The Training of Toby (Masters of the Mansion Book 2) (2 page)

Agent Turner

Agent Turner stood over the body of a young man who was nothing more than what he would consider to be a kid. As if reading his thoughts, his partner, Rene, spoke.

“His name is Allyn Seiler. This kid is only eighteen years old, way too young to die.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Agent Turner agreed.

They both looked up to see a vehicle driving down to where they stood at the end of the dead end street. The decals on the white van identified the occupant as the medical examiner and he was always a welcome sight. There were very few people who could see the final moments of a victim’s life and piece the clues together to make sense. Herb Foster was one of those few.

“Didn’t even attempt to hide his body,” Herb spoke as he made his way over to them. “So young,” were the first words that came out of his mouth. “Are you the officer who found him?” Herb addressed the only uniform there.

“Yeah, it was right out in the open, almost like they wanted him found. I just saw this kid last night.”

“Was he with anybody?” Agent Turner asked.

“Some kid named Toby who lives a couple blocks over. This kid hustles but the Toby kid… I don’t think so. I think they’re just friends.”

“So, this is Allyn here and he hustles, or hustled I guess I should say.” Even though he didn’t know the young man, Agent Turner couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness over the boy’s untimely death. He was just so damn young.

“Oh yeah, he’s a hustler alright or, at least, he used to be. Last I heard, he got himself a sugar daddy, moved in with him, and wasn’t in the game anymore. I just figured those two were hanging out talking last night or I would have issued a loitering citation. I try not to be too much of a hard ass out here or I can’t get any information when I need it. Y’all know how it is for a beat cop.”

“I’m going to need Toby’s last name,” Agent Turner answered, hearing, but not acknowledging, all the new information.

“I don’t know his last name but I’ll do some asking around and find out for you.” Rene made her way over to hand him a business card and he waved his hand at her as if pushing the card away. “Ah heck, Miss Rene, I’ve already got your number. I’ve had it forever, just hoping you would let me take you to dinner one evening.”

“She’s at work, Officer Rudolph!”

Officer Bruno Rudolph simply ignored Agent Turner the way he always did and continued talking to Rene. “I’ll call ya when I hear something, Miss Rene.”

It seemed the poor guy’s hillbilly accent came out even thicker when he was in Rene’s presence. He’s had a terrible crush on her since the first day he laid eyes on her and it completely blinded him from seeing the jealous rage it provoked in Agent Turner.

In Agent Turner’s eyes, the man’s massive 6’ stature of pure muscle was no threat to him when it came to his Mistress. Bruno Rudolph might be the cliché corn-fed, backwoods, country boy, but Agent Turner was more than able to defend himself and he was definitely willing and able to defend and protect the honor of the woman he loved. Logically, he had to admit, he knew Bruno would never do anything to threaten her honor, not with his staunch, country upbringing. With Bruno, it was always
yes ma’am
and the utmost respect and best manners when it came to those of the opposite sex. After all, he’d been raised right. Still, he didn’t like his interest in Rene. She was
his
Mistress and he was fiercely possessive.

The medical examiner’s voice cut through the ongoing conversations. “This kid wasn’t killed here. Do you see all this blood on his groin? He bled out somewhere else and was dumped here later. His clothing is soaked with blood but there’s nothing underneath him. That concrete is as clean as a whistle. I’m going to have to get him on my table before I can tell you anymore.”

Rene stood off to the side, talking with the officer and getting the address of the kid who had been with the victim the night before. Right now, it just looked like someone had picked up a hooker to kill. It wasn’t uncommon for killers to pick up prostitutes, male or female, when they were hungry for blood.

Agent Turner stood and eyed his partner. “Let’s go. If we want to catch the kid who was with him last night, now is the best time. Hopefully, we’ll get to him before he wakes up.” As far as he was concerned, it would serve a two-fold purpose: they could catch Toby off-guard and he could get Rene away from the beat cop.

He waited until they were in the car to vent. “What the fuck is it with that guy? He just doesn’t give up!”

“Why, if I didn’t know any better, David, I might think you were jealous.”

“It’s Agent Turner at work and another thing, it isn’t professional for him to be openly hitting on you in public.”

“Outbursts like this aren’t professional,
Agent Turner.
”

“Whatever, Rene. Whatever.”

“Your jealousy is going to alert people to the fact that we’re fucking, David.”

He didn’t answer. He just silently made a three point turn and started heading to Toby’s address. If he was the last person to see Allyn last night, then he was the one most likely to give them the answers they needed.

Two blocks of strained silence later, they pulled into the parking lot of a dilapidated downtown apartment building located at 2
nd
and Magnolia. Though the neighborhood was a mixture of refurbished historical houses and rundown apartments, the polar opposite population seemed to dwell together in a harmony redolent of ever changing neighborhoods. Neighborhoods here were like many big cities in that they changed from block to block.

