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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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KENNY - 7. Chapter 7

The Investigation team was frustrated and stymied. All pertinent statements had been received, then perused and then double-checked, but nothing significant had been found. No lies detected; no new evidence and no new leads. All the college clergy had demonstrated a healthy (or unhealthy) respect for Bro. Michael; he, not Bro. Dominic, was the dominant force at the college. The forensic report simply confirmed the cause of death and didn’t establish any new clues. No foreign DNA was found on or around the corpse of Bro. Simon. They were staring at a dead end.

In a fit of frustration, Fitzpatrick hurled the forensic report against the wall. Gloria flinched as the document sailed over her head on its journey of frustration.

‘Shit, fuck, damn! I know we’re missing something. This is all too tidy; too clean. From my past experience perps always make an error; a small error, something usually insignificant. Believe me Gloria, there is no such thing as a perfect crime; any thoughts?’

‘No, not really. But Bro. Peter intrigues me; when I interviewed him he was extremely uncomfortable, scared even. My cop’s intuition was that he’s withholding something; something he wanted to tell but was afraid. I’d like to interview him again, if you agree.’

‘Yeah . . . go for it. We have to start back at square one anyway and go over all we’ve got. Sometimes it works; sometimes not, but we have to try. I’m gonna send the forensic report back and ask them to start afresh. I think I’ll light a candle in the chapel to see if the Catholic God can give us a heads up!’

‘Shit (laughing) Tom, you’re really getting desperate!’

♂♂

‘(Unsteady voice) Forgive me father for I have sinned. My last confession was two weeks ago.’

Fa. James was roused from his drowsy state when he heard the shaky voice of the penitent. It had been a boring afternoon session; in fact only one other had graced the confessional all afternoon. He was about to ask the conventional question when the repentant continued,

‘Father I’m scared, very scared. I’m scared for my very life and most importantly, for my immortal soul. I’ve done some awfully wicked things father and I think I’m about to be exposed. I’m frightened . . . !’

‘Please (interrupting); please confess your sins then we can have a talk. If you make a full and complete confession, you’ll be free of mortal sin; but you must confess everything. Understand?’

‘Yes father I do. I . . . I’m . . . a teacher at a local Marist Brothers college and for some time I’ve been havi . . . Ummm . . . paying for sex with local aboriginal boys. I can’t help myself father (stifled sob). . . I’ve tried, but my lust always wins out; I have a terrible need for sexual relief. Usually (choke) . . . I commit the sin of self-abuse to satisfy my cravings; then soon after, I feel the overwhelming need for male company. By male company I mean abbo boys. I don’t do any harm and I know the kids parents are in need of the money I give the boys.’

Fa. James stayed silent whilst the penitent steeled himself to continue; then,

‘I know who killed Bro. Simon and I’m scared I’m going to be next. Also, (stifled sob) I have information on a ring of pedophiles who operate here in town and within the whole country. Some very important . . .’

‘Are you (Fa James interrupted) telling me that influential people here in town are not only involved but coordinating these disgraceful activities?’

‘Yes, yes I am! That’s why my life is forfeit. I feel it’s only a matter of time before the fate that befell Bro. Simon is also visited on me. I really need help father; can you help me?’

‘All I can do is make an Act of Contrition with you, but for your penance you must . . . and I repeat must, go to the police and ask for protection. I will only give you absolution on the understanding that you’ll give yourself up and tell the police everything you know. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes . . . yes father, and thank you; I know you’re right. I’ll tell the police everything.’

‘Good; now repeat after me . . . ‘Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all of my sins because . . .

♂♂

Leaving the confessional Fa. James encountered Fa. O’Brien who was looking puzzled.

‘I believe that was Bro Peter from the Marist College who you just heard in confession. I hope it wasn’t anything too serious; he’s my bridge partner, and a bloody good one at that.’

‘You know him?’

‘Well yes; I’ve known Peter for some time. Is something wrong?’

‘Oh (sounding upset) shit! Yes, there is something wrong; very wrong. Come, I’ll make you a cup of tea. Stuff the sanctity of confession; it wasn’t designed for the mess I’m in. And I’m sorry for the crude language Peter, but I’ve really had a gutful!’

They adjourned to the kitchen and while James was making tea he told Fa. O’Brien the full story.

