, Pierre."

The next morning, Mark and Corky took Pierre back to his rooming house where they found the door unlocked. As they opened it, another roomer was just coming out. They explained to him about Pierre losing his key, and the roomer kindly said that he had an extra, which Pierre could have.

Mark hugged Pierre and said, "Pierre, we consider you our new friend, and we would like to see you again. You are a nice, talented person, and we would like to be your friends."

Pierre reached into his pocket and took out his card. "You already know where I live, but my phone number is listed there, too. So please call me. I really want to see you again."

Adriano and his father, Mario, were continuing to have trouble with Elmer Flatt. Mario had had several more serious altercations with Flatt in the hallway of their apartment house. Adriano and Mario planned to go out to dinner one evening and have a few drinks at Mario's favorite haunt, The Nest. As they were about to get into the car, Mario realized that he had forgotten his wallet. As Adriano waited in the car, Mario returned to the apartment to retrieve his wallet. Then they were off for what they hoped to be a pleasant evening.

Adriano and Mario returned home fairly early since Adriano had an early morning summer session class the next day. When they arrived, they saw several police cars and an ambulance on the street in front of the building, all with lights flashing. After taking the elevator to their floor, they found the hall filled with police and others milling around. Then they saw it. Old Elmer Flatt was on the floor in front of his apartment door, lying in a pool of blood.

Asking what had happened, one of the onlookers said, "The old bastard's been murdered. It happened several hours ago, and the police have been fooling around here all this time, trying to get evidence, I guess. They won't let them remove the body until they're finished."

Adriano and Mario looked upon the scene with horror. A knife was still sticking out of Elmer Flatt's chest. Adriano approached one of the men who looked like he might be a detective, crouching down surveying the body. "Sir, this is our apartment here," said Adriano. "We're a neighbor. I wonder if this stretcher lying here across our doorway could be removed so we can get in."

The detective stood up and ordered someone to move the stretcher. Then he said, "We'll be making an inquiry into this, and we'll be interviewing everyone who lives here. You don't plan to leave town or anything, do you?"

"No sir, we'll be here," said Adriano as he unlocked his door, and they both went in."

Adriano and Mario fixed themselves another drink and sat down in shock. The idea that someone was murdered right outside their door was hard to believe. Mario sat silently and stared out of the window, saying nothing. Adriano looked at Mario and said, "Dad, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," said Mario quietly. "I think I've had too much to drink. I'd like to go to bed now and go to sleep."

After they both got ready for bed, they lay quietly. Mario lay on his side with his back to Adriano. Adriano put his arm around his father and said, "Are you sure you're alright, Dad?"

"Yes," Mario muttered.

Adriano lay awake for a long time, looking at the reflection on the ceiling of the flashing lights from down below on the street. Still with his arm around Mario, he soon fell asleep.

When Francisco Guevera's show closed in San Antonio, he called Michael. "Michael, my love, I've just finished my last show a few minutes ago, and I'm in my room here at the St. Anthony."

"So you're off to New York now?" said Michael.

"Yes, but right now I'm locked in my room. Throughout both shows tonight, there was a disgusting old man sitting at a table all by himself right down in front. He kept winking at me and making kissing motions with his mouth. And the whole time he was rubbing this huge bulge in his crotch."

Michael said, "I hope you just ignored him."

"Well, Michael," said Francisco, "during the second show I could see under the table he had his penis out of his pants and was playing with it. Between shows, I had this written note delivered to me in my dressing room from him. He said he liked me very much and wanted me to be his guest at his ranch. He signed it Stiff McCoy. Can you imagine anybody being named Stiff McCoy."

"Oh, I've heard of the McCoy ranch," said Michael. "It's way out in West Texas somewhere."

"That's not the worst of it, Michael. When I came up here to my room and was unlocking the door, I looked back and saw him get off another elevator. I quickly came in here and locked the door. He hasn't knocked or anything, but I wonder if he's standing outside my door."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Francisco. I'm sure if he's out there, he'll be gone when you leave in the morning."

