May in December (13 page)

“Any news, Mom?” Kerri asked.

This set Gail off into another wailing fit, which ended in a group hug with her daughter and her husband.

Jorry slid in next to Bruce, who was standing away from the other family members. “I hope they find the dogs soon. It’s supposed to drop off to twenty degrees below zero tonight.”

Bruce agreed. “With those little short legs, they can’t be too far away.”

“That’s if they left willingly on their own.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce spoke low. “You think they were dognapped?”

Jorry never had the chance to answer, as the door in the foyer opened and Kelley and Bill tromped in.

Gail practically threw herself at them. “Did you find my babies?”

Looks of dread flashed across Kelley and Bill’s faces. Bill removed from inside his coat one pink and one blue dog collar. There were frozen bloodstains on them. Gail screamed and buried her head deep in Warren’s chest.

“We found these by the Dumpsters at the resort,” Kelley explained to Bruce. “The dogs could still be alive, but without their collars on, the tracking devices are useless.”

“Poor creatures.” Bill placed his arm around Kerri. “I know the dogs never accepted me, but still, it makes me sad someone could actually hurt a hair on their bodies.”

Kerri stood on tiptoe and kissed his nose. “And that’s why I love you so much. You have such a sweet spirit. If you had your way, nobody or nothing would ever be hurt in this world.”

Bill reached in his breast pocket and pulled out his checkbook. “ A five thousand dollar reward to anyone who can tell us the whereabouts of these two precious dogs.” He threw the checkbook down on the kitchen table. “Ten thousand dollars if they are brought back to their rightful owner.”

Gail started crying once more, this time drawing Bill and Kelley into one of her hefty hugs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce saw Jorry blanch. When getting a cup of coffee, Bill brushed up against Jorry, and he jumped. Something passed between his lover and his soon-to-be son-in-law. Looking back and adding up a few things, Bruce was more than convinced Jorry had something against Bill, and he needed to trust someone enough to talk about it.

Within the hour, everyone but Bruce and Jorry left to go back to Gail’s house. Nobody had an appetite, and so the leftovers were neatly stashed in the refrigerator. Afterward, Bruce and Jorry packed a few more boxes in silence until Bruce could stand it no more. He swiped up Jorry’s hand and walked him to the bedroom. There, he turned on the bedside lamp and sat on the bed, encouraging Jorry to join him.

When Jorry was comfortable against the headboard, Bruce stared deep into his eyes. Tears threatened to flow, and Jorry went to turn his head, but Bruce placed a hand to his chin to prevent him from doing so.

“I was saving this for Christmas morning, but I think you need to hear it now.” Bruce grabbed Jorry’s hand and inhaled deeply. “I love you.”

Jorry picked at some microscopic lint on the blanket. “But you wouldn’t if you knew the truth.”

Bruce leaned back and crossed his arms at his chest. “Try me.”

Jorry broke down in Bruce’s arms and cried.

* * * *

Jorry sat in the middle of the bedroom, alone.

What had he done?

I knew I shouldn’t have told the truth. I knew as soon as I came clean with everything, Bruce would feel different. I knew…

Jorry glanced at the time. It was too late to leave for Tabitha’s for the night or to try to go to a homeless shelter. Maybe Bruce would let Jorry sleep in the living room, and he could leave before the light of day.

Picking up a packing box, Jorry blindly stumbled to the dresser, opened his two drawers, and withdrew some clothing. At least he had a few memories to remember Bruce by.

But what would he do? How would he survive? It wasn’t like he had a car or a job to help out. Would he go back to Pickworth and beg to be given work?
No!

He had made a resolution, one to better his life and to be free from restraints. If anything, he should be glad to be rid of the dark shadow that had followed him for a while. But at what cost? Bruce had encouraged him to talk, had said he loved him, but once Jorry spilled his soul, he was left alone sitting in the middle of the bed.

What was he going to do?

The bedroom door opened, and Bruce walked in. He had a lit cigarette dangling from his lips and carried an ashtray, a bottle of dark rum, and a shot glass. He sat a few of the items down, poured a shot, and handed it to Jorry.

“Here. You look like you could use this.”

Jorry was shocked. “Y-you came back?”