There followed silence. Fa. James stood by the sink holding a steaming cup of tea, whilst Fa. O’Brien (shaking his head sadly) slowly stirred his teacup.

‘James, this must go no further; we’ve . . . I’ve already sullied the sanctity of the confessional. I guess I rationalized that because we were dealing with a confessed killer. This is different; the only crime committed was having sex with under aged boys. I don’t think . . .’

‘No, (speaking harshly) Peter that’s not true! We’re consciously withholding evidence from the authorities. Didn’t our Lord say ‘Give unto Caesar the things that are Caesars’ and give to our father the things that belong to him’; I may not be doctrinally correct, but the intent is clear (Fa.O'brien went to interrupt) . . . no, please Peter let me finish. You also have to consider your own situation. As Bro Peter is an acquaintance of yours, you could be charged with withholding evidence to protect him. You’re in a tight spot, Peter.’

With a sigh Fa.O'brien acknowledged,

‘Ok, Ok, you’re absolutely right; bugger what a mess. I’m finding it hard to believe that Bro Peter is a homosexual. He’s never given any indication to me or, for that matter, anyone else; what a mess. Well hotshot, what do you propose?’

‘Well, I did give him absolution on the premise that he’d go straight to the police and confess his involvement. I’m going to wait to see if he does what he promised; I’ll give him forty-eight hours. If we’ve heard nothing, I’ll go straight to the man and give him a choice; either he goes to the police or I will.’

Peter O’Brien sat slumped back in his chair and seemed entirely deflated.

‘You know James, sometimes I find the strictures of our faith too demanding. I mean what would be wrong if Bro Peter were to have a partner . . . a male partner if he so desires. What harm would it do? And the same applies to heterosexual clergy; why can’t we indulge our sexuality with a partner?’

‘Peter, you astound me . . . you really do. It’s my generation of clerics who are agitating for reform – not yours. Do I detect a story behind your statement?’

‘Ah yes, (looking and sounding wistful) there was a lass once who I really had a yen for; I was only twenty-two at the time. But I experienced real passion; the sight of her . . . her name was Helen . . . the sight of her would drive me into tender, loving carnal, caring, lustful (Fa. James at this point was laughing at the prospect) and scandalous fantasies. (A pause as he remembered tender memories) I determined to marry Helen but unfortunately her father . . . and in fact her whole family . . . were Baptists; Baptists who hated the Roman Catholic Church and therefore me. Of course my own church would not have let me marry her unless she became a Catholic and brought up our kids as Catholics. As the saying goes ‘we were up shit creek without a paddle.’

‘Peter (intrigued) why haven’t you said anything about this before. It’s proud you should be to have real human feelings. And I’m thinking that you were a bit stodgy.’

‘Well, (laughing) I don’t like to dig up the past; sometimes the memories are a bit raw. What about yourself . . .’

‘No (also laughing) you don’t get out of it that easily; what happened to . . . Helen? Did she marry a boring old Baptist?’

‘Yes, (sighing) yes she did. And she had three fine kids . . . and an unhappy marriage. He turned out to be someone who definitely did not practice what they preached. He played around; used prostitutes and contacted venereal disease. The marriage was dissolved after fifteen years; eventually I think he went insane. But what was really distressing, the family blamed Helen for not seeing to her wifely duties which made . . . what was his name? Ummm . . . yes . . . Bill; made Bill look for sex elseware. People never cease to astound me.’

‘Arrrrh, isn’t that the truth; did (sounding embarrassed) . . . did you get to ‘know’ her in the biblical sense?’

‘C’mon James, (laughing at him) there’s no need to be coy; you’re asking if we screwed, and yes we did . . . it was wonderful. I can still remember the experience.’

‘So then (curious) why did you become a priest? What appealed to you about the priesthood?’

‘I suppose in a way I was a coward. After having my feelings damaged by Helen, I just vowed never to repeat the same circumstances. Taking a vow of celibacy appealed to me; and at the same time I was a strict catholic so it all fell into place. It seems so puerile now. I’ve often asked myself what would I prefer most, to be a priest or to be a family man. Never came up with a good answer.’

‘Well, funnily enough, I was about to ask that very same question. So you don’t know what you’d prefer?’

‘Well, the grand thing about being a priest is that you don’t expose yourself emotionally, not to personal emotions anyway. Just from the confessional I hear terrible stories of married life; infidelity, physical abuse, financial woes and substance abuse. How some marriages survive in this age is a wonder. Now (enquiring) young man . . . now that I’ve exposed myself to your forensic emotional dissection, how about you. How came you to the priesthood?’

