Arsonist

CHAPTER 22

Stanton drove to Playland with the windows down, enjoying the breeze coming over him. He thought about the charred remains of what had once been a family. They didn’t appear human. It reminded him of the ashen shells he’d seen at Vesuvius when he travelled to Italy as a graduate student for a summer.

He waited in his car a while and read the Brichard file that Gunn had uploaded onto the SDPD server. There were no outstanding debts other than some student loans Jesse Brichard still had with UNLV for his bachelor’s degree. Neither Jesse nor his wife Darlene had a criminal record and neither one had ever called the police on the other.

Stanton flipped through the preliminary report written by the Medical Examiner’s Office. The bodies had been so fragile they crumbled when an attempt was made to move them. Almost no physical evidence was gathered; everything biological had been burned away in the fire, except their teeth. Stanton regretted that they wouldn’t be able to tell if Darlene had been sexually assaulted; there was a massive difference between the motivations of someone that raped her before her death and someone that just lit them on fire to watch their suffering. He also couldn’t rule out a crime of opportunity: someone breaks in for a routine burglary, discovers the family’s still home, and has to deal with them. Based on that assumption, this would be a person they had to get off the street as quickly as possible.

A slight tinge of resentment tugged at his gut. This is the case he should be working right now, not Cisneros. He had a feeling that the person that killed Michael Cisneros was not as dangerous as the man who lit this fire. Gunn should’ve been at this club following up.

Stanton closed the file and stepped out of the car. He walked down to the main entrance and the large black door. Half of the door was open. There was a large man with tattoos on his neck and arms standing in front of the door and a line had formed behind a velvet rope in front of him. Another bouncer was sitting on a stool with a list in his hand, letting in the VIPs.

Stanton flashed his badge and they let him through without a word. The interior of the club was beautifully decorated in silvers and reds and blacks. The dance floor wasn’t far from the entrance and though it wasn’t yet late, it was packed with drunks and those on ecstasy and other stimulants. Many of them would be dancing until five or six in the morning when they would go home to sleep, wake up in the evening, and head out to the clubs again for Saturday night.

He saw Shannon behind the bar and he pushed his way through the crowd to get there. One man whispered something in his ear and wrapped his arm around his waist and Stanton removed it and kept walking.

“Back for more?” Shannon said when she saw him. “I can’t spare any other employees to the hospital.”

“I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“He’s got a fractured skull. He’s thinking about suing the County.”

“He should.”

“Do you really think he should?”

“No.”

“I knew I liked you,” she said. “Vice would be in here every night looking for any excuse to close me down, wouldn’t they?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “I gotta give it to you cops. You’re one hell of an organized gang.”

“We’re just a reflection of the society we live in. Live with sin,” he said, looking around, “and sin will enter your life.”

She took a shot of tequila that was offered to her by a woman on the other side of the bar. “So what can I do for you…is it Detective?”

“Just call me Jon.”

“What is it you need?”

“I want to talk to you about Michael Cisneros.”

“I already told you everything I know.”

“We both know that’s a lie.”

She looked at him, a slight smile parting her lips as she reached under the bar and came up with a slice of lime. She gently sucked on it before throwing it in a nearby trash bin. “Follow me.”

She walked around the bar to the dance floor and Stanton followed. As they approached the bodies that were packed tightly together, the smell of marijuana and cologne hit him like an invisible wall. The music was too loud to speak over so Stanton just stayed close to Shannon as she slid her way in between the moving bodies like a snake.

They came to the far side of the dance floor to a padded door with a bouncer in front; he opened the door for them and they stepped through.

The room was sound proof and the only thing you could hear from outside was a low thud from the bass. The room was entirely decorated in crimson; all the chairs, couches and even the bar. Several people were scattered throughout the space and two women were making out on one of the couches. Shannon grabbed two drinks from the bar with one hand and sat down next to them, running her other hand over one of their thighs.

“This is Donna. She’s my partner. Have a seat.”

Stanton sat next to her. “You knew Mike better than you let on.”

She tried to hand one of the drinks to Stanton and he turned it down. “Suit yourself.” She guzzled one and then leaned back on the couch, sipping the other. “He would house sit for me whenever I left town. Sometimes I’d hire him to tend bar when he was broke and needed cash. He was a good kid. His mother’s ill and he stayed home to take care of her rather than get his own place.”

“The last time you saw him, or even before, was he with anyone that hasn’t been back since?”

“Yeah, there’s someone.” She lifted the other drink. “But first you gotta take a drink,” she said, with a mischievous smile.

Stanton pulled out his handcuffs and placed them on her wrist. Standing her up, he said, “Shannon Gunther, you are under arrest for obstruction of justice in the homicide investigation of Michael Cisneros. You have the right to remain silent. Should you choose to waive that right, anything you say can and will-”

“Easy, easy, I was just playing. I’ll help you.”

Stanton removed the cuffs. “No games. I want a name right now.”

“We called him Big Harry. His first name was Henry. I don’t know what his last name was. Honestly, I don’t.”

“Would you recognize him in a photo line-up?”

“Yes.”

“Who is he?”

“He’s a meal ticket.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s an older guy that buys things for his younger lovers. Takes care of them. He bought Mikey a new watch last month.”

“Do you have any information about where he lives or what he does?”

“We don’t scan IDs in the VIP section, not yet anyway. But I think Mikey mentioned once that he was a pharmacist.”

“What else do you know about him?”

“That’s it. Other than he likes younger men.”

Stanton glanced around and noticed that the room was filling up now. Various couples were making out on couches and the two canopied beds that took up the corner. Drinks were served to them on side tables along with small white pills that he guessed were ecstasy. This was an orgy room.

“I may need you to identify him later in a photo or live line-up.”

“Sure,” she said, taking a drink. “Why don’t you stay the night here, though? I think you’ll have a life altering experience.” She reached over to one of the women and pinched her nipple. “My girlfriend and I could show you things you couldn’t even dream of.”

Stanton smiled. “Make sure to answer my call. If I have to come back down here you’re leaving in a police car.”

As he turned to walk away she shouted, “Detective, life is too short to be so restrictive. I think you’ll find that in your last days you’ll wish you joined us.”

“It’s not this life I’m worried about. Just make sure to answer your phone when I call.”