“I can’t help it. That guy bugs me.” Agent Turner spoke in a meek tone, eyeing her through his long, dark lashes.

“Such a good boy,” she crooned, rubbing her hand over the top of his thigh.

They exited the car and made their way into the poorly lit hallway. Though the sun shined brightly outside, there was nothing sunny or inviting about the building they just entered. Whether it was the soiled light fixtures that hung on the graffiti riddled walls, the fact that there were no windows, or the low wattage bulbs placed sporadically throughout the building by a landlord who had quit caring about upkeep years ago, the lighting was dim at best.

Toby

The knock on the door pulled Toby from his fitful slumber. He had gone to sleep with one eye open, certain his attacker would return.

Fuck, what if it
was
that drunk from the night before beating on his door?

He cautiously tiptoed to the door and looked through the peephole. To his surprise, instead of the drunken asshole, he saw two cops, identifying themselves with their badges presented. He unlocked the door but left the chain attached, as if it would him offer some kind of protection if they weren’t who they said they were. He highly doubted that was the case though. Years of being on the streets had taught him how to spot law enforcement and these two were definitely just that… cops.

“What can I help you with?”

“We need to talk. A dead body was found this morning and you were the last person to be seen with him,” the tall man standing at his door informed him. Toby eyed the couple in the standard black suits with white shirts and instinctively knew that they were officers from a higher bracket than he was accustomed to seeing on the streets. Most of the undercover police in this neighborhood were either detectives or undercover drug agents. These two cops didn’t fit the bill for either of those positions.

“Allyn?” It was enough to make Toby open the door and allow them entrance into his small apartment. Now that he got a closer look at their badges, his suspicions were confirmed. These two were FBI and, fuck, now he was scared.

Toby moved the clothing, that had been washed, folded, and placed in a laundry basket from his last trip to the Laundromat, in an effort to offer a seat to the agents on his worn out couch.

“He’s dead? Allyn’s dead? What happened?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

Toby eyed the man talking to him and the serious expression on the guy’s face made him realize he could be in trouble, a lot of fucking trouble. As if on cue, he began filling the agent in on the night before.

“I’m getting kicked out of here in two days; I can’t pay my rent. Allyn was showing me the ropes on how to hustle. I went so far as to pick up a date and then I couldn’t go through with it. The last time I saw Allyn was after I got in the john’s car.”

“What kind of car?”

“A newer black Cadillac. Do you think he could have gone back and killed Allyn after I backed out on the date with him?”

Agent Turner continued asking questions, ignoring Toby’s query.

“Tell me what happened.”

“We pulled up in the parking lot and I told him I just couldn’t do it. He got really angry and grabbed my arm. I had to struggle to get out of the car and he followed me into the building. The guy was so drunk that I thought he was going to fall down the steps. I barely got into my apartment safely. I thought he might come back after me, but I never thought he would go after Allyn.”

Up until this point, the man had been doing all the talking and his partner was just walking around, taking in the sights of his small apartment. Toby looked up in embarrassment when he realized the female agent was looking at his pictures of bondage that were hanging on the wall. Mistresses, with male subs bowed at their feet, and men tied in various positions were the predominate theme. The familiar wave of shame, that he had come to know all too well, settled over him just like it did when he was
found out
.

He could feel his heart quicken and his cock jump as the woman’s green eyed stare cut through him like she could see all of his secrets.

“I need to know about these.” She pointed to the various pictures that he’d cut out of magazines or copied from the Internet and then pinned to the wall with tacks.

“Well, it’s what got me kicked out of my last foster family’s house. It’s what makes me think I’m crazy or fucked up in the head. It’s what plagues my thoughts and it’s what consumes my Internet time.” His tone was that of a young man exasperated with trying to figure out his sexuality. Even at his young age, Toby was worn out by the shame that came with trying to explain his desires to those who didn’t understand and judged him when they found out his bent towards kink. He had been labeled everything from sick to crazy.

Toby noted that the agent who had been talking to him was now looking back and forth between him and his partner like he had lost control of the line of questioning. This wasn’t how a police interrogation was supposed to go; even Toby knew that much. He watched as the female agent approached him from where she’d been studying his pictures. She looked at him with kind eyes and gently took his hand.

“Sweetheart, your life could be in danger and we aren’t dismissing anything at this early stage in the case. This could go far deeper than a disgruntled john. Excuse us one moment.” She hesitated another second, looking at him and holding his hand in a maternal manner. Her hand felt warm and her eyes held compassion. He felt like if he wasn’t careful, he would start to cry. It had been years since anyone had looked at him like this woman was—with compassion. Most of the time, people looked at him with contempt, like he was some loser or freak of nature.

Toby watched as the agents huddled in a secluded corner and spoke in hushed whispers. Though the questioning had veered off what he assumed was the normal path for a murder case, he was relieved they weren’t handcuffing him and hauling him downtown… yet.