Francisco said, "I hope you're right, Michael. Do you know what I'm doing right now?"

"No."

"I'm lying on my bed all fresh and clean after a shower and I'm stroking a really hard cock. Mine. I wish you were here. What are you doing?"

Michael laughed. "Well, I had just gotten into bed when you called. I'm also lying here with a pretty hard cock in my hand. As soon as I heard your voice, it stiffened right up."

"Are you stroking it, my love?"

"Yes, I am," said Michael. "I'm imagining that you are lying right next to me whispering into my ear. To hear your voice in my ear while I'm jacking off here makes it kind of easy to imagine you're right here with me."

"Me, too," said Francisco. "Tell me when you're close. We'll cum together."

Michael started stroking in earnest. He imagined Francisco's brown body lying next to him, with the muscles in his legs stiffening up and pressed against his. "I'm pretty close now, Francisco."

"I am, too. I don't think I can hold it! I can feel my orgasm starting!"

As Michael listened to Francisco's moans, he knew it was time, and he let his own orgasm take over as he shot his cum onto his chest and stomach while letting our an ecstatic yell. Soon both were breathing heavily into the phone.

After a long while, Francisco said, "Now I wish I could feel your tongue on my stomach licking it clean."

Michael said, "This was wonderful. It was second best to our being together." Michael smiled to himself. He had heard of "phone sex," but had never had it before. He had let his imagination run wild, and it was really a pretty good experience.

Finally, Michael said, "When will you be leaving for New York?"

"I fly out of here tomorrow noon."

Michael said, "Remember, you had said you would try to find out something about Karl for me while you're up there. You have his father's business address. I think that's the best place to start. Do you think you'll have time to do that."

"For you, Michael, my love, I will have time for anything. I'll do my best to find out something for you. When I get up there, I'll have three days before our first show. We'll be doing some rehearsing during that time, but I'll still have some free time. I'll do my best for you, my love. I'll be in touch. Michael?"

"Yes."

"I love you very much. I hope you know that. I would like to spend my whole life with you. But I have to make a living. And traveling around doing my show is how I live. But it makes me sad every night when you're not sitting down in front at my shows where I can see you. I close my eyes sometimes when I'm out there, and I can see you there looking at me like it was in Acapulco. I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Francisco. I know we'll see each other again. I'll see to it."

After Francisco checked into his New York hotel and got settled, he walked several blocks to Karl's father's office, which was located on the thirty-fourth floor of a large office building. He spoke to the receptionist.

"My name is Francisco Guevera. I'm trying to locate Karl Oldenburg."

"Oh. Mr. Oldenburg's son?" said the receptionist, looking surprised.

"Yes."

"Well, we haven't seen him for some time now. We had heard that he was living down on some ranch in Texas."

"That's right," said Francisco. "But he returned to New York not long ago, and I'm trying to locate him."

"I really don't know anything about him," said the receptionist. "But let me see if Toby Vaughn is in. He's one of our managers here, and he and Karl were quite close friends. He may know something."

After she spoke on the phone with Toby, telling him that someone was here inquiring after Karl, Toby came out to the reception room."

"You're a friend of Karl's?" said Toby.

"Not really. I'm inquiring about him for a friend of mine."

"Okay. Come on into my office."

After Francisco explained the situation about Karl's making his home at the Walker Ranch, and then returning to New York after a disagreement, Toby leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"Francisco, my friend," said Toby. "Karl and I have always been very close, and I am completely aware of his situation. I know about his relationship with Michael Walker, and I know about the trouble that sent Karl back to New York."

Francisco said, "Michael has been very worried about Karl. He's hoping that Karl is getting the professional help he needs. Michael's also worried that he might not have enough money to sustain himself. He has been hoping that things are better between him and his father, and that he has been given the money that had been withheld from him."

"Well, the bad news," said Toby, "is that Karl's father refuses to have anything to do with him and will not reinstate the funds that once were due his son. The good news, though, is that Karl has been getting the treatment he needs, and has been very conscientious about it."

