Read Online P'town Murders: A Bradford Fairfax Murder Mystery by Jeffrey Round - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jeffrey Round
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said with a smile. "I've had my heart broken by better men than him."
After that, the handsome barkeep found one excuse after another to avoid talking. Brad could see he was getting nowhere, so he downed his drink and left.
9
Brad stopped in at the police station. Tom Nava sat with his feet up on the desk, eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. He was dressed like a motorcycle cop, the kind some men fantasized would stop them for speeding out on some deserted road and teach them a lesson they'd never forget. And never want to.
Nava stirred and turned his head at Brad's entrance.
"Good afternoon, Officer Nava," Brad said, watching himself approach in the cop's lenses.
Nava nodded. "Mr. Fairfax. To what do 1 owe the pleasure?"
Brad smiled. Take it slow, he reminded himself. Cops are always looking out for what you don't tell them.
"I haven't been able to sleep after what happened the other night. I'm curious to hear who the boy was or if you've learned anything about him. I thought it might give me some peace of mind."
The cop lifted his feet from the desk and stood with the sleekness of a cat. His chest strained the fabric of his uniform. His shoulders were massive, the waistline narrow, like an oversized Tom of Finland doll. A holster strapped to his belt displayed the handle of a hefty gun. The man was dressed to kill in more ways than one.
"There's not much to tell," Nava said. "Boy's name was James Shephard. He'd been in town all summer doing odd jobs. Bit of a wanderer, from what I gather. We tracked down some people who knew him from another city."
Brad shook his head. "A real shame, a young kid like that."
Nava grunted. "It happens. People think it's just water, but the ocean isn't the same as a swimming pool. The tide can play tricks with you. It's hard to know what he was doing out there on the dunes at night. Just a guess, but I'd say he was cruising. We found his clothes about a half mile up the beach."
"You think he was looking for sex?"
Nava looked him over before answering. "That would be my guess. Lotta moral degenerates around this town," he said.
"Why 'degenerates'?"
The cop snorted. "It's one thing to be gay; it's another to fuck' anywhere at random."
"The dunes after dark is hardly random," Brad said with a shrug. "But I guess you'd need to understand the mind of a gay man."
"I am a gay man," Nava said.
Whoa! thought Brad. "Then you should understand the urge to explore the sexual side of things."
Nava removed his sunglasses and Brad caught his powerful eyes in the light for the first time.
"I may be gay," Nava replied, "but I'm not a moral degenerate."
So you've got a narrow personality range and a penchant for being a power broker, Bradford thought. Big deal! Being unimaginative doesn't make you morally superior.
"I guess you don't need to live your life in full color, like some men," Brad said.
The cop stared at him for a moment and then laughed. "Do I look beige?" he asked, and suddenly Brad had to laugh as well.
Brad could see Nava wasn't the type to avoid a fight, but he was probably smart enough to avoid starting one. He could imagine him as a boy trying to make it in white America, full of resentment and envy. As an outcast, you sometimes tried harder than others did. Brad could relate. As a ward of the state, his own life had been shattered into a thousand pieces. Whatever he'd had as a child of a single parent had been lost completely when his father died. Ever since then his journey had been to find those pieces and put himself together again.
Where others in his situation might just let everything go, thinking it hopeless, Brad persevered. Meanwhile, the courts quibbled over the contents of his father's will, stealing the greater part of it. When Brad turned eighteen they awarded him the crumbs, like a discharged prisoner being handed his belongings in a bag at the end of his sentence. He knew he didn't have a lifetime of funds, and decided to make do with
After that, the handsome barkeep found one excuse after another to avoid talking. Brad could see he was getting nowhere, so he downed his drink and left.
9
Brad stopped in at the police station. Tom Nava sat with his feet up on the desk, eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. He was dressed like a motorcycle cop, the kind some men fantasized would stop them for speeding out on some deserted road and teach them a lesson they'd never forget. And never want to.
Nava stirred and turned his head at Brad's entrance.
"Good afternoon, Officer Nava," Brad said, watching himself approach in the cop's lenses.
Nava nodded. "Mr. Fairfax. To what do 1 owe the pleasure?"
Brad smiled. Take it slow, he reminded himself. Cops are always looking out for what you don't tell them.
"I haven't been able to sleep after what happened the other night. I'm curious to hear who the boy was or if you've learned anything about him. I thought it might give me some peace of mind."
The cop lifted his feet from the desk and stood with the sleekness of a cat. His chest strained the fabric of his uniform. His shoulders were massive, the waistline narrow, like an oversized Tom of Finland doll. A holster strapped to his belt displayed the handle of a hefty gun. The man was dressed to kill in more ways than one.
"There's not much to tell," Nava said. "Boy's name was James Shephard. He'd been in town all summer doing odd jobs. Bit of a wanderer, from what I gather. We tracked down some people who knew him from another city."
Brad shook his head. "A real shame, a young kid like that."
Nava grunted. "It happens. People think it's just water, but the ocean isn't the same as a swimming pool. The tide can play tricks with you. It's hard to know what he was doing out there on the dunes at night. Just a guess, but I'd say he was cruising. We found his clothes about a half mile up the beach."
"You think he was looking for sex?"
Nava looked him over before answering. "That would be my guess. Lotta moral degenerates around this town," he said.
"Why 'degenerates'?"
The cop snorted. "It's one thing to be gay; it's another to fuck' anywhere at random."
"The dunes after dark is hardly random," Brad said with a shrug. "But I guess you'd need to understand the mind of a gay man."
"I am a gay man," Nava said.
Whoa! thought Brad. "Then you should understand the urge to explore the sexual side of things."
Nava removed his sunglasses and Brad caught his powerful eyes in the light for the first time.
"I may be gay," Nava replied, "but I'm not a moral degenerate."
So you've got a narrow personality range and a penchant for being a power broker, Bradford thought. Big deal! Being unimaginative doesn't make you morally superior.
"I guess you don't need to live your life in full color, like some men," Brad said.
The cop stared at him for a moment and then laughed. "Do I look beige?" he asked, and suddenly Brad had to laugh as well.
Brad could see Nava wasn't the type to avoid a fight, but he was probably smart enough to avoid starting one. He could imagine him as a boy trying to make it in white America, full of resentment and envy. As an outcast, you sometimes tried harder than others did. Brad could relate. As a ward of the state, his own life had been shattered into a thousand pieces. Whatever he'd had as a child of a single parent had been lost completely when his father died. Ever since then his journey had been to find those pieces and put himself together again.
Where others in his situation might just let everything go, thinking it hopeless, Brad persevered. Meanwhile, the courts quibbled over the contents of his father's will, stealing the greater part of it. When Brad turned eighteen they awarded him the crumbs, like a discharged prisoner being handed his belongings in a bag at the end of his sentence. He knew he didn't have a lifetime of funds, and decided to make do with
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