The Witness Wore a Puppy Tail, chapter 18 (Patreon)

"This one," Robert said as he nodded toward a door painted the most obnoxious pink Ken had ever seen.

"Where did anyone ever come up with the stereotype that gays had more taste?" Ken asked grimly as he pushed past a group of smokers loitering on the sidewalk. Robert walked close behind, and Ken opened the door for him.

"It's a way of marginalizing the contributions of homosexuals. I mean, most historians agree that Leonardo da Vinci and Langston Hughes had lots of connections with the homosexual community and probably had homosexual relationships, but acknowledging them as gay would mean crediting homosexuals with some of history's pivotal moments.”

“Where do you get this stuff?”

When Robert turned, a childlike enthusiasm seemed to light his face. “This is why I love journalism. Every time I write a story, every time I dive deep into the background research, I learn more. I forget four facts for every one that sticks in here,” he said, tapping the side of his head, “but I still remember enough. Like, if you notice, fashion and decorating are traditionally the realm of gay men, but they’re the same areas women were relegated to in the past. I read a great internet article about the degrading of traditional women’s work and how associating gay men with women was used to marginalize their influence."

Ken just put a hand on the man's back to propel him across the mostly empty dance floor.

"You must be in heaven on trivia nights." Ken scanned the room.

"I prefer research nights. For example, when all this is over and these assholes are convicted, I would love to do a little research with you. I want to know every ticklish spot, every fantasy, and every kink.  So, is this how you see it working between us?" Robert asked with a wide innocent smile.

"I see a gag in your future, Millan," Ken threatened.

"The interesting thing would be what you did with me once you had me gagged." Robert nearly bounced as they walked across the floor toward the bar.

"Until this case is over, I wouldn't do anything except use the peace and quiet to get some work done," Ken answered. About a half second too late, he realized his mistake. Robert smiled even wider.

"No problem. I get the ethical implications of sleeping with someone involved in your case," Robert nodded. "Conviction first and then research. I'm patient."

"I doubt that," Ken sighed, giving up on even trying to explain why his own mouth kept getting tangled in his words. “Do you want me to wait back here?” Ken asked. Robert had been wildly protective of his sources, and Ken didn’t want to step on that. He didn’t expect Robert to flash him a wide, delighted grin. 

“I’ll tell them you’re a cop, and then if they want to talk in private, you can fade.”

Ken nodded. “Deal.” As they approached the bar, Ken could tell which of the men behind the bar and drinkers knew Robert; they smiled widely as Robert approached.

"Oh my, it looks like Robert found a Daddy big enough to keep him in line.” A leather man raised his beer glass in salute. Robert blushed. Ken frowned, not quite sure where the embarrassment came from considering that Robert seemed to have no shame, but Robert just walked a little faster, breaking the connection between them as he called out to several people in the bar.

A number returned whistles and appreciative looks towards Ken. The man behind the bar looked a little more suspicious, probably because he had given Ken the brush-off last time Ken had tried interviewing people in the area.

Ken stepped closer to Robert, putting his hand on his Robert's back again in order to move the man right up to the bar. Then Ken could stand behind him, trapping him between Ken's body and the barstool. While Robert might be off limits to him for professional reasons, Ken had no trouble letting word get around that he wasn't available to anyone else either.

“Who’s your friend?” the leatherman asked.

The bartender answered before Robert could. “He’s a cop.”

Instead of fleeing, the leatherman studied Ken intensely before turning his attention back to Robert. "That so? I would have dressed up in a cop's uniform if I knew that's what did it for you, Bobby.” He propped his huge motorcycle boot on the seat of the stool next to him.

"Buddy I only—"

"I have a problem," Ken interrupted. If he let Robert start in on one of his lectures, everyone would escape before Ken got to ask his questions. And now that they were here together, Ken had the feeling that no one would talk if Ken let Robert speak for him. The men in the bar watched Ken. If they found him lacking, it wouldn’t matter what Robert wanted. The bartender came closer, wiping the counter as he came.

Ken went for shock value and the community’s desire to protect one of their own. "Someone tried to push into Robert's apartment and bash his head in with a bat. I'm interested in who might have been talking about Millan. Someone who might have mentioned him down here stirring people up about these gay bashers."

Ken watched while several people exchanged looks, clearly trying to figure out whether it was a cop or Robert's lover who was asking.

"Robert, you okay?" the bartender asked as he decided to ignore Ken.

"Yeah, no biggie." The shrug that followed was not convincing.

"Yes, it was a biggie," Ken contradicted him. "He fought off three intruders, and I'm assuming that someone mentioned Robert to someone, casually brought up his name and his research, complained to someone, maybe. But a rumor started somewhere."

The bartender touched Robert’s hand. "Do you need somewhere to stay?" The man’s concern aggravated Ken. If someone would help him catch these guys, Robert wouldn't have to look for another place to stay.

"He's staying with me," Ken said without any further explanation. Hopefully Carol and Gary could arrange that. And the next time Ken had a big case, he was going to avoid using up all his favors too early. That was not a danger listed on the detective’s exam. The announcement caused a number of the patrons to trade wary looks.

"Good to know he has a safe place," the bartender said after a moment. "Guys around here call me Pat, but I think we met before."

"When I was doing interviews," Ken confirmed as he held out his hand without moving. It meant he had to lean into Robert to reach across the bar. Ken trapped the bar owner in his best scowl, but something distracted him from the corner of his eye.