Bruce seemed confused. “Of course. I told you I was going to the kitchen for a moment and I’d be right back.”

Jorry felt the familiar burn in his stuffed-up nose, and tears started leaking from his swollen eyes. He drank the shot down in one gulp and slammed his body up against Bruce’s for a brutal bear hug. “You mean you’re not leaving me? You believe me? You forgive me?”

“I said I loved you. This also means I trust you and I believe in you.” Bruce hugged back tighter. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that. But I am glad you told me about Bill’s true nature. Not only can I protect you from him, I can keep Kerri from making the biggest mistake of her life.”

Jorry accepted another shot. “I should have told you sooner.”

“At least you were brave and trusted me enough to tell me the whole sordid tale.”

“And you don’t think less of me because of my involvement?”

Bruce squeezed Jorry again. “What part of ‘I love you’ don’t you understand?”

“I dunno. I’ve never been loved before. Well, not by anyone but my grandma.”

Peace reigned in the bedroom. Jorry never wanted to leave the security of Bruce’s arms, but Bruce pulled out of the embrace to put out his cigarette.

He then sat cross-legged on the bed and encouraged Jorry to join him. “I want us to go to the police.”

Jorry flitted around the room. “I don’t know.”

“My friend Lieutenant Milton, remember him? This is the information he’s after. He’d be able to nab Bill and his cronies, and put him away forever.”

“But what if he can’t?” Jorry helped himself to another shot of dark rum. “What if he doesn’t believe me? What if it gets me in trouble? After all, I was the one doing the drug deliveries and selling myself.”

“They cut deals all the time.” Bruce patted a spot on the mattress next to him. “You would be turning witness. I know you can do this. If you were brave enough to come clean with me, surely you’ll be able to with Milton. Think of all the good you’ll do. And I’ll be right by your side, supporting you all the way.”

* * * *

An hour later, during the graveyard shift, Bruce and Jorry met Lieutenant Milton at an all-night café. Over plates of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, Jorry retold his story, trying hard not to leave anything out.

Officer Milton listened attentively, adjusting his cell phone, which he was using as a voice recorder, every now and then. He allowed Jorry to exhaust himself from all the information before he started asking his own questions.

“Now let me get this straight. The Dawg Haus is a cover operation for drug, fighting, and prostitution rings?”

Jorry stared into the officer’s eyes, hoping he wasn’t being judged too harshly. “Yes.”

“Does the whole chain of stores operate similarly?”

“I don’t know about every single store, but I do know the stores in Detroit, Kalamazoo, and Grand Rapids are run like ours.”

“And you delivered drugs disguised as dog treats to the people you walked dogs for?”

“Yes, but not everyone,” Jorry corrected. “Some customers were legit. They had no idea what was going on.”

“And you accepted money from the drug deals, right?”

Jorry felt the encouraging squeeze of Bruce’s hand on his knee. “Yes.”

“And you hustled?”

Jorry twisted a napkin in his lap. “No. Pickworth would set up the appointments. I didn’t have to sell myself; he sold me as well as other employees against their will.”

“What about the fighting?”

“That’s something I didn’t get information on. I was never involved with that side of the business.”

“But it does exist?”

“Yes, I heard him and the store manager, Todd, talk about it all the time. Todd was in charge of the bookkeeping. He kept a ledger in a blank book that had dog pictures all over it. It was locked up in a secret vault, as the building used to be a bank back before the depression hit.”

Milton paused for a sip of tomato juice. “Do you know where the fighting took place?”

“They were floating games for a while, and then he started talking about something called the ‘Gas Pit.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

“It may.” Milton stopped the voice recorder and stuffed his cell phone back into his civilian jacket pocket. “If all this is true, and I’m not saying it ain’t, would you be willing to go in a sting operation so we can nail Pickworth Johnson?

Jorry glanced at Bruce for guidance and hesitated. “I don’t know. What would I have to do?”

“Talk to Pickworth. Get him to chat about things. Have the information you gave us come out of his mouth. You’ll be wearing a wire, and the team will be outside in a nondescript van recording.”

“Is it safe?” Bruce asked.

“I won’t kid you. Risk is involved. But we could nab this guy once and for all and be able to clean up the city.”

Jorry nibbled on his thumbnail. “What kind of risk?”

