Heartbeat City

The Hudson River, frozen at Peekskill, NY.

I never anticipated enjoying living with another person and engaging in activities together, such as cooking and having dinner without a novel in my face. However, I have discovered a whole new side of myself that I did not know existed.

I told my friend Rosa at Latin Deli about the situation and was not surprised to find out that she knew the individual in this small town. The name we call each other is silly boy but I didn't tell her that because she wouldn't understand it. Instead, I begged her not to mention it to him or to anyone not even Danny, her husband. This person is in the closet and has a girlfriend who would murder me if she knew I existed. She cautioned me not to sleep with him, but when she looked into my eyes, I couldn't lie. Right then she realized her advice was futile because it had already happened more than once in every room and corner. Everywhere except the ceiling, the refrigerator and the stove. Not yet, she said, which made us both laugh wildly.

She then advised me not to fall in love. I replied that I couldn't, that I wouldn't, as I am not in love with him because I am in love with someone else...

Moreover, I reminded her that he is heterosexual, which is perfectly fine with me. That I could not less about his orientation similar, I supposed to Precious May, in my fictional world, who desires to be with Ahab Erikson and others, man or woman, without care...

(Heartbeat City)

The noise electric
Never stops
And all you need
Is what you got
And there's a place
For everyone
Under Heartbeat City's
Golden sun
​--THE CARS

INSPECTOR SAMUEL KRUSE

"We have an understanding," Ahab replied, sitting on the sofa close to the bar. "Now fix me a drink," he continued, putting both the blade and gun aside. "Scotch on the rocks."

Zeno got his pants on, grabbed a glass, added ice, and poured Ahab's Scotch, wondering what was taking Travis so long. No, he was not expecting Travis to help him out of this with Abel's lookalike brother. However, he could use his support, he thought, stirring the drink. Then, upon noticing the stirrer in his hand, he had an idea. He knew it was not much, but the stirrer was all he had in that moment. He formulated a plan to catch Ahab off guard by distracting Ahab with conversation and, in a moment of surprise, use the stirrer to jab at Ahab's hand to disarm him. It was a risky move, but it was the only chance Zeno saw to regain control of the situation without escalating the violence. Placing the stirrer in his pocket, he approached Ahab who took a deep breath, leaned forward, and directed the switchblade towards his lower torso. Zeno swallowed and stated, "I had no intention of causing any harm."

Ahab gestured to the stirrer in his pocket. "Give me that."

Zeno handed it over to him without a fight.

Ahab accepted the drink Zeno had prepared for him and smiled. "Please, have a seat," he said.

Zeno sat beside him gingerly.

"Don't fret,” Ahab said sipping his drink. “I'll be gone by the time your boyfriend gets here. Just do as I say, keep calm and I won’t cut your balls off. I swear on my father’s grave…”

Zeno's was torn between an overwhelming fear of Ahab's threats and his own flickering courage desperately trying to surface. He felt the weight of his own inadequacy, yet the thought of succumbing to Ahab's control fueled a simmering defiance within him. It was a battle between his instinct to survive and the urge to fight back, even if it meant losing his testicles. "I’ll feel better if you put your weapons away…" he said.

"Not visible, right?"

"Yes."

"When something is not visible, it is easy to forget about it, right?"

"That's true."

“Do you swear?”

“I swear on my grandmother’s grave.”

“Why not?" Ahab replied, hiding his weapons in his coat. As he relaxed and sipped his drink, he glanced at a copy of the Final Edition of the Examiner on the coffee table. It featured an article with Terry Bono's picture and the headline, ‘Third Body in Several Months Identified in Same Tenderloin Alley.'

Zeno noticed the newspaper in Ahab's hand. He read the headline in the upper right corner and asked, "What is it?"


Ahab shook his head silently while at the same time Precious May lit another cigarette during her interrogation by Inspector Kruse and Lieutenant Harris in her apartment near United Nations Plaza at the foot of Leavenworth Street. Even though she was quite comfortable around men, police investigation was a different story. She suspected they knew she was not being completely honest. As much as she wanted to leave or throw them out, she knew that she could not. The only thing she could do was stay and face whatever came her way. She took a deep breath and waited for their next move.

"What was the exact time you and Mr. Bono shared cocktails?" Inspector Kruse asked.

"Around 9 p.m.," Precious said. "I wasn't expecting him that evening."

"He showed up unannounced then?"

"Yes, he just came by out of the blue."

"Except, you said that he owed you money," Kruse continued, glancing at Lt. Harris and then at his own notes before continuing, "Was returning a loan you told him to keep and pay back later."

