A short fictional work based on the tv series 'Without a Trace'
Disclaimer: Without a Trace is owned by Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS Productions and Warner Bros. This fictional tale is for entertainment purposes only, not for commercial gain, which is prohibited.
Jack and Vivian were waiting in the large formal living room of the Riccardi home. The rich burgundy and navy blue furniture and rugs were accented by very expensive antiques with Italian flair. Gold and crystal fixtures, lamps and small ivory sculptures were scattered throughout the room. Giancarlo and his wife Anna were fans of the Renaissance era and it showed. Jack eyed the large painting of a trio of Rubenesque women over the ornate fireplace and his clucked his tongue.
"What? You don't have one over your fireplace?" Vivian teased.
"I think I dated that one in the middle," he joked just as a male voice sounded from behind them.
"I'm sorry, Agent Malone." Giancarlo, apologizing, swept into the room. He was a tall, lean man with graying dark hair and piercing black eyes. He stood several inches over six feet and still turned most female heads within range.
"That's okay," Jack returned and shook the offered hand. "This is Special Agent Vivian Johnson. We'd like to discuss your son and his movements before he went missing. What can you tell me about the meeting you two were supposed to have?"
"Coffee?" Giancarlo offered and both agents declined. "Well," he started, taking a seat on the navy, burgundy and gold silk sofa. "Peter had been very upset for the last week or so. He had been planning on moving back East to take over more of the business. There was an opening at the Laurels and since the homes come furnished, he could move in right away. He had an appointment to go over the formalities with Joan Amherst, she's the CEO of the Laurels."
"You mentioned to the police that he seemed fearful of something?" Vivian prodded, eyeing the fiftyish magnate.
"Yes, he was clearly distressed when I spoke with him yesterday morning. He was on his way to the airport. Peter was very upset about the two missing men from the other Laurels developments. The police have not uncovered any leads, but he got a phone call last week that upset him."
"From who?" Jack queried.
"He didn't know. It was one of those computer-enhanced voice messages. It warned him about coming to live in New York where 'his kind' wasn't welcome."
"His kind? Those are the exact words?" Vivian asked.
"Yes," the worried father admitted. "Look, my son's lifestyle, his sexual preference is not one I am entirely comfortable with. I have four boys, all good strong young men and I am proud of each one of them. My wife and I were upset when Peter told us he was gay, but we accepted it. But when you're in the public eye, people are not always so kind."
"So he's gotten threats before?" Vivian asked.
"Not threats as much as filthy letters, derogatory remarks, that kind of thing. But I think because this message came after he began asking questions on his own about the other two men, it did shake him up."
"What did he find out?"
"They both got messages warning them to stay away. From what the police told me, they also got these calls just before they disappeared. But that first call mentioned his mother, that something would happen to her if he didn't 'stay in Frisco with his own kind'. My wife is in our Tuscany Villa, our two youngest boys are still in school there. I have the very best security, he knows that."
"First call?" Vivian eyed the father carefully. "There was more than one?"
"Yes, shortly before he left California, it graphically described what would happen to his mother if he didn't comply. It mentioned that he'd be watching them."
"When did he tell you this?" Vivian asked.
"After he arrived, when he was in the car on his way to meet me, he was being followed, or so he suspected. He phoned me to say a black van had been behind him on the road and he didn't like the way it was following his every turn, he had a bad feeling. That's when he mentioned the other call, despite the fact that I assured him his mother was fine and safe. I told him to take the first exit and find a public place, like a store or a restaurant and head inside and I'd have the police come. That's the last time I spoke with him."
"Where on the Turnpike was this?" Jack asked.
"Not far from where they found his car. He never made it to the exit."
"Okay, the black van, did he mention seeing a driver?"
"No, just a black van. The police said that they were looking into that, watching the Casino camera footage from the parking area to see if he was followed from there."
"Good," Jack agreed. "Mister Riccardi? Do you have any enemies that would go to this extreme?"
"I have business rivals and yes, Agent Malone, in my line of work there are disagreements and jealous businessman, but I've never felt threatened. I pay my security team well. I cannot recall anyone recently who has presented a problem that way."
"What about Peter?" Vivian inquired
"Peter," he mused, "Uhm... not that I can think of. He was well liked and respected in the company. He's had only two long term relationships, one in college and one that ended about a year ago. Here."
"Thanks," Jack replied, taking the file the other man offered. He began to flip through it and saw photos, names, dates and a synopsis of information.
"That's most of his public life since college, but I don't think this is tied to that. I think it's connected to the two other men who went missing."
"We're checking that as well," Jack noted, rising from the stiff sofa. The rich fabric and fancy surroundings had him feeling a bit uncomfortable. "We'll be in touch. If you think of anything else, you call."
"I will and thanks so much," Giancarlo offered.
Sam was just finishing some soup when the phone rang. She pushed the mug away and reached over the open files about Adam Sayles and Brad Everett to answer the call.