"How can Karl afford it? How can he afford to live and still pay a therapist?"

"Karl has a job waiting tables down in a little place in the Village. And he lives in a small room in a walk-up tenement down on Delancy Street. He had some savings from his work down on the ranch, which are practically gone now."

"Do you see Karl often?" inquired Francisco.

"Unknown to his father, Karl and I do see each other a lot. I have helped him from time to time in paying his weekly rent. I know what you're thinking, Francisco, since I know about his love for Michael Walker. Yes, Karl and I have often slept together. But only in those days before he left here. Now, Karl sleeps with no one. He and I get together frequently at his place or mine, but it's only to talk. He talks of his love for Michael Walker incessantly, and of his life at the ranch. He desperately misses Michael and that life he had there."

"Is Karl's therapy helping him," asked Francisco.

"I think it's helping a lot. At least, he believes it is."

"Do you think I could visit him."

"Since you're a friend of Michael's, I think he would like that. And you could assure him that Michael misses him, too. Here, I'll give you the address. I'll call him first and tell him you're coming so that you won't be a complete stranger to him. He can't afford a phone of his own, but the landlady lets him use hers on the first floor. He has a buzzer in his apartment that she rings when he has a phone call."

Francisco found the address. It was a seedy area close to China Town. He walked up the creaking stairs to the fourth floor and knocked on Karl's door. Karl, dressed only in a pair of shorts answered and invited him in.

"I was just about to warm up a can of soup for dinner." Said Karl. "Would you like some?"

"No, thank you." Francisco had a hard time keeping his eyes off of Karl's near-naked body. He could tell instantly why Michael had a sexual attraction to him. "Karl, as Mr. Vaughn told you on the phone, I am a close friend of Michael's. I'm in New York to do some shows, and he wanted me to find you and see how you were doing. He hadn't heard from you, and he misses you a lot."

Karl told Francisco to sit down. Looking at Francisco with a faint smile, he said, "I know who you are, Francisco. I never thought you and I would ever meet. I heard about you and Michael meeting in Acapulco. Secrets don't stay secrets for long."

Francisco had not been aware that Karl knew, and he was suddenly embarrassed. "Karl, it's true that we met in Acapulco, but it was clear the whole time we were together that you were on his mind every minute. And you are on his mind every minute now, too. I can tell you that he regrets deeply his running off to Mexico and blames himself for your leaving. He loves you more than anyone could love another person."

Karl covered his face with both hands, and Francisco could tell that tears were brimming up in Karl's eyes. Looking up, he said, "And he wanted you to find me and to tell me that?"

"Yes, he's told me that he never considered that you did anything wrong. He finally realized after what he considers his foolish running off that the two of you could have worked it all out. Karl, he's horribly worried about you and about whether or not you have enough money. He looks in the mail every day to see if there is a letter or a card from you. He's afraid you've fallen out of love with him completely, and he thinks it's because of the foolish thing he did."

"He still loves me?" said Karl softly. "Does he really still love me?"

"Karl, I think he'd move Heaven and Earth, if he could, to have you back."

After a long pause, Karl looked hard at Francisco, taking in the beauty of the man, and said, "Francisco, do you love, Michael? I mean, do you want him?"

"Who wouldn't want him," said Francisco with a smile. "But I was only a diversion. I've known that all along. Yes, I think I do love him, and he's told me he loves me, but I know I could never have him. My life is so much different from his. Anyway, it's you he really loves. He can get sex anywhere, but he wants love only from you. That's the truth. That's the only reason I'm here . . . to tell you the truth."

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Karl said, "I'll write Michael today."

Francisco asked, "How is your therapy coming."

"It's been an eye-opener, Francisco. I see things about myself so much clearer now. I've come to realize what love and commitment are really all about. It takes discipline to control the darker side of one's life. And now that I've come to realize that, it's not so hard to see what is really important in my life, and how fragile the love between two people can be. I had something very beautiful . . . something more beautiful than most people experience in a lifetime. I hope I can have that back some day."