‘Arrrrh, there’ll be a grand tale for you. My family were poor farmers in Co.Wexford. Our family was big; four brothers and three girls. I was never interested in girls as such, and I vowed not to take the same path as me Dar; I saw too much suffering. Oh Peter, the way my folks had to struggle just to feed, clothe and educate us, still brings tears t’ me eyes. Then (sounding sad) me Mar died, and it became too much for m’ Dar. He really tried to look after all of us but it was too much, so I went into the seminary.’

‘Sooo . . . what brought you here to this fair town? We’re a long way from Co.Wexford.’

‘I heard there was a shortage of priests in country areas, so I left Ireland and settled here; and before you ask do I miss the family, yes . . . yes I do. I write to me Dar often and on special occasions; Christmas, Birthdays and so, I’ll call them up. I try and send money regularly because I know how difficult it is with a large family. Sometimes I get cranky with our faith when we urge couples to have large families but don’t do anything to ease the financial burden.’

‘So what do you value most in being a priest?’

‘I guess being more of a social worker than a mender of souls. I love people, especially kids; at times they can be pure delight. They are so innocent and trusting; that’s why I abhor people who abuse kids physically and sexually. Of all crimes the abuse of children ranks just below murder in revulsion; and when the perpetrators are the kids own parents well . . . well, it’s disgusting.’

‘Yes (sighing) yes I agree. But we can’t blame modern living for these detesting excesses; child abuse has been around for a long, long time. What about the use of child labor during the industrial revolution in England in the eighteenth century.’

‘Please (laughing) don’t get me to talk about the excesses of Mother England; I might break into some rather poignant IRA songs. But we’ve got sidetracked; what are we gonna do about Bro Peter?’

(Sighing) I don’t know James, I really don’t know; for the time being I s’pose just wait and see what happens.’

Wonder what he meant by never being interested in girls? James doesn’t appear to be gay. When the time comes I’ll broach the subject with him.

♂♂

Kenny had resumed coaching Billy at footy; despite of all the troubles at the college and with Jeff, it seemed like a sensible thing to do. He was sure that Billy was still affected by his talk with Jeff, because at school he was acting distracted and often surly. As the practice session ended they were walking towards the showers when Kenny confronted Billy,

‘Hey man, you haven’t been your old sunny self of late; I miss your beautiful smiles. Mind if we have a talk?’

‘Nah . . .’spect it’s about Mr. Jeff hey? I’se all mixed up Mr. Kenny . . . all mixed up. Don’t know if you’se can help me.’

They had reached the shower block, so Kenny said,

‘Hey, let’s sit here and yarn b’fore we shower.’

Kenny led Billy to a bench and patted the space beside him and when Billy sat, he half turned towards the boy

‘Billy, (here Kenny looked directly at Billy who then cast his eyes downward) I’m really thrilled the way you’ve improved at training; you must be feeling more confident now than when we first started. But footy training involves both physical and mental conditioning. When you go out to play a big match, you have to clear your mind of all negative thoughts so you can concentrate on the game ahead; and I don’t mean the whole match, I mean quarter by quarter.’

‘Yeah, (looking at Kenny directly) I knows that Mr. Kenny . . . I knows that; I guess Mr. Jeff told you about our last meet, right? (Kenny nodded yes). Well, what you do when you’se really likes someone and they’se doesn’t like you back?’

Kenny paused; a bloody good question!

‘This point is Billy that Jeff does like you; I know he does. But he can’t get into any relationship until he resolves his own problems; his marriage for one. Look, I don’t want to get involved in your emotional life, but I think you’ve got to look elseware for someone to identify with; someone your own age.’

‘Don’t (raising his voice), don’t bullshit me Mr. Ken; don’t bullshit me. I’se expected more from you. What you’se saying is me find another blackfella eh! Well, there ain’t any other gay blackfellas that’s I knows about. We’se banned from blackfella tribes; don’t know any others same as me. So what I gotta do, eh?’

‘But that’s (talking earnestly) where your wrong. I know of one blackfella who plays for Essendon whose gay; and there’s probably a lot more. Just bide your time until your eighteen then you can go where you want. Trust me Billy, I’ll look after you.’