"Yes."

"What made you do that?"

"Considering it was nearly Christmas; I figured he would still need it."

"So, what was the amount of money he owed you?" Lt. Harris asked, closely watching her.

Precious shifted nervously in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. She hesitated for a moment before answering, a faint tremor in her voice betraying her unease. "It was just a couple hundred dollars," she finally replied, avoiding eye contact.

Lt. Harris raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of Precious's claim. Her evasive demeanor and reluctance to make eye contact only fueled his suspicions. He exchanged a quick glance with Inspector Kruse, silently communicating his doubts about the veracity of her story since there was far more money and drugs they found on Terry’s body.

"Did he often borrow that amount of money from you each time?" Kruse asked.

As she cleared her throat, Precious replied, "Yes, he was always running short. From what I know, he only received one check per month for his disability."

Inspector Kruse noticed Precious's diamond ankle bracelet and deduced she was a high-class hooker. "Was he meeting anyone after leaving your apartment?"

"No one that I am aware of," Precious stated, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air while using her free hand to toss back her hair.

"And you were more than mere acquaintances?"

"Are you hinting at my escort service?"

“Why yes.”

"Our relationship never included such perks, Inspector. Terry couldn't afford them, and my business doesn't offer discounts."
​
The Lieutenant shifted on his feet in response to Precious May's gaze fixed on his inexpensive shoes, then glanced at Inspector Kruse before giving Precious May, who remained calm and composed, a thorough examination. Her eyes finally embraced them without a hint of hesitation, and her voice carried a steady, unapologetic tone. Despite their questions, she appeared unfazed and asserted that she had nothing to hide.

Kruse spoke, his voice stern. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.

Precious May took a deep breath and said, "We were just friends, nothing more."
​
The silence that followed was heavy, almost tangible, as if the air itself held its breath. Precious could feel the weight of their gazes, searching for cracks in her composure. The tension in the room was palpable, each second stretching longer than the last. She no longer heard the clock echoing like her own heartbeat. She wanted this interrogation to end sooner and not later. She had to stay strong. She had to keep it together. She would not give them what they wanted.

"Why did you think it necessary to hide your friendship?" Kruse asked, his tone probing but not unkind. He hoped to catch a glimpse of hesitation or uncertainty in her eyes, anything that might hint at a deeper truth.

Precious replied, "I'm not hiding anything. Terry was here, but I don't know how he died."

"That night, you didn't leave your apartment?"

"I stayed at home. I went to bed soon after Terry left."

“In other words, you stayed at home alone without anyone to give you an alibi?" asked Lt. Harris.

"A girl needs a break every now and then,” Precious said.

"Well, there was no reason for you to kill him over two hundred dollars, over something you're not telling us?"

Precious answered, "I didn’t kill Terry Bono, Lieutenant Harris.".

"You know he valued you as more than just a friend," Kruse told Precious, handing her a business card.

A red heart had been drawn around Precious' name on the card she had given Terry.

"We found your card on him; it seems you meant a lot to him."

"Where?"

"In his wallet. Your fingerprints were on the card and all over him in that alley," Lt. Harris said.

"I never touched him."

"Fingerprints don't lie," said Inspector Kruse. "You're in our database, Ms. May."

"I was young and inexperienced then," Precious May said, standing. She glanced out the window at the lit-up United Nations Plaza and the night fountain. "Inspector, am I being arrested on the suspicion of murder?"

"Ms. May, you're not under arrest," Inspector Kruse said.

“I'm not?" Precious asked, turning around.

Lt. Harris silently considered, "Not yet," and clenched his hand into a fist.  He wanted so much to be forthright with Precious May and yet knew he had to maintain professionalism. He understood the importance of keeping his thoughts to himself and upholding the investigation's integrity. Despite his instincts, he knew that working alongside strict Inspector Samuel Kruse required discretion and restraint. Thus, he kept quiet.

"Is it possible to explain the ketamine theft you committed at Davis Medical Center to supply Mr. Bono?" Inspector Kruse asked, catching Precious completely off guard. The ketamine theft was a critical piece of the puzzle, as it linked Precious to an underground network involved in distributing the drug illegally. Kruse believed that she had gone as far as placing ketamine on Terry’s body and sought to understand her reasons for doing so.

Precious' eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape. She felt trapped like a cornered mouse. When the silence grew unbearable, she finally muttered, "I want a lawyer." 

United Nations Plaza Fountain, San Francisco.