"Spade."
"Sam, how are you coming on that end, anything?" Jack spoke loudly, trying to overcome the noise in the street in Atlantic City.
"Nothing yet. I've got the full reports from the California and Florida police and nothing stands out. Sayles went missing on his way to a business trip to Dallas. Everett was tougher to track down; he was due home from a Bahamas trip and never made it. From what their friends reported, both had gotten calls similar to the one Peter got. Vague voice in a box sound, the same 'your kind' isn't wanted, don't push your luck or else..." she sat back and reached for her diet soda. "You got anything?"
"Not much," Jack answered. "The surveillance camera from the casino parking garage shows a black van pulling out behind Peter, but it had no plates. The driver appears to be a man, youngish, but it's hard to tell. He's got a hooded sweatshirt up with dark glasses. They're checking the other cameras to see if they can find a shot of them approaching the van. The car was clean, no prints or fibers. Vivian is staying, she's checking the hotel suite and the stores around the lobby. I'll be back later, I'm gonna head over to the AC airport and get the manifest of the flight, do those follow-ups. The boys check in?"
"No, but Max did," Sam chuckled, "He was ready to shoot both of them. Sounds like Danny is taking his role very seriously and Martin isn't having a good time with it."
"They'll be fine." Jack eyed his watch. "Okay, keep at it."
Danny tossed two boxes of frozen pizza and paused by the next case. He scrutinized it, took out a large bag of buffalo wings, a box of mozzarella sticks, another one of taquitos and a large bag of seasoned fries, placing them into the cart and moving towards the Ice Cream. In between choosing Death by Chocolate or Strawberry Cheesecake, his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and flipped it open.
"Danny? What's going on?"
"Jack?" Danny spoke into his cellphone from the Supermarket aisle. "We're in. Ms. Amherst wouldn't win any personality prizes, but she accepted the application. If Martin ever hangs up his badge, he could make some serious dough being a gigolo. He doesn't even break a sweat and they swoon."
"Is Martin with you? Where are you?" Malone asked.
"I'm picking up some food and things at the market. I left the little woman at home. Max has a moving van coming anytime now with our clothes and stuff. Anything we should know?"
"No, Vivian didn't get anything in A.C. We're going to meet back at the office at five to go over everything. We're missing something. So you're all set?"
"Yeah, we're gonna wait on Max and then chill in the new digs. Me and my honey are gonna break in that hot tub. I think a nice white Sangria will loosen him up some"
"Look, you keep your eyes open. Whoever is behind this is very careful. Check in later."
"Okay, pop!" Danny teased and hung up, turning into the cookie aisle. "Gotta keep my boy's junk food fix sated." He noted of Martin's sweet tooth. He tossed in three different varieties of chocolate cookies, which landed next to the potato chips, a large bag of chocolate candy bars and several liters of coke in different flavors. Eyeing the full cart, he nodded wisely. "That outta hold us for tonight."
Martin was on the computer when he heard Danny calling from the floor below. The condo was beautiful, decorated in soothing tones of cream, peach and aqua. The large living room had cream and ivory rugs and walls with cream, aqua and peach furniture. A large marble fireplace was the center point. The kitchen was in cream and sage, something almost too beautiful to use. Every modern appliance was primed and ready. There was even a television built into the refrigerator door, something that Danny was fascinated with.
The dining room and study were the other rooms on the first floor. Three bedrooms, two full baths and an office were on the second floor. In the basement, was a workout room, complete with a sauna and hot tub. There was also, a laundry room, a game room and a large recreation room. There was also a large patio off the dining room that overlooked a garden.
"Hey, you going deaf?" Danny asked, poking his head into the office where Martin's computer was set up. "I've been calling you for five minutes."
"Sorry," Martin replied, stretching and rubbing his neck. "Sam was right, there's nothing here. I can't find a link, it's gotta be there somewhere. This Everett guy was a playboy, could be he pissed somebody off good."
"Nah, I don't think so," Danny shoved a cookie into his mouth. "He got taken second. If it were personal, a crime of passion, Sayles wouldn't be missing or Peter."
"Chocolate?" Martin swiveled, eyeing his partner's cocoa muddied tongue wagging at him.
"That's my bloodhound," Danny laughed, tapping Martin's cheek. "White fudge covered Oreos, only the best for my honey." He dangled a half eaten cookie in front of the transfixed blue eyes. Just as the hand reached up, he snatched it back, shoving it in his mouth.
"Pig," Martin hissed, returning to his screen. "What if Everett was the target? The perp knew where he was living. Maybe he took Sayles first to make it look like a stalker."
"Nah, I think it's one of the residents here, a holier-than-thou blueblood who has it in for gay men." Danny yawned. "They don't want their lilywhite Laurel pond tainted with colorful fishes."
"Fish," Martin corrected.