"You can have it back anytime you're ready, believe me, Karl. I'm glad you're going to write him. And also, if you need money, tell him. It would be a part of the love he has for you to help you out in that way. He worries about you."

Francisco went back to his hotel room and called Michael to tell him about his visit with Karl and to expect a letter from him. When they hung up, Michael had a horse saddled and rode out to his little house in the Cottonwoods just to be alone with his thoughts. He sat on the grass in front of the house and let the tears of joy flow freely. He was so certain now that he and Karl would be reunited.

The house that Maggie and Rhapsody were building up in the Hill Country was virtually complete. Only the interior work needed to be finished. They had been going around to various furniture stores in San Antonio purchasing the furnishings, carpeting, and window coverings needed. Maggie positively refused to have any of Rhapsody's shabby and tasteless furniture in her new house. As far as Maggie was concerned, it would all have to go out to the dumpster.

The fifteen year old boy who Maggie had acquired from the cruise line continued to live with them and made himself useful every night in one or the other's bed. His name was Cecil, but he didn't know what his last name was since he had been homeless for as long as he could remember. Maggie gave him a sizeable allowance to buy any amount of new clothes he wanted, along with a large supply of video games. Maggie never tired of looking at Cecil's handsome face and body, and was particularly happy that the boy loved getting fucked as often as possible. Cecil had one night allowed Rhapsody to measure his penis when it was hard, and to Rhapsody's delight, it measured just over nine inches, an extraordinary length for a boy of just fifteen.

One day when Maggie and Rhapsody returned home from a shopping expedition, they found two young policemen at their door.

One of them said, "Are you the residents of this apartment?"

"Yes," came the answer. "What seems to be the trouble officer," cooed Rhapsody as she very obviously glued her eyes on the officer's clearly outlined ass cheeks.

"We have word that a young boy named Cecil Vanderhoff is living here. Is that right? Here's a picture of him."

Maggie stared at the picture of a young man dressed in a coat and tie, standing in front of a very smart and well-dressed man and woman. It was definitely Cecil, although younger.

Maggie said, "Why yes. His name is Cecil, but he told us he didn't know what his last name was."

"What do you mean he doesn't know what his last name is? We'd like to see him, please."

Maggie and Rhapsody ushered the policemen into the living room where they found Cecil busily engaged in a violent and noisy video game.

"Cecil, darling," said Rhapsody. "These nice officers would like to talk to you."

One of the officers turned to the other and said, "That's him." Then turning to Maggie and Rhapsody, he said, "This child has been missing from his parents for some months. We need to take him into custody and have him returned." As Maggie and Rhapsody stood speechless with their mouths hanging open, he continued. "May I ask you why you have him living here with you? Kidnapping is a very serious charge. The two of you will need to come with us down to the station for questioning."

"But officer," squealed Maggie. "We didn't kidnap him. He told us he was a homeless kid, and we were just taking him in to give him a home. Isn't he homeless?"

The officer said, "This boy is the son of Mr. and Mrs. Sheldon Vanderhoff of Los Angeles. Vanderhoff is a wealthy international financier. They reported their son missing about four months ago. He's run off for a couple of months every year since he was eleven."

Maggie asked, "How did you know he was living here?"

One of your neighbors recognized his face from a missing child picture on a milk carton and reported it.

Maggie looked at Cecil, who was now looking resigned to his fate. "Cecil, why did you lie to us?"

Cecil merely shrugged his shoulders and said nothing.

Maggie and Rhapsody and Cecil were loaded into the back of the police car and carted down to the police station. On the way, Rhapsody looked at Maggie and said angrily, "This is all your fault, you know."

Maggie murmured, "Listen, slut, you were drooling for that little asshole as much as I was."

