dontravis.com
blog post #490
Not a bad compliment. Thanks, AZ.
THE CUTIE-PIE MURDERS
He rose to give me a smile and
a hug after I plopped my attaché case on my desk. “Hungry?” he asked.
“In more ways than one.” My
first glimpse of him after a day’s absence always rocked me on my heels,
reminding me how fortunate I was to have such a handsome and hunky mate to share
my life. His lopsided grin went straight to my heart. His right eyebrow rose
slightly.
“We’ll take your appetites in
order.”
I showered
and changed to casual clothes while he finished an article on the Albuquerque
Isotopes baseball team. Paul was a freelance journalist, and his articles on
last year’s Voxlightner Scandal case had been well received, giving his career
a boost. Although I made no financial demands on him, he insisted on carrying
his share of the household expenses. What he couldn’t contribute in dollars, he
supplemented with sweat labor. The red-brick, cross-gabled house I’d inherited
from my folks at 5229 Post Oak Drive in northwest Albuquerque hadn’t looked so
spiffy—inside and out—since my mom took care of the interior and my dad
puttered around the outside.
I emerged from the bedroom as
Paul hit a key and gave a satisfied “Done.” I took that to mean he’d emailed
his article to the target magazine.
We ate at the kitchenette
table where, as usual, Paul’s tasty, piquant stew slaked one craving while his
bronzed arms and admirable pecs excited another.
He brought me back to the
moment by asking about the Zapata murder.
“The case has a name now. Matt
was the third young man killed and discarded naked in some public place. The
police are calling them the cutie-pie murders.”
“Cutie-pie? Who came up with such
a lame name? Nobody’s used ‘cutie-pie’ in ages.”
I went for my attaché case and
brought back three photographs.
“Wow!” he said after looking
at them. “They are hotties. Cutie-pie fits, I guess. Any leads to who killed
them?”
“Someone who’s not afraid to
leave clues. All three of the victims were covered in semen. Their own and
someone else’s. And the someone else doesn’t happen to have sperm in his semen.”
“So no DNA, huh? But if the
vic’s own cum was on him, he must have been a willing partner.”
“Not a valid assumption,” I
said. “Sexual excitement can be stimulated even when you don’t particularly
want to participate. But at this point, there’s no reason to assume the three
victims didn’t voluntarily participate.”
“Any connection between the
three dead guys?”
“Matt and Hubbard were both
students at UNM.”
“Hubbard?”
“The black youngster. But they
were in different disciplines, so there’s no apparent connection. I suspect the
fact they were both students is coincidental since Greene, the other one, was a
street kid.”
“Were they call boys like we believe
Matt was?”
I shook my head. “As I say, Dustin
Greene lived on the streets—literally. Last known address was a downtown alley.
It wouldn’t surprise me if he occasionally covered his meals offering himself
to some guy. I’m willing to bet Hubbard wasn’t.”
“Do you think Hubbard was gay?”
“No indication of it.”
“So Matt was the only gay guy
in the bunch.”
“And I think he was more of a
bi. Or maybe a pansexual.”
“Since they had cum on them,
it probably wasn’t robbery,” Paul said.
“Given the semen and the fact
they were found naked, this was likely purely sexual. But I think it’s a
psychological thing.” I described the circumstances surrounding all three
deaths.
“Some looney doesn’t like
pretty boys,” Paul suggested.
“Then why become sexually
active with them?”
He shrugged. “Maybe he wants
it, but when he gets it, he’s disgusted by what he’s done. We’ve both known
guys like that.”
“True. But they’re usually disgusted with themselves.”
Paul wagged his head from side to side. “For the most part. But sometimes they take it out on their partners.”
****
I
suspect Paul’s last suggestion rings true for many of us. Let me know what you
think of the scene.
Now my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say… so say it!
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