‘Bide’s me time (angrily); bide me time! So what do I do when the urge comes a calling; just beat off by meself. Seems I’m randy all the time; can’t get enough. Don’t want to have no sex like dem hippos; sex is good, I likes it! So why should I not do it when I wants it. Shit Mr. Ken I’m real randy now; can’t help meself. Can I suck you off, please Mr. Ken, please!

‘Geez Billy, no. . . .’

‘Look (Billy undid his shorts and flashed a very hard brown penis at Kenny), look Mr. Ken . . . he’s beautiful isn’t he?’

Billy, (his voice becoming hoarse) Stop it; I’m your teacher . . .’

‘Bugger that boss, I think you’se randy as me; no harm is there? Please let me touch you boss; Billy’s good (he let his hand fall on Kenny’s cock which was now straining against his footy shorts)’

‘(Gasp) Billy. . . Billy (hoarse), oh that feels good. But please stop . . . we shouldn’t . . .’

‘No can do Boss; sorry no can do. Just lie back and let Billy do what’s best for you; I knows what you want. I’ll just take your footy shorts off and, wow . . . Mr. Kenny, that’s some spear you’se, got; an look he’s all wet. I’m gonna lick it all up. Can I do that boss? Can I do that?’

‘Oh god . . . stop, please stop . . . this is wrong . . . wrong! Oh . . . shit!’

Every human being has a resistance threshold, and Kenny had reached his. The euphoric feel of Billy’s mouth around his penis had shredded any morsel of self-control; his need for sex simply overrode any restraint he had, and he gave himself up to the boy’s insistent demands.

‘Ok, now take Billy’s spear and suckle it. (Kenny dropped to his knees and virtually gobbled Billy’s erectness) Oh man . . . dat good . . . please, don’t stop. . . Oh, you’se good Mr. Ken . . . the best . . . can’t hold back any longer . . . I’se’ (loud ecstatic moan followed by shuddering) and Billy released.

After his shuddering subsided the boy immediately took Ken’s painfully hard penis in his mouth. Using only his tongue and lips he performed oral masturbation until Kenny cried out with ecstasy, and flooded into Billy’s waiting lips.

They sat back side by side against the wall, footy shorts down around their ankles, both satiated and drained. There was a silence until Billy turned towards Kenny and kissed him on the cheek.

‘I’se been wanting to do dat from the first time I saw you’se. Makes me feel real good Mr. Ken, real good; fact is I could do it again now, if you wants me to. I can also lick yer bum special like; can I?

‘Billy . . . please; just wait a moment please until I come back to earth. (A moment’s silence) I shouldn’t have done that with you Billy . . . it’s all wrong; I’m your teacher and could get into a lot of trouble if someone found out that I had sex with you . . . real trouble. I’m supposed to protect you from predators, and now I find that I’m a predator. Shit! Shit! Shit!’

‘(Angrily) what the fuck are you talking ‘bout? It pisses me off t’hear you calls yerself ‘predator. I knows the difference ‘tween someone forcing themselves on an udder who don’t want to sex and two fellas who want to do it. Bullshit Mr. Ken, bullshit; dat Jesus fella’s got ya balls all twisted and bitter ‘bout sex. If’n one person becomes a victim den dat’s wrong; If’n both fellas have a good time den dat’s great! Ok?’

Kenny studied Billy and could see he was genuine . . . and absolutely right.

Sure it’s a thin line but he’s right; as long as an older man doesn’t force himself on a younger man and the younger man consents then no real harm has happened. Bullshit! I’m rationalizing.

‘Billy, (softly) I hear what you’re saying but our laws are quite explicit. I shouldn’t and can’t have sex with you; full stop, end of story. Hey, (standing up and moving towards the shower) we’d better shower now.’

‘Well, (standing up and following Kenny) you say you’se can’t have sex wid me; but ya didn’t say dat I’se can’t have sex wid you. . . (Laughing) Hey?’

♂♂

Kenny was in turmoil; filled with remorse and self-recrimination. After Billy left, in what could only be described as a jubilant and happy mood, Kenny sat outside the shower block on one of the spectator seats. Even showering was an ordeal; Billy’s cock just refused to obey any attempt to deflate and Kenny had to close his eyes and turn away. As the boy said . . . he was ready to go again!

