The Witness Wore a Puppy Tail, chapter 5 (Patreon)

Ken was leaning against his sedan when the two Millan men walked out the front of the building. The Chicago sky was gray and the sun hidden behind one of the huge thunderclouds that threatened rain. The weather matched the expression on the men coming toward the street.  The older Millan, Sebastian, looked like a traditional lawyer in a dark gray power suit and striped tie. He was far fairer than his son and taller, but he had the same piercing eyes. 

Robert was practically bouncing as he followed his father. A night in a holding cell hadn’t dimmed any of his enthusiasm. 

Ken pushed away from his car and started walking toward them. He was the only cop on the sidewalk, which was rare enough that Ken figured the other officers were intentionally avoiding the Millans.  Sebastian Millan’s tongue lashing of the commissioner downtown had sent the gossip mill into a near meltdown. Ken hadn’t yet heard what happened when Mr. Millan collected Robert. When Robert spotted Ken, he smiled, but that was a little like watching a dog wag his tail—it might mean he was about to greet Ken or eviscerate him.

Robert put a hand on his father’s arm. “Dad, this is Detective Ken… something.”

“Hoffman,” Ken said dryly. He had no doubt that Millan had already known that, but he did seem to enjoy playing verbal games.

When Sebastian narrowed his eyes, he looked even more like Robert. “You’re the one who arrested my son.” There was a cold danger in his voice, but before Ken could respond, Robert jumped in.

“Under duress, so don’t get all lawyery with him.” Robert backhanded his father’s arm before he grinned at Ken. “So, how pissed is your captain?”

“Pretty damn pissed,” Ken admitted. “Personally my agenda is the same. I need to talk to those witnesses.”

Sebastian pushed his son aside and stepped right to the edge of Ken’s personal space. No doubt he often used his height to intimidate people, but Ken wasn’t rattled that easily. He gazed back impassively, even when Sabastian said in a low voice, “I just had a very pointed conversation with the commissioner about the protection of confidential sources. If you want a detailed explanation of Branzburg versus Hayes, I will be happy to provide you with that education, and I will sent the commissioner a detailed bill with a suggestion that he train his detectives better. So don’t try to bully me.”

That was ironic because Ken wasn’t the one using bully tactics. “That’s not my intent. I only care about stopping three violence criminals.”

Robert moved to his father’s side. “Tone it down, Dad. He’s the only one who actually cares about the people who are getting hurt.”

Ken noticed a couple of officers standing at the doors. A number of others had now appeared in the wide windows that covered the entire front of the building. These were good men and women, and they didn’t deserve the disgust Robert was showing. “That’s not true. Every cop here cares about catching these guys. I’m not going to pretend that all of them care about the victims as much as they should, but most of them do,” he said firmly. “Don’t disrespect the people who work here.”

“Work like arresting my son.” Sebastian had the same dogged bad attitude as his son.

Ken crossed his arms. “I’m not going to comment on my superior officer’s decisions. However, I do sympathize with his frustration. We all know these three are going to end up killing someone, so everyone’s emotions are running high.”

“I’m not giving you the names,” Robert said.

Maybe Ken should have waited to talk to Robert at his house because having this conversation on the street was awkward. Unfortunately, Ken didn’t have a wealth of patience, and he’d feared that Robert would disappear behind the doormen in his father’s high rise apartment and Ken wouldn’t have any access to the man. “Yesterday, you were willing to introduce me around the community. Are you still willing to do that?”

“I thought you couldn’t do that? In fact, when I made that offer, you brought me down here and arrested me.” 

“Jenkins filed the arrest paperwork. I just walked you down to booking.” Ken didn’t mention that he had broken protocol by not cuffing Robert and by giving him time in the back stairwell to make multiple calls. He had rarely given any suspect in custody that much leeway.

Sebastian jumped into the conversation again. “Detective, if you are trying to—”

“My captain asked me to follow you,” Ken said, interrupting Sebastian before he could go off on another tirade about the police treating his son poorly. 

“He… Oh man. No way. No fucking way.” Robert sputtered in his fury, and this time the father put his hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Robbie,” he said with a touch of warning in his voice. Ken took a small step back because he didn’t want Robert taking a swing if he went into a blind rage.

Robert threw his hands up in the air and turned toward his father. “He’s trying an end run around my first amendment rights.”

“Rob.” Sebastian’s voice was sharper now.

“You heard him.” Robert pointed a finger at Ken. Had Ken not stepped back, he definitely would have gotten hit.

“Actually, you aren’t listening to me,” Ken said, catching Robert’s finger in his hand. Robert jerked it free, but at least he looked at Ken. “If we go to these clubs together, then I can argue I’m following you, just in the same car. So is your offer to introduce me around still on the table?”

Robert narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“If you’re pissed about the arrest, I respect that, but you and I both know you’re going to carry more guilt than you should if the next victim dies.”

Sabastian drew himself up. “You’re crossing a line, detective.”

