Death on Duval Street (Chapter-10)

THE NIGHTCLUB WAS PACKED full of people dressed in all sorts of costumes and various stages of undress. Transvestites stood everywhere. Two young men sat very close to each other involved in serious kissing as several older couples who looked like tourists seemed a bit flustered by all that was going on.

One elderly couple in particular acted as if this was the kind of thing they’d been doing all their lives; yet, their eyes betrayed just how uncomfortable they were even though they tried their best to appear relaxed.

Perry, Theodore, and I entered following Ruthie who came out to the front herself to escort her friends to the central front row table. As we were seated, two performers in drag were just finishing their number as applause exploded all over the room.

As the performers left the stage, Perry leaned over to me and said, “These guys are really good.”

I countered, “Everyone who performs here is terrific. It’s been a long time since you last attended a show here. And I mean I can’t believe you don’t come more often to enjoy the exceptional entertainment.”

“I can’t remember the last time we were here, either” said Theo. “I’ve never seen those ladies before.”

Seeming to be the expert, I stated with a tone of authority, “The blonde’s name is Adrienne Herbert. He arrived here around the first of July. I think he’s from Virginia by way of Atlanta.”

Perry chimed in with, “He’s good. When is Brian doing his thing?”

“He’s the star of the show and will be the climax at the end of the ten-thirty show.”

“God, I’ve been out of circulation a long time. I didn’t know. I knew he had become quite popular, but the star?”

“Perry, you’ve had more important things to worry about rather than who’s performing at the Ta-Da club.”

“I know. But, I like to keep up with what’s going on. So when does that world famous band of Ruthie’s start playing again?”

“They’ll be playing the entire ten-thirty performance. Ruthie had them pre-record music for these warm up acts prior to the big show.”

Just then I noticed Ruthie walking up onto the stage. The audience noise quieted as she made her way to center stage. She approached a microphone that a stage hand had placed on the stage only moments before she arrived. She stood there for several moments that seemed like hours. I leaned over to Perry and whispered, “Something’s wrong. Ruthie never introduces the acts. She has a manager who does the introductions over the public address system.”

Ruthie took a deep breath and started to speak, but stopped, and turned away. Pausing to wipe her eyes with several tissues in her hand, she turned back to the microphone and spoke in a slow and distinct voice as the tears started to roll down her cheek.

Reading from a prepared statement, Ruth said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry to have to announce that due to circumstances beyond our control our headliner, Brian Silver, will not be performing as scheduled tonight.”

There was a great rumbling in the audience in reaction to the news. People expressed their extreme disappointment.

Ruth raised her hand and waited for the crowd to calm down. She continued, “There’s been a shooting near Sloppy Joes just down the street. The police have responded and are now investigating what happened. The chief just called me to report that the person shot has been identified as Brian Silver.”

We sat in stunned silence along with the rest of the people in the room. Several gasps could be heard as people got up and left. Performers stood just off to the side of the stage crying as Ruth walked over to console them.

Perry reached over and took Theo’s hand as tears rolled down both men’s cheeks.

I sat stunned only able to utter, “My God.”

Perry looked over at me, his face now turned hard as nails. His years of NYPD experience and training aided him as he began to formulate some thoughts about the future. He spoke in a solemn tone, “This is going to get nasty. Things are going to be tough for the next several days, maybe even months.”

I nodded in agreement as I said in a soft voice, “I hope to God you’re wrong, my friend. I hope you are wrong.”

We sat looking down at our drinks and the table. I had no words. So, I decided to do something. I stood. “I’m going down there and see what’s going on.”

“Wait,” Perry said, “You can’t be of any help. The police will have the whole area cordoned off.”

“I know. But, I can get some details from the investigators so I can report back to you about it.”

I walked out.

About six blocks away on Duval Street, the scene was chaotic. As I walked toward Greene Street, I noticed that Sloppy Joes Bar had all but emptied out as people tried to get a glimpse of the horrific scene just outside the famous landmark. As I turned onto Greene, I could see through the crowd where Brian’s body had been. A chalk outline on the sidewalk marked the spot.

The police tape and barriers held back the crowd. People stood nearby, shocked and dismayed at what had happened. Murders were rare in Key West. Not a single person of any note was ever murdered, especially someone as famous as Brian. I could hear People asking each other, “Who could do such a thing?” And others whispered, “Some people just hate fags.”

Only a few minutes passed when the crowd cleared the area. Celebrating had stopped and the streets appeared deserted long before midnight. One young man wearing only a pair of tight spandex briefs walked over to the scene, stopped at the police tape. He looked down at the pool of blood that seemed to have formed the shape of Brian’s body on the cement, the chalk marking still visible where the blood had not covered it. He looked down at his right hand which held a bouquet of wild flowers. He tossed the spray so that it landed next to the hallowed ground. With a tear-stained face, he said, “Good bye, Brian.”

I wandered around the area talking to people since the police were not saying anything at all. It seems that no one saw what happened. A moment or two later, I saw a new friend, our city’s police chief, Fatima Sax.

I think she never expected to be looking over a scene like this when she accepted this promotion. But, it did not take her long to understand the gravity of this situation, so she appointed her best detectives to investigate nothing else until this case was solved.

David Hernandez, Key West’s chief of detectives, headed up the task force that was made up of Key West Police detectives, special investigators from the Sheriff’s office, and a representative from the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. I was told that their job was to piece together just what happened on Greene Street that Halloween night.

“Chief,” I called out. She looked toward me and signaled for me to join her near the crime scene behind the yellow tape.