What a hypocrite I am; chastising Jeff for having sex with the boy and then I go and do the same. But Billy is so insistent and his sexual needs are more than most young kids’ possess. Oh shit! . . . Young kids, Geeze I said it myself; I’ve had sex with an underage boy. Shit! Shit! Fuck! Well, Kenneth my boy, it’s not about what’s happened but what’s gonna happen now. If it gets out, I’m finished as a teacher; and perhaps jailed for having sex with a minor. Fuck! I guess the real question is what’s Billy gonna do? Will he demand more; will he blackmail me . . . and Jeff. Yeah, Jeff’s vulnerable too; but maybe not as much as me.

And Billy is at a tender and difficult emotional age; an age when emotional adversity can be traumatic. Particularly rejection; they can’t handle rejection at all. (Sigh) But the bottom line is that Billy has power over both Jeff and I, and the only question is how will he use that power? Fuck! Shit! I should’ve been stronger and resisted . . . hey don’t go there. It’s happened and like any crisis it has to be managed.

Should I tell Jeff? Should I admit to being weak and giving into a young abbo boy (sigh) well, if I tell Jeff at least it levels the playing field. Yes, I must . . . no, no, and NO! Not just yet! I’ll just wait to see what happens’

‘Well, (sneering) if it isn’t our great footy star sitting all alone and pondering . . . what? (Laughing) How to fondle little boys in the shower?’

Everybody also has a threshold of tolerance to insults and Kenny had reached his. He stood up, took three steps towards Bro. Michael, and slammed his fist into his sneering face. The force sent the Brother onto his back howling with pain from a broken nose and cut lips.

Nursing his bloody face, Bro. Michael managed,

‘You bastard . . . I’ll get you for this!’

‘You are a bloody disgrace to your vocation; a bloody disgrace to this school; and a bloody disgrace as a human being. If you want to report me . . . go ahead; believe me it’ll be worth it!

But the fight with Bro. Mike had steeled Kenny’s resolve. He reached into his gym bag and pulled out his mobile.

♂♂

It was an unlikely scenario for two close friends; one rigid with anger, whilst the other was slumped and defensive. Even in the warm atmosphere of the Shearers Arms, there was a zone of glacial silence in the booth occupied by the two men.

‘You (accusing and hostile) had sex with Billy Yorta? You’re telling me that you had sex with the boy? Please tell me I didn’t hear you right!’

‘Ummm (sounding guilty) . . . yes; yes I did. It . . . it just happened; it just happened.’

‘Oh (parroting and sneering) . . . It just happened did it; just like that (a snap of fingers). There was, of course, nothing you could do about it; no wait there, I suppose you could’ve said No! I mean you’re not only his teacher but he is under age . . . isn’t he?’

‘Jesus Jeff! (Harsh); don’t be so bloody pedantic. You sound like a girl having histrionics. I didn’t set out to have sex with him . . . it just happened!’

‘It just happened! (Mimicking) It just happened; I’m (raising his voice) sick and tired of hearing you say that . . . It just happened. I know it just happened because you told me . . . it just happened. Fuck you Ken!’

‘And (raising his voice) fuck you too! I mean you’re no angel are you? Who are you to sledge me when the same thing happened to you? You’re a fucking hypocrite!’

‘Ummm . . . excuse me girls, but I don’t want any rowdiness or swearing in my bar. If you girls want to fight . . . take it outside, please!’

So involved with the intensity of their quarrel, neither one had noticed Ivan the barman approach. Nor did they realize other patrons were looking at them.

‘Ok Geeze, sorry Ivan, we apologize (Jeff nodded); we’ll be quiet. Sorry!’

‘Ok; what’s with you two? You’re usually pretty laid back; you’ve never had an argument before that I know of!’

‘Yeah’, said Kenny. ‘We’re just sorting each other out over a minor matter. I’ll come and get a refill if that’s Ok with you?’

‘Sure, I’ll get you two of the same?’

By the time Kenny returned with their refills, a breathing space had been established and both had calmed down.

‘I don’t know why I feel hurt and wounded Ken; after all it’s really none of my business. I’m sorry if I sledged you. I guess I’m pretty fragile these days. Nothing in my life is going well; but that’s no reason to dump on you. I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah, I must admit that I felt a little miffed when you told me about Billy and you. For a sixteen-year-old kid he can be very persistent. I guess I was feeling very randy . . . that’s the only sex I’ve had with a partner since I broke up with Rickie. Well . . .’