“No, I’m not. Your son risked a lot to come forward when he saw Miss Comfrey attacked, so we both know that if we don’t catch this killer, he’s going to wonder if he could have made a difference by giving us those names.”

If looks killed, Sebastian’s glare would have splattered Ken’s guts down Addison Street. “You manipulative son of a bitch.”

“Yep, but I’m not wrong,” Ken said with confidence. Robert came off like some anti-social kid out to break rules for the sake of breaking rules. He thrived on drama, but Ken could also see an ethical core drove him in many ways. And Ken understood what it meant to be an ethical person in the middle of an utter shit storm of death. It would destroy Robert.  “And I’m going to right there in the steaming pile of guilt, wondering what I could have said to you to inspire you to work with us.”

Sebastian’s face had gone red with anger. “I’m going to—”

Robert cut him off. “Dad.”

When Sabastian turned to face his son, his face twisted with frustration. “Robert.”

Robert ignored his father and turned to Ken. “We take my car.”

Ken shook his head. “No offense, but I ran your name. I’ve seen the car you have registered to you name, and I’m not riding in that car.”

“Excuse me?” Robert demanded. In the background, his father was near spluttering with rage, but Robert ignored him, so Ken did as well.

“We’re looking for a pack—one that has made a hobby out of attacking people,” Ken said, pointing out the obvious. “If we run into some danger, I don’t want to be in a car that might break down at any moment. We can take my car.”

“Are you assuming my car is a piece of shit?”

“It’s fourteen years old. If a suspect shoots at us, will it handle a hard acceleration?” Ken asked. While Sabastian Millan might have money, the background check Ken had done suggested Robert didn’t. He worked two different student jobs at Loyola, lived in a tiny studio, and drove an old car. It didn’t exactly scream money. “Will your car break down if we go over a curb trying to chase a suspect on foot?”

“I offered to show you around the community, not play Dukes of Hazzard through downtown Chicago,” Robert said.

“And sometimes things happen.”

“Right. And this has nothing to do with you having control issues and wanting to drive?” Robert used sarcasm like a weapon.

“No.” Ken bit down on all the shitty things he wanted to say about Robert clearly liking it when other men took control because the man’s father was standing two feet away. From the way Robert glared at him, the other man could hear exactly what Ken wasn’t saying.

Sabastian cleared his throat.  “In that case, I would be happy to trade cars with my son. I can promise you that my Mercedes can handle acceleration and keep up with any suspect.”

The surprise offer left Ken doing a double take because his ears and his brain couldn’t decipher the words right away. That was the last thing Ken had expected from the elder Millan. “Sir, I don’t want to damage a $50,000 car going over a curb.:

“I spent considerably more than that on my car,” Sebastian said dryly, “but I have insurance. And if you’re concerned about Robert’s safety, I would prefer you to take it. Go get the car, Robert.”

Before Ken could respond, Robert play punched Ken and announced, “Give it up. He doesn’t listen once he’s made up his mind.” Then he was running down the sidewalk toward visitor parking before Ken could say a word.

“Stubborn runs in the family,” Ken said softly. Every time he had a nice clear plan in his head, Robert blew it up. In the service, guys used to live by the old adage that no plan survives contact with the enemy. Ken was editing that to no play survived contact with Robert.

After a second, Sebastian asked, “Are you putting Robert in danger?” He sounded calm, but he kept twitching his fingers like he wanted to find the danger and beat it or sue it into submission.

“The short answer?” Ken turned to Sebastian. “No.”

“How about the complete answer?”

Ken thought about that. It was more complex and that complexity had less to do with his investigation than the sort of man Robert was. Robert matched the victimology, and he insisted on shoving his way into the investigation. It wasn’t some place that Ken would want a loved one going, and Sebastian deserved some honesty. “We don’t know who is attacking people, but your son is part of their target population. I don’t know what you know about his personal life…” Ken had no idea how to finish that statement.

“Yes, I am aware that my son is unconventional in his tastes and not nearly as discreet as I would prefer. He sometimes shares more than I would like.” Sebastian sighed. “His mother died when he was very young, and I was too much his friend and not enough his father. But don’t make any mistake. I am as protective as any father, so if you get him hurt by involving him in this investigation, I will ruin you.” He said the words as calmly as another man might comment on the weather, and Ken had the feeling that the wrath of Sebastian Millan would be as unavoidable as a summer thunderstorm if Robert were injured.

“I would never put any civilian in danger. Any threat he’s facing is because he already inserted himself into this case. He went and interviewed people about attacks. He’s already gotten descriptions of the suspects. If anything, he’s closer to them than the police, which put him at risk,” Ken warned. “If he hadn’t already done that, I would move heaven and earth to keep him away from this.”

Sebastian gave an inelegant snort. “Good luck with that, detective. Heaven and earth are far more easily moved than my son.” He took his phone out, turned his back and started down the street. Ken had assumed he would ask for a ride somewhere, but clearly he preferred to find his own way home or to go claim Robert’s car at the university or to wherever he was going. He might be a lawyer, but watching him walk away, Ken sympathized with him. The man could bail Robert out of jail and verbally assault people who attacked his son, but in this case, he clearly understood that the power to protect his son was out of reach.