As I walked up, Detective Hernandez spoke. “What a waste,” He had accepted the position of chief of detective for the city almost a year to the day. He worked as a detective for the Monroe County Sheriff’s office for more than fifteen years, so he knew his stuff. Even though he was known as a man of few words, he brought a practical perspective to every investigation. Fatima told me several years later that she learned early to appreciate his skills and discretion.

She answered him. “I don’t know, Dave, perhaps this happened for a reason. Maybe our department needed to be forced into the twenty-first century with a case that would force us to upgrade our equipment and skills.”

Hernandez stood there making notes in the little black book he carried with him everywhere. Fatima looked over at him waiting for the response that often never came unless the answer was so important that he felt compelled to speak. People often referred to him as the “gentle giant” because of his impressive size of 260 pounds on a frame of 6’3" in height.

She hinted for a comment as she said, “Don’t you think so?”

“Probably,” Hernandez stated in an off-handed way.

“What do you think happened here?”

“Somebody shot him,” Dave quipped as he continuing to write in the notebook.

Fatima looked at him with a smile. Although she appreciated his frankness, she still attempted to engage him in conversation every chance she could; but every effort ended to no avail. Since they first met, she wondered just how he was able to stay married for so long with such minimal conversational skills. Then she met his wife at a department picnic. What rolled over and over in her mind after that encounter was, does this woman ever shut up?

Fatima let out a small chuckle evoking a response from Hernandez.

“What?”

Caught off guard, Sax said, “Sorry. I was just thinking about something else. Actually, I’m thinking that we may need a lot of help on this one.”

“Yep.”

“I’ll call the Sheriff first thing in the morning and get their detectives in here to help you out.”

“Okay.”

“And I think maybe we might need a bit of undercover help here as well. What do you think?”

“Whatever you think, Chief.”

“You finish up here, Dave. I need to take care of a little business near here. I’ll come back and get my car in about a half hour.”

“Okay,” he responded without looking up. He walked over to another detective and started to talk to him.

Fatima turned to me and said, “You might be interested in this. I’m headed over to talk to Perry. Want to join me?”

“Yes!” I answered with enthusiasm.

We walked past Sloppy Joes and crossed Duval Street, and walked to Charles and the alley leading to Perry’s house. We stopped at the wrought iron gate and pushed the button on the call box to the right of the gate. The little speaker sounded out.

“Who is it?”

“Fatima Sax. Oh, and Jay is with me.”

“Come on in,” was the reply as the buzzer sounded and the gate opened automatically. We entered into the courtyard and to the front door where Theo greeted us with a hug and tear-reddened eyes.

“He’s on the back patio. Oh, and he’s expecting you.”

Fatima shook her head with a smile and walked out onto the patio area where Perry was seated in his favorite spot under a huge banyan tree that gave tremendous shade from the daytime sun and some protection from the evening dew.

“Perry, how are you feeling?”

Perry shifted with a grimace and turned to see us walking toward him.

“I feel like crap, Fatima. How do you feel?”

“Emotionally? Probably the same, but fine physically.”

“And how are you, Jay?”

I nodded my courtesy and found a place to sit down.

“So, to what do I owe this honor?” Perry encouraged.

“I thought you would have already thought that question through and anticipated my arrival.”

“You don’t think it was a hate crime, do you?

“Honestly? I don’t know what to think about this one.”

Perry stared at her. “So, what is it that brought you to my place so late at night?”

Fatima let out a deep sigh and sat next to Perry.

“Here’s what we’ve been able to discover in just a few hours. He was shot up close. There was obvious stippling all around the wound and on his clothing. No one noticed anything unusual going on, so they don’t appear to have been arguing or shouting or anything like that. Brian must have known his attacker and felt no threat at all. Also, there have been no indications from our office, the sheriff’s office or even FDLE as to any threats by terrorists or anti-gay groups.”

“So you think this may be a simple case of passion or perhaps revenge?”

“I don’t know. You’re the man with all the experience with this type of crime. How about helping us out here?”

Perry looked into Fatima’s eyes. “You’re holding something back,” he said. “Something else has happened?”

“Before I had gotten my stuff together to go out to the scene, the switchboard got calls from ABC, NBC, and FOX who all wanted to know what was going on in Key West. Then I got a call from the Sheriff himself. He was upset. Videos and pictures of the crime scene were all over the internet and on the eleven o’clock news. People were calling for an investigation into what the media was calling a hate crime.”

“People are already saying it’s a hate crime?”

“Yes.”

“I’d be angry as hell if I were you,” Perry blurted out.

Fatima laughed. “Yea. I know. The real problem is that my hands are now tied. I’ll be under tremendous scrutiny during these next several weeks. I’ll be pressured into having my detectives investigate only the hate crime angle. I can’t even risk asking the sheriff and his detectives to investigate anything other than that. And FDLE? Well, I wish I didn’t have to get them involved at all, if it were my call. That might bring the governor down here.”

“Fatima,” Perry interrupted. “I’d be honored to snoop around behind the scenes and see what I can find out. I know you want to keep this thing local.”

“Thanks, Perry. You’re a dear. Oh, you might want this.”

She handed him one of Brian’s calling cards with something written on the back.

“He told me once that if anything happened to him, that I should call that person at that address in Miami. There’s no phone number and it appears she doesn’t have a cell phone in her name.”

“Who is this ‘Maria Hernandez’?

“I don’t know. See if you can find out.”

“Glad to do it.”

“Great. I think I’ll see if I can get a couple of hours of sleep before all hell breaks loose in the morning.”

“Hell?”

“I expect an invasion of television trucks and hordes of reporters coming in here by daylight.”

“Oh, there is one thing,” Perry said. “I’ll need to bring someone in to help me because of--.”

“Yeah, I know. Who were you thinking of?”

Perry looked at Fatima as his face lit up with a smile.