“Pickworth might catch on. Panic. Give you false information. It’s possible he would discover you have a wire and go ballistic. Whatever the scenario, there is a certain amount of danger. The good thing about it is, if we hear you are in trouble, we can interfere and get you out of there.”

Could Jorry do it? Stand up for what was right and put the creep behind bars? Did he believe in himself enough to try? He glanced at Bruce, who smiled and gave an encouraging nod. Bruce believed in Jorry, and that was good enough for him. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Are you for sure?” Bruce studied Jorry. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“I need to do this.” Jorry shrugged, feeling a bit self-conscious about his confession. “I made an early New Year’s resolution to rid my life of some things, and so far, I’m doing great. What better way than to put an end to this all.”

Bruce smiled. “You know, I made an early resolution as well. I guess great minds think alike.”

“What was your resolution?” asked Jorry.

“To change my life and start living again. Which I have. All because of you.”

Jorry leaned over and kissed Bruce’s cheek, and Bruce tousled Jorry’s hair.

The waitress came over and laid the bill on the table. Her eyes twinkled as she witnessed the affection between the two men. “Awww. How sweet you two are.” She walked away.

“Barf.” Milton stuck his finger down his throat. “You guys make me sick.”

Bruce laughed. “You, my friend, are jealous.”

Milton grabbed the bill and reached for his wallet. “Yeah, you got that right.”

“Your time will come. And he’ll hit you like a ton of bricks.”

“I have decided that I’ll always be the odd man out. And I’m okay with that.” Milton placed his empty plate to the side and sucked down a swig of coffee. “Before I leave, I have something I need to give to Jorry.” He reached down under the table and produced a small, fire-damaged safety deposit box. “We recovered this from the wreckage of your car. It was the only thing to survive.”

Jorry quickly grabbed the sooty box and held it tightly to his chest. He didn’t want to cry in public, but the tears were threatening.

Bruce nudged Jorry. “What is it?”

“I-it’s my grandma’s ashes. They were originally in a plastic bag inside a cardboard box, but I transferred them to this metal box for safer keeping.”

“I’m thrilled they made it through the fire.”

“You and me both. Now I can keep my promise and give Grandma a proper burial when I get some money saved up.”

Milton interrupted the tender moment. “Remember, we have to get you fitted with a wire and go over some stuff. Be at the station by noon.”

“Whoa, there.” Bruce voice was alarmed. “We’re doing it today?”

“Yes,” Milton said. “I don’t want Pickworth to be tipped off. We need to take care of this as soon as possible.”

“But tonight is my daughter’s rehearsal dinner.”

“Good. This will be the best time to do it. Pickworth will not be expecting anything to happen there.”

Chapter Thirteen

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and the wedding rehearsal played out with only a few kinks. Kelley cut continuous jokes, Bruce missed his cues, Gail was unusually subdued, Pickworth’s mother—Mrs. Johnson II—cackled her snarky comments about the decor and such, and Kerri had fits, as every bride did.

Otherwise, Jorry thought the rehearsal went well. The bridesmaids calmed the bride, the groom—the two-faced conniving bastard—was attentive to his fiancée and his surroundings, and the church was beautifully decked out, with the smell of honey candles burning. Evergreen boughs with silver bells decorated the pews, and poinsettias the altar.

Jorry even noted that near the choir benches Joseph, the Virgin Mary, an angel, shepherds, and three wise men were in attendance. Baby Jesus wouldn’t be due until Christmas Day. Laughing at his own joke, Jorry turned and saw Pickworth and his family scowling at his outburst.

That’s okay. In just a bit you will really have something to frown at.

Jorry was a bit surprised about how strangely calm he felt. To tell the truth, it came in waves. He would feel brave and strong one minute, and an hour later start to second-guess himself; then the whole process would cycle over.

He was fitted with a wire that surprised him. It was a pair of glasses. Earlier, when the police had tested the glasses on him, Jorry had thought it was weird since he didn’t wear glasses, that maybe questions would be brought up. Lieutenant Milton had said if anyone asked to just say they were vanity glasses.

The fashionable frames transmitted a picture, so the men in the van could see what he saw. The microphone was in the nosepiece, and the earpiece, a small speaker, allowed him to hear instructions from Lieutenant Milton.