Cecil sat between them with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

At the police station, Cecil was hustled away, while Maggie and Rhapsody were led into an interrogation room. They were questioned for about two hours by several officers, after which the police chief came in and said, "Alright, you two slime balls, we're satisfied with your story and we're not gonna charge you with kidnapping. I don't know what your game is, but looking at you, I have a pretty good idea. Before I let you go, I have only one thing to say to people like you. Keep your cocks in your pants and leave these youngsters alone. The boy told us you didn't molest him or nothin', but I've seen queers like you before, and I'm telling you I don't believe him. Now get out of here!"

Rhapsody stood up and said sweetly, "Officer, Isn't anyone going to drive us home?"

"I said get outta here!" yelled the chief.

As they were leaving, another officer rushed in and said, "Hey, the boy wants all of his clothes and his video games."

Rhapsody turned and said, "You can tell Cecil to go fuck himself!"

After the door closed behind them, they could hear the chief and the other officers laughing uproariously. Maggie and Rhapsody spent the rest of the evening arguing and blaming each other for causing all this to happen.

Detective Sergeant Willis McDougal of the Austin police department ordered that all the residents of the floor on which Elmer Flatt lived be brought in for questioning. First were Dick and Cheryl Watson, who lived at the end of the hall just across from the elevators. Dick Watson was questioned first, while his wife Cheryl remained in an anteroom.

"Now, Mr. Watson," began McDougal, "did you know Elmer Flatt?"

"Yeah, I knew the old son-of-a-bitch."

"Were you friends?"

"Shit, no! I suppose I ought to tell you he was dicking my wife in the afternoons while I was at work. I never caught him, but I knew it was happening."

"Did you kill him, Mr. Watson?"

"No, I didn't kill him, but I'm glad he's dead, the worthless bastard."

After another hour of questioning about Dick's employment and where he was during the killing, he was dismissed, and Cheryl Watson was brought in.

"Now, Mrs. Watson, we just want to ask you some questions about your whereabouts and your relationship with Elmer Flatt. It's been said that you were seeing Flatt secretly when your husband was at work. Is that true?"

Cheryl Watson fumbled with her purse and then looked up and said, "Well, so what? Anyway, that ended several weeks ago."

"Who ended it, Mrs. Watson?"

"He did. He told me I was . . . ."

"You were what, Mrs. Watson."

"He told me I was ugly and he didn't want to see me anymore."

"Did that make you angry?" questioned McDougal.

"Did it make me angry!" she shouted. "I could have kill . . . I mean . . . I . . . ."

"Did you kill him, Mrs. Watson?"

"No, of course I didn't kill him!"

"Were you home when the murder took place?"

"Yes."

Were you out in the hall anytime that evening, and did you see anyone else out there?

"I only stepped out once, and that was to go down to the first floor and look for my mail. The only person I saw was Adriano Cinella's father coming up. He said he had forgotten something. But I didn't see anyone else."

Cheryl Watson was likewise questioned for another hour and released. Questioning of the Watsons took the entire afternoon, and Detective Sergeant McDougal decided to resume the questioning the next morning with Harry and Marge Anderson, who also lived on the floor.

"Mr. Anderson, did you know Elmer Flatt very well?"

Harry Anderson said, "No I didn't know him well. But what I saw of him, I didn't like. He never had anything good to say. He was just sour all the time."

"Let me ask you a little about your neighbors, Mr. Anderson. Tell me about Adriano Cinella. I understand that his father, Mario, lives with him. How long has he been there?"

"Oh, Mario is a nice gentleman. I don't think he's been there more than a couple of weeks, if that. Before that Adriano had someone else living with him. His name was Charlie something. But he hasn't been around for a long time."

"Are you friendly with all your neighbors, other than Mr. Flatt?"

"Yes," replied Harry, "I get along great with all of them."

"Can you think of anyone in your building who might have reason to kill Mr. Flatt?"

"No, none."

After another hour of questioning, Marge Anderson was brought in.

"How have you and your husband gotten along with the Flatts?" asked McDougal.