A man with jeans tight enough to cause infertility and a mesh shirt slowly slid away from the group at the bar. "So, do you know who might have talked about Robert and his research?" Ken shifted his focus to the new man.

"I don't even know the kid; I'm just drinking." The man backed away. Ken might have bought that except Robert tensed up, and he suddenly found the scratched floor interesting. Ken could read the distress in his body even if he didn't know the exact cause.

"When we came in, you looked like you knew Robert." Ken moved away from the bar and closed in on the man.

"Just appreciating a cute ass." The guy laughed nervously.

"What are you playing at, Wilson? I've seen you and Robert at that table in the corner," the leather man said, clearly siding with Ken in this.

"Hey, who I talk to—" Robert started to object.

"Quiet, boy," the leather man ordered, and Ken contained a small smile when Robert actually did shut up with a strange, strangled noise.

"Look, I just don't feel like talking to some pig," Wilson snapped before he calmly turned as though he had no more interest in the conversation. He took two casual steps toward the tables before he dashed for the door. Ken glanced back toward Robert, unsure about leaving him, but the leatherman stood and placed himself in front of Robert in a silent promise to protect him. Only then did Ken storm after Wilson.

On the street, Ken saw a mesh-clad back running North, his arms flying wildly as he ran.

Ken shoved people out of the way. "Hey!" someone yelled, but he ignored that as he pounded down the sidewalk. Putting one hand under his coat, he released the strap on his weapon. Something had spooked Wilson, and Ken was betting that it had something to do with Robert's attack.

A streetlight turned red in Wilson's path, but he darted into the traffic. Horns blasted. Wilson slid across the hood of a red Honda and kept running.

Ken didn't waste his breath on calling for the man to stop, he just charged into the already jammed traffic. The Honda’s driver had opened his door, his face a mask of panic as Ken ran past. At least one person had out a cell phone. Wilson glanced back, and then headed diagonally across a busy lane.

Cursing, Ken checked the traffic. Fuck and double fuck. A semi rumbled past forcing Ken to wait before he darted into the street, barely outrunning a minivan. Wilson was almost at the sidewalk himself, but then he glanced over his shoulder. At the sight of Ken closing in, he reversed direction and tried to double back. A squeal of tires and a heavy thud ended the escape attempt.

Ken winced, running toward the Jeep which now sat cockeyed in the street. A Mustang hit the Jeep with a crunch of metal against metal, and the Jeep bounced forward into a parked car, setting off the alarm.

Ken looked away from the hood of the Jeep. Vivid red streaks and splatters marred the yellow paint. Wilson's head had cracked.

"Oh shit," a familiar voice breathed. “No, no, no.” Ken turned to see Robert right behind him, his face white under the streetlight.

"Don't look," Ken said as he moved between Robert and the accident. Robert continued to blink without moving as though he could still see the dead body through Ken.

"Hey, Millan, people need help. Check the mustang's driver. Make sure he's okay," Ken pushed Robert away from the carnage. Slowly, Robert looked up, his eyes dark with shock. "Check the driver. See if you can help," Ken repeated.

Robert turned without a word, wandering with uneven steps back to the Mustang.

"Are you okay?" Ken asked the driver of the Jeep who looked just as pale as Robert.

"I didn't see him. He just ran out. Oh my god. He's dead."

Ken called dispatch as he checked Wilson’s pulse. It didn’t take a paramedic to know that he was dead, though. A large piece of the skull was indented and he lay in a growing blood stain. Ken had watched enough people die to know a person couldn’t recover from this much blood loss. A crowd gathered around the accident, and cars crawled past them on the road as the drivers slowed to get a good look at what was left of Wilson.

Since he could do nothing for Wilson, Ken turned his attention to the stunned Jeep driver. "The ambulance is coming," Ken said. He guided the man back toward the Mustang and encouraged him to sit on the curb. The Mustang’s driver shoved Robert to the side and stomped over.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, stopping right in front of me?" the Mustang's driver demanded, his hands gesturing wildly.

The Jeep owner didn’t even look up as Ken stepped between the two men. "There was a fatality. Someone ran into the road," Ken said. The angry driver glanced up toward the front of the Jeep. 

"Dead?" The anger drained.

Ken showed his badge. "I'm a police officer. I just need you to stay at your car until units arrive. Alright?" Ken asked. The man nodded mutely and returned to his Mustang. Robert was still standing halfway between the two cars. The Mustang had hit the Jeep so hard that they had bounced apart, and now Robert had one hand on the crumpled back end of the yellow Jeep. Ken went over and caught him by the arm.

“Come sit before you fall,” Ken said as he pulled Robert away from the cars. When Ken got his hands on that leatherman, he was going to whip the man’s backside for letting Robert come running into the middle of this. “An ambulance is coming.”

"I seriously don't think an ambulance is going to help," Robert said, his voice rough and unsteady. Ken silently agreed.

"Just focus on breathing." Ken urged Millan to sit next to the Jeep driver. Both looked unsteady enough that a brisk wind would push them over. For a student, Robert was witnessing entirely too many horrors these days. Unfortunately, Ken didn't know any way of protecting him except to track down the three killers and put them behind bars where they couldn't threaten anyone. Ken pressed his leg up against Robert's side, and the man leaned into him.

"Just breathe," Ken repeated softly as he listened to Robert's labored efforts.

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