‘I know (Jeff interjected) . . . it just happened.’ Both men laughed.

What I wanted to talk to you about (giving Jeff’s wrist a squeeze) is how exposed we both are if Billy feels betrayed. We both are guilty of having sex with an underage kid; but in my situation, I’d lose my job and be probably jailed.’

‘Yeah well, It’s the same for me . . . I’d probably be facing jail time and Cynthia would divorce me in a blink; not that that’s a problem, but she’d get her hands on the only assets I have . . .(sigh)what little I have. What should we do Ken?’

‘Not sure. It’d help if we know what Billy is thinking; it depends on how he views his future relationship with either of us. He told you he loved you didn’t he? (Jeff nodded) But is that his true feeling? After all he’s just going through puberty which means he’s very fragile and unpredictable.’

Kenny paused as each man considered the situation they were in.

‘You know Ken (jokingly) it would help if we could find someone else to satisfy his urges. I’m . . .’

‘Hold on . . . that just might be it. (Jeff looked curiously at Kenny) What you said, that might be a way out.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘If I could take Billy over to Melbourne and introduce him to the gay scene and particularly the indigenous gay scene, he may find someone to satisfy his cravings and forget about you and me. What think you?’

‘Would that be possible?’

‘Very! (Excited) There are many young black gays in Melbourne; they tend to congregate in a bar called ‘Alfies’. I could introduce him around; be his mentor, so to speak. If he’s as randy as we’ve both experienced he will jump in without thinking.’

‘Geeze, (doubtful) I don’t know Ken; it seems like we’re taking advantage of a young black kid; it don’t feel right. No . . . even if it worked, I wouldn’t feel decent; Nah . . . there must be something else we can do.’

A pause; Kenny took a sip from his beer and looked respectfully at Jeff. Then he leant over squeezed Jeff’s shoulder.

‘You’re right, it wouldn’t work; just an idea. Let’s not go there . . . eh! But that still leaves the problem unsolved.’

‘That’s assuming we have a problem; maybe Billy will keep his mouth shut.’

‘Maybe, (taking a sip of beer) maybe he will. I don’t want to talk to him and elevate the issue in his mind. But one thing’s for sure; no more dalliances with him. If he comes on to me again I’m just gonna tell him that I’d be breaking the law to have sex with him; surely he wouldn’t want to have me arrested and banned from teaching. I think Jeff, you should do the same; I mean run the risk of being arrested.’

‘If he comes on to me, I will. In fact I’ll try and avoid him as much as possible; I guess that’s easier for me than for you.’

There was a pause as Jeff seemed to be considering something. Then,

‘I’m sorry for sounding like a little bitch . . .’ Just then Ken’s mobile rang and he interrupted Jeff to take the call.

‘Hey, this is Ken . . . who? . . . Hey Rickie! What’s’ up man? . . . Woo . . . woo . . . take it slowly; I can’t . . . (silence) . . . Jesus, shit; are you sure?’

Jeff watched Ken’s face going from curiosity into concern and then silence as he listened to what obviously was a disturbing phone call. He said nothing and took a swig of beer while he waited for Kenny to conclude.

‘Yeah . . . no I’m Ok; yeah had me tests done coupla weeks ago. . . . Don’t cry Rickie, don’t cry. Look I’ll slip down to Melbourne tomorrow and see you. Where are you staying? Ok; see you then. Bye!’

Ken rang off without a further word and answered Jeff’s unspoken question.

‘As you can guess, that was Rickie; he’s tested positive for HIV. (Silence) I’ll go to Melbourne tomorrow to see if I can prop him up; he’s not very strong. He’s a great guy and a good footballer but he doesn’t handle emotional issues well. (Long pause while Jeff waited for Kenny to continue).This’ll (musing) put an end to his footy career; probably change his whole life. Shit, what a bummer!’

‘But (getting panicky) it’s not your problem Ken; what’re you gonna do down there with him? Hasn’t he got other friends and family to console him; why you?’

Why is Jeffry getting so uptight? I mean it’s the least I can do to help someone I’ve been really close to deal with a big issue like AIDS? I guess Jeff doesn’t know Rickie like I do.