"I'll pass, I'm full from dinner," Danny replied, wondering what caused Martin to groan. They'd had the taquitos and mozzarella sticks first, then devoured pizza and wings. "You toil away, here, I'm hitting the hot tub. Those notes read just as good in there, print them out."
"Yeah, maybe," Martin admitted, the thought of sinking in the steamy water was appealing. Besides he was tired, he'd been up before five a.m.
It was almost an hour later when Danny had tried all the gym equipment and worked up a good sweat. He slipped into the steamy water of the hot tub and sighed heavily. The jets hit the small of his back and felt like fingers massaging his muscles. He frowned and eyed the empty room and doorway.
"All work and no play make Martin a more uptight that usual boy," he mumbled, eyeing the intercom. He slipped from his seat on the rose marble and padded to the wall, pushing the button.
Martin closed the chest of drawers and turned off the gas fireplace in the bedroom he'd chosen. It was done in shades of light and pale blues, in an almost beach-like theme. It was very pleasant and restful. He was in the doorway, just about to shut the light off when a low and sultry voice came through the intercom.
"Danny est enfermo"
"Danny is sick?" he translated of the sing-song toned question. "Yeah, I'll buy that, he's one sick pup."
He was still mulling over his thoughts and trying to find the missing key in the mystery as he went downstairs. He stopped in the kitchen and pulled out a small cooler from the cabinet. He took some mineral water, fruit and the last of the Oreos. By the time he hit the entry to the chic workout room, another question in an equally musical tone was sounded.
"Que haces, medico moi?"
"What are you doing..." Martin repeated with a smirk, thwacking the back of Danny's slick dark head. "my doctor?"
"Si," Danny wagged his brows as the lean body slid into the water. "The only one who can cure what ails this needy body... this hungry boy..."
"Think again," Martin shot back, as Danny chuckled and shook his head. "What?"
"I can't believe you're wearing a bathing suit," Danny erupted into a full laugh when Martin's face blanched.
"You're naked?" Martin's voice rose in alarm, eyeing the foaming water. "Jesus... Danny..."
"Don't worry, my wiggly love muffin," Danny slid over and cupped Martin's cheek, then gave him a saucy wink. "You won't get pregnant, my many, many mighty sperm have met a tragic death in this hot water."
"Humble aren't you?" Martin reached for the cooler Danny had brought with him and took out two bottles of mineral water, handing one over, he frowned. "Something doesn't add up."
"You don't think this is a gay bashing thing?" Danny asked, taking the cold drink.
"No, for some reason, I don't think it is. I think one of the men was the solo target, the others are just fodder." Martin eased his weary, wet body onto the jets, moaning as the pulsating water began to knead his skin.
"Vivian thinks so too," Danny added, taking a long draw and suckling the lip of the bottle suggestively and sliding his arm over Martin's neck and chest, pressing against him as he reached into the cooler for a piece of fruit.
"You're enjoying this a little too much," Martin remarked over a slight grin and wiggled away from the tangled limbs.
"Watching you squirm like ripe bait on a hook? Hell yeah!" Danny growled, shoving a pineapple spear in his mouth. "Gettin' paid for it is icing on the top."
"Cake," Martin corrected.
"No thanks, I'm watchin' my weight," Danny declined, slurping at his pineapple.
"No, I didn't mean to eat, I meant, oh never mind." Martin rejected the idea of correction . For a while they tossed some ideas around, none of Danny's suiting his determined partner. So he reluctantly decided it was time to leave the hot tub.
"Okay, let's go over everything," Danny suggested, rising from the steaming water. "Jealous?"
"I look that desperate to you?" Martin shot back at the glistening torso that was now displayed before him and God in all its glory.
Danny pulled his sweatpants on and hung the towel around his neck. He followed his restless partner up the stairs and back to the office. They went over Sam's notes first, then Vivian's and finally Jack's. Was Peter the real target? Were the others just window dressing? What if they had a common enemy? The bank statements, investments and other background information didn't shed any common light. Was the hunter already finished with the game? Or would they be targeted?
Danny was reviewing Adam Sayles college years statement when he saw Martin's head bob. The eyes were heavy and he noted the clock behind Martin reading nearly midnight. He rose, collected the folders and carefully stored them inside the hollowed inside of the fake DVD player that was attached to the television in the corner. Then he rubbed the back of Fitzgerald's wavy brown locks.
"Hey, Cinderfella, it's midnight, get your glass slippers and take your skinny ass home."
"Huh?" Martin blinked and shook his heavy head. "Sorry..."
"It'll be there in the morning," Danny noted, heading for the door. He waited until Martin was nearly in his room. "Last chance."
"What?" Martin paused, making the mistake of looking at the animated face down the hall. "Havin' your unbroken ass slide all over my satin sheets."'
"Goodnight, Danny," Martin grimaced, heading into his own room.
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