A few minutes later, Robert pulled up in a dark blue S-class Mercedes-Benz. Shit. The damn car cost more than Ken made in a year. Ken wondered if it was too late to tell Robert they could take his old car. That one might die in the middle of a chase, but at least it wouldn’t requiring mortgaging the police station if it got totaled.

Robert rolled the passenger side window down. “Come on,” he called. 

Maybe Ken could talk him into taking the department sedan later, but he knew when he faced a losing battle. So he got in. The steering wheel and console had so many buttons that Ken wasn’t sure he could drive the damn car, but Robert looked comfortable as he pulled out into traffic. Robert might live like a poor student now, but he knew his way around luxury. 

“So, did my dad threaten you?” Robert asked.

“Excuse me?”

“He is congenitally incapable of staying out of my business,” Robert said, disgust coloring his voice. “I have people offer me serious money for daddy kink, but  there is no fucking way I can go there. I can’t afford to have my father-issues multiply. He’s so overprotective.”

“If that were the case, he would lock you in your room until you agreed to stop hiring yourself out.”

“You are obsessed with my job.” Robert made a quick lane change and then accelerated to get out of the path of the truck behind him.  From the way he glanced over, Ken suspected that he wanted to see if he was making Ken uncomfortable, but for all his fast lane changes, Robert wasn’t coming close to any of the other cars. If anything, he was driving better than most Chicago drivers.

“I’m a cop. Technically, I’m supposed to arrest you for your job.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t have sex for money? I let people tie me up for money, but that is not the same as sex, not even in your tiny little provincial brain.” Robert held up a finger and thumb to show the size of Ken’s tiny, tiny brain.

“You’re a real charmer, aren’t you?”

“I actually can be. I just don’t feel like putting in the effort with you. You get to see me in all my glorious annoyingness.”

Ken rolled his eyes. “I feel special.”

“You should.”

Since Ken had no idea how to take that, he changed the subject. “We need to talk about you letting me take lead. I know this probably feels safe to you. After all, you’ve been to these clubs and talked to these people before. But you don’t know who might be watching—who might point you out to one of the suspects.”

“No way,” Robert blurted. “There is no way that someone from the LGBTIQ community is doing this.”

“You’re too bright to make an assumption like that. People who are one hundred percent heterosexual don’t feel threatened by gay men or transsexual women. Who feels most threatened and tends to strike out the most?”

“Yeah, yeah. Closeted deviants. I get it,” Robert said, but he rushed to add, “But there’s no way these three could be part of the community. Not only do they have their self-hate turned on way too high, but none of the witnesses recognized them.”

“Deviant?” Ken hated that people assumed that he would look down at gay men. Worse, he felt like he couldn’t defend himself without outing himself. If Robert poked around, he would find that Ken didn’t have a wife or even a girlfriend. He didn’t flirt. The few dates he had ended in awkward silences, and Ken knew that was his fault because he didn’t trust people. Robert might not care about what people said about him and his sexuality, but Ken didn’t need that grief. He didn’t need people making shitty comments about his personal life. 

“Isn’t that how you see us?” Robert said.

“No.” Ken snapped. “And just because these assholes hate themselves on Friday doesn’t mean they can’t put on a wig and join in on Monday. Don’t play naïve, and don’t assume we’re safe. You need to hang back and let me clear an area before you push in.” His own frustration made his words come out harsher than he intended.

“Clear an area? This is Chicago, not Afghanistan.”

“Do you want to guess which one of those has a higher per capita murder rate?” Ken asked.

Robert glanced over and then did a double take. “Fuck. There is such a thing as knowing too much,” he said. “Were you over there? In Afghanistan?”

“Never set foot in the country. I was stationed at Camp Lemonnier in Djibouti.”

“Where?”

Ken didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse that most Americans didn’t know what was going on in that part of the world. At least they didn’t make assumptions about what he might have seen or experienced. “It’s in Africa. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Touchy,” Robert said.

“Very,” Ken agreed. “So, where are we going?”

“I’m going to take you to lunch. Jail food sucks. And then the club owners should start showing up at their clubs so we can go talk to them. If you can get them to talk about the earlier attacks, that’s their choice. I haven’t betrayed any confidences.”

Chapter 6: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-6-17772109 

Chapter 7: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-7-17795246 

Chapter 8: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-8-17856154 

Chapter 9: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-9-17964838 

Chapter 10: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-10-18290483 

Chapter 11: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-11-18463879 

Chapter 12: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-12-18561312 

Chapter 13: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-13-18583563 

Chapter 14: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-14-18835280 

Chapter 15: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-15-19009742 

Chapter 16: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-16-19049610 

Chapter 17: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-17-19064720 

Chapter 18: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-18-19083274 

Chapter 19: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-19-19142224 

Chapter 20: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-20-19153311 

Chapter 21, 22, 23: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-21-21192263 

Chapter 24: https://www.patreon.com/posts/witness-wore-24-21260957