"Well, we do alright. My husband, though, never got along with Elmer. Elmer called me a fat pig once out in the hall, and Harry punched him in the nose. And since then, he keeps telling me that he'll do worse to him if he gets a chance."

"That's strange," said McDougal. "Your husband told me that he hardly knew Mr. Flatt."

"Ha! That's a laugh," said Marge. "They had arguments just about every time they saw each other."

"Mrs. Anderson, did you ever see anyone else having trouble with Mr. Flatt."

"Oh, yes. You know, that nice young man who lives across the hall from the Flatts has his father visiting him. I think his name is Mario. Elmer never liked Italians, you know. And one day I heard a lot of yelling out in the hall, so I peeked out my door, you know. And there was Mario and Elmer yelling at each other."

"Did you hear anything they were saying?"

"Well, let me think. Oh, yes, I remember very clearly Mario shouting that he would see Elmer dead before he moved out of the building."

"Thank you, Mrs. Anderson."

That afternoon, Adriano and Mario were called in for questioning. As Mario sat in the Anteroom, Adriano was questioned by McDougal for about an hour.

"Mr. Sinella," began McDougal.

Adriano interrupted. "That's Cinella. The 'C' is pronounced like 'Ch' Like Chinella. Okay?"

"Okay. Mr. Cinella. I do apologize for the inconvenience we caused you. But you can understand that we need to ask certain questions. What was your relationship with Mr. Flatt?"

"Actually, I had no particular relationship with him. For one thing, I rarely saw him, and when I did, I don't remember that we spoke more than two words to each other."

McDougal continued. "You've had several other people . . . guests . . . staying in your apartment. Is that right?"

Adriano said, "Well, since I've lived there, only two people have ever lived with me. For a while, Charlie Lipton was my roommate, but he left some time ago and hasn't been around since. But my Father has visited me from Italy and has stayed with me on several occasions."

McDougal said, "Several others on your floor have said they saw and heard your father arguing violently with Mr. Flatt. Are you aware of that?"

"Yes, I am," said Adriano. "Flatt made it clear he hated Italians, and my dad took great exception to that. I believe the various loud exchanges they had were because of that."

McDougal asked, "How did the other guy who stayed with you get along with Flatt?"

"You mean Charlie Lipton? I did see them talking briefly once in awhile out in the hall in passing. They seemed to be perfectly pleasant with each other. Charlie was always easy to get along with."

"Mr. Cinella, can you think of any reason why anyone would want to kill Elmer Flatt?"

"No, I can't, really. He was known as a disagreeable person, but I don't believe that would be a reason to kill him."

Soon, Adriano was dismissed and Mario was brought in. McDougal sat down in front of Mario and said with a smile, "May I call you Mario? My old man's name was Mario. I love the name Mario. Mario McDougal! What a name for an Irishman, eh?

"It certainly is. Yes, please call me Mario."

"Mario, tell me," began McDougal, "Do you consider yourself a man with a quick temper? You know, are you easily offended?"

"Well, I have always been excitable, if that's what you mean. After all, I'm an Italiano!"

"Ah! Touche, my friend! Did Elmer Flatt ever get you excited?"

"Constantly! He called me a Dago and a Wapp every time he saw me and insulted me every way he could."

McDougal leaned in close to Mario and said, "Mario, did you ever get angry enough where you wanted to kill someone? Now think about it. Tell me the truth."

"I might have felt that way sometime in my life," said Mario. "But I never would have actually done it."

"Have you ever actually threatened to kill someone, Mario?"

"Oh, I might have. But I never meant it."

"Okay, Mario," said McDougal, standing up. "I'm not going to keep you here any longer. I think I've'gotten what I was looking for from you. But I want you to stay at your son's apartment. You are not to leave town or go out without letting someone know where you are while this investigation is going on."

"Am I a suspect?" asked Mario.

"Mario, everyone is a suspect at this point," came the answer.

Next into the interrogation room was ushered Mildred Flatt, accompanied by a female officer.