‘Well (speaking carefully), we were very close at one time and were lucky enough to emerge from our relationship as good friends. I don’t know whether you’ve had anything to do with AIDS Jeff, (he shook his head) but it’s an extremely cruel disease. Young men, in their prime, are reduced to pitiful shells and die a very painful death; I count myself very lucky. It really is a lottery.’

‘That’s what I love about you Kenny; you’re all too ready to help the other guy. I guess it’s a tick in the good guy column. But at some stage you’ve gotta start looking after yourself. If you go down there, promise me . . . promise me you won’t stay too long. You’ve got your future to think about now Ken, and your future’s here, not in Melbourne.’

‘Hey buddy, I can’t make promises without knowing how bad Rickie is. I mean, if it were you who needed my help how would you feel if I said ‘I know you’re sick but I can only stay for two days.’ What would you think? How would you react?’

‘Don’t know, so I can’t answer you. But your priority is like me, to be on top of any problems Billy may cause. (Shit, I hope I don’t sound selfish) Can I call you if I need to?’

‘Yeah, of course; anytime you want. Be glad to hear your voice. Now I’d better get home to get ready for tomorrow. I think I’ll get going about five a.m. so I’ll have a clear run. Coming?’

‘No . . . you go. I feel like a few more. Anyways, I don’t feel like going home to Lady Cynthia. See ya!’

When Kenny left, Jeff got a refill and settled down with his thoughts . . . and fears. He settled back into his chair and moodily dragged his beer glass around in circles.

I’m shit scared that Kenny may not come back. Why am I scared; because, I love him. When he said that Rickie was on the line, that big pang of jealousy almost shriveled my balls; I’m afraid of losing him. When he comes back I’m gonna tell him how I feel. Sure he's told me how special I am t but it's not enough for me . . . not nearly enough. I’m sick of masturbating with his image in me head. Now I want the real thing. God how I want him; I want to be so close I can smell his body odor; feel his breathing and hear his heartbeat. I’ve never felt this way before. Never! But, Oh shit; what if he doesn’t feel the same about me? I think I’d kill meself.

♂♂

It wasn’t the need for coffee that found Tom Fitzpatrick and Gloria in the coffee shop; more the need to get away from the depressing environment at the station. They had reached a dead end in the investigation . . . a complete brick wall. The interviews at the college had yielded only minor matters of interest, but no strong leads; nada – Nothing.

Fitzpatrick was slumped in his chair looking morosely at the menu and without any enthusiasm. Gloria was half turned in her seat peering out the front window as if waiting for inspiration.

‘I’ve (sigh) never had a case . . . (he was interrupted by Robyn Ballard to take their orders) . . . a case like this before. We’ve had two murders; one of which has been solved, but all leads to the other murder have come to a dead end. For Christ’s sake Gloria tell me something that I can pursue.’

‘Nah . . . I’m all out of inspiration. I did re-interview Brother Peter but nothing positive came out, except he seemed very uncomfortable during the going-over. . . I think he knew something but was too scared to tell me.’

'Yeah . . . sometimes it’s good to backtrack; it’s amazing the little things that tend to be overlooked in an initial interview. I have (he fell silent as Robyn Ballard delivered their coffees) I have every confidence in you Gloria; have you ever considered applying for detective?’

‘Ummm . . . no; never really thought about it. Do you think I’d make a good detective?’

‘Yeah, (stirring his steaming coffee) yeah, I do. You’ve got a very inquisitive and inquiring mind. Naturally you’d need to be trained but if you put in an application I’ll support you. No problem.’

‘Ummm, sorry for interrupting (Robyn Ballard had come back to their table) but is there any news about the murder of Brother Simon. I know you can’t say too much but people are getting scared thinking that there’s a vicious killer running loose in town.’

Before answering, Gloria introduced Tom Fitzpatrick to Robyn and explained who she was amongst the townspeople. Fitzpatrick responded,

‘Yeah . . . we can’t really say too much ‘cause it’s a matter of following every lead we get; that’s why it’s important for you townies to give us as much info as you can. I mean even the smallest item could become very meaningful to the investigation. I’d like you to tell people that we rely on them heavily when we’re trying to track down a culprit.’

‘Well thank you inspector, I’ll pass . . .’ Just then one of the younger cops came bursting into the shop, looking very agitated he said to Tom,

‘Boss, please call the forensic people as soon as possible; they say that some new and important evidence has emerged!’

Copyright @2014 graham sealby
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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