HOUSE OF WAX MEETS THE COLLECTOR
The Gay Detective: Kiss the Boys and Make Them Die
Killing them not-so-softly
Harry glowered out the side window of our unmarked car at the crowd of reporters and looky-loos surging around the police barricade. I had a good idea what he was thinking. Nothing like a dead boy in a dark alley to bring out the media — and this was the third in as many weeks.
We pushed through the crowd — well, Harry pushed, I stayed in his wake.
One intrepid TV news team ducked under the barricade and followed us up the alley as we shouldered past them. The camera operator thumbed a fresh memory card into his rig and shoved it in my face while the on-air talent hammered questions at us.
“Detectives, what can you tell us? Is this boy the same as the others? Is it a hate crime? Are we looking at a serial? The public has a right to know.”
My work partner of twenty-some years placed one huge hand over the lens and scowled at the cameraman. Who took a quick step back. I beckoned a patrol officer over. “Please escort these gentlemen behind the cordon.”
I turned and headed up the alley.
As they were led away, the on-air guy shouted over his shoulder. “Come on! You have to give us…