"Mrs. Flatt, please come in," said McDougal as he held a chair for her. "I'm very sorry that it is necessary for us to ask you to come in at a time like this. But we are determined to find your husband's murderer."

Mildred Flatt, a short woman of considerable girth, fell heavily into a chair. Looking directly at McDougal, she said, "Can I light up? I need a cigarette."

"I'm sorry Mrs. Flatt, there is no smoking in this building. You'll have to wait until we're through," said McDougal.

Mildred Flatt sighed disgustedly and said, "What do you want to know?"

"Mrs. Flatt, were you aware as to whether or not your husband had any enemies?"

"Christ!," she said, "he didn't have nobody but enemies!"

"How was your marriage, Mrs. Flatt? I mean was there any discord in your marriage?"

"Well, we tolerated each other until this year when he took up with that Watson woman down the hall. And he didn't give a damn who knew about it, neither."

"Did you have arguments about it? Did you confront him about it?"

"Sure I did," said Mildred. "A hell of a lot of good that did! He spit in my face a few times and told me I could get out or stay. He didn't give a damn. I would have left him, but I haven't got any place to go, and I don't have any money."

McDougal asked, "Mrs. Flatt, did your husband have any life insurance?"

"Oh yeah! He's got over fifty thousand dollars worth of life insurance. We had a terrible fight the day before he was killed and threatened to cancel all his life insurance so when he died I wouldn't have any money to live on."

"How did that make you feel?"

"I felt like killing him!"

"Did you?" asked McDougal.

"No. Hey, I hope you don't think I killed him. I'm not going to prison for something I didn't do."

"I have just a couple more questions, Mrs. Flatt," said McDougal. "Did your husband have any business dealings with outsiders?"

"Oh, I never knew nothing about that. He rarely ever left the apartment, except when he was down at that Watson woman's place. Sometimes a man would come to the door, and he would go out in the hall and talk to him so I couldn't hear him."

"Was he friendly at all with anyone who lived here on this floor?"

"Well, I would say he was always friendly with young Adriano across the hall and that Charlie somebody who use to live there with him. In fact, Elmer even had that Charlie person in for a beer one afternoon when I was down at the grocery store. Yeah, he was okay with Adriano and his friend."

After Mildred Flatt left, Detective Sergeant McDougal went out to talk with the desk sergeant. He said, "Sergeant, please see that search warrants are secured so that we can get in to search all of the tenants' apartments for any evidence. Also, when Forensics is done trying to match the fingerprints of all these people I've interviewed, I'd like to have them matched to all of the prints we took at the murder scene. And I want a report by tomorrow morning. And one other thing, I want a complete financial statement on Flatt from his bank."

Detective Sergeant McDougal spent the next several days going over the evidence he had collected in his interviews, his apartment searches, and from several other inquiries he had made.

After staying up most of the night pondering the evidence, McDougal went into the station the next morning and ordered that all the witnesses be called together in the detectives' conference room that afternoon. He wanted to see Dick and Cheryl Watson, Harry and Marge Anderson, Mario and Adriano Cinella, and Mildred Flatt.

McDougal went in to see the Chief of the Detective Division and, announced, "Chief, I know who the murderer is in the Elmer Flatt case!"

"Who was it?" demanded the Chief.

McDougal laughed and said, "I've got all the suspects gathering in the detectives' conference room this afternoon. And that's when I'll reveal who did it."

The Chief said, "Aw, come on McDougal! Why the high drama? All you have to do is have the guy picked up and put in the slammer where he can await arraignment."

"You mean he or 'SHE.' Almost half the suspects are female," said McDougal.

"Am I invited to your little show, McDougal?" said the Chief.

"Of course, Chief. They're all being brought in at 2:00 this afternoon."

Detective Sergeant McDougal walked outside and sat on a bench in the small park that surrounded the front entrance of the police station. Staring across the sidewalk at the bronze statue of Justice holding her scales, he leaned back, lit a cigarette, and smiled.
 

To be continued...

 

Posted: 09/26/08