Following Protocol

         The body stood out like a chicken hawk in a hen house. Naked, his arms positioned across his midsection, there was no clue how long he’d been there. This portion of highway was often untraveled as motorists preferred the new highway.
         Still considered a rookie on the force, Officer Will Jeffries wasn’t sure what he was seeing. The body reminded him of his parents’ funeral and the way they looked in the caskets: pasty white, plastic, flat and soulless. Unnaturally still.
         On a closer inspection of the young man’s face, he recognized him as a missing person everyone had been looking for over the past two weeks: Jared Kyles. Six foot, blond crew cut, blue eyes, muscled—a matching description.
         Jeffries called it in and, following procedure, secured the scene. An older woman with salt and pepper hair stood off a ways in a trench coat too big for her frail looking body. He placed the woman who’d called it in behind the driver’s seat, leaving the door open. He removed his hat and shook his coal black hair. After a quick look at the sky, he radioed that the weather was changing. A thunders storm was on the way, the breeze held a wet but pleasant chill. They needed to hurry if they wanted to preserve the body dump.
         Captain Harry O’Brien, Jeffries’ boss, and Detective Earl Davis were the first to arrive. It was just like Jeffries thought. This was a serious case.
         “Jeffries,” Captain O’Brien barked as he squinted through emerald green eyes.
         “Ana Fareport called it in. I drove out here and made positive ID. She’s in the back.” Jeffries jerked his thumb toward his cruiser. “Look at him, Captain, he don’t look right.”
         Jeffries was standing in a military stance. It was Captain O’Brien who brought it out, even though neither had served.
         “Why’s she out here?” Detective Davis asked, an aging man whose few hairs flew in the wind. He sounded angry.
         “Cleaning up litter’s what she said. Adopted a piece of the highway, cleans it daily. Swears Kyles wasn’t here this time yesterday. My take? She’s old and has no life.”
         “Jeffries,” came the bark.
         “Sorry, sir,” Jeffries said, watching as the medical examiner and crime scene unit showed up at the same time.
         Silence descended as the Captain and the detective watched the flurry of action around the body.
         Jeffries turned to look at the do-gooder in his car. He noticed she looked frightened, her little body just shaking away. He figured she wouldn’t be picking up trash anymore.
         “Officer Jeffries,” said Detective Davis. “You should go tell the family. Tell Amanda.”
         “Sir, her name’s not Amanda.”
         “The sister, Jeffries. Go tell the family.”
         Jeffries wasn’t ashamed to ask for the address. The uppers always acted like the rookies knew nothing anyway. Of course his wife liked to say he knew nothing too.
         While cruising back into town, he thought about his wife. Lately she’d started working more. Anytime he’d say anything, she’d shoot it back, asking why he didn’t do more.
         He pulled up to an apartment known as Niblack’s. Also known for drugs, welfare babies, and domestic calls. Everything looked brown: the buildings, the grass, the windows, even the cars.
         Making his way to the third floor, he ignored the sounds of people yelling and the smell of meth.
         “I saw you full in. Did you find Jared? Is he ok?”
         In front of Jeffries stood a woman whose every part screamed short. Short in stature, short muck-brown hair, short shorts, and a short shirt that bared her pudgy midriff.
         This must have been the sister, Amanda.
         “Let’s step inside, Ms. Kyles,” Jeffries said.
         Surprisingly, the apartment was clean, smelled nice, and the décor looked homey. He’d been on calls out there before. The apartments never looked this nice.
         “He didn’t make it,” Amanda said.
         “No, ma’am, he did not,” he said standing at parade rest.
         “I knew it. I told him. I knew it,” she said more calmly than he expected.
         Amanda crossed to her red and blue plaid loveseat, simultaneously sitting and lighting a cigarette.
         “You knew what?” he asked as he pulled out his little notebook.
         There was nowhere to sit unless he sat next to her. He opted to stand and squat down to her level.
         “The party. I told you cops he was goin’ to a dangerous party. You ignored me.” Amanda glared at him as if he were the reason her brother died.
         “They ignored you. I won’t. What party? Where? When?” He slipped into the Indian position like he did with his three year old.
         She looked at Jeffries long and hard. As if deciding something, she nodded her head and started talking.
         “It was the night he didn’t come home. A party for…his kind…to meet older and richer men…like him. I told him no. some of those people weren’t out. Not like him.” She grew quiet, looking off to the recent past. “Nobody was like him.”
         When it seemed like she’d run out of steam, he stood, adjusting the waist of his pants. “Why were they different?”
         She lit another cigarette with the burning ash of the last one. She took so long, he wasn’t sure she’d answer.
         “Jared was proud of who he was. Knew from an early age. What was that saying? He was who he was who he was. That was my baby brother. Those other men weren’t—excuse me, aren’t like that. A secretive bunch. Some married and established others who aim to be.  Being gay to them is best kept in the closet. You know what I mean?”
         “And they all wanted Jared. Six foot one with muscles. And those dimples. He was the dream.”
         Understanding where Amanda’s thoughts were heading, he scribbled some notes and asked a final question.”Do you know woe else was at this party?"
{indent"}All I know is the Channel Two weather man-a real celebrity, Jared called him-and a bunch of doctors. I remember Dr. Lock because that’s my Rissa’s doctor. At least it was.”
         “Do you have any proof?” Jeffries asked.
         “No,” Amanda said, looking him square in the eye. “You said Jared was dead.”
         Back at the station, he filled out his reports and clocked out. He went through the bullpen and left a note for Detective Davis. Doctors at a secret gay party where the dead was last known to be blew Jeffries mind. Believing he’d be interviewing some very important people tomorrow, he walked out a little taller.
         At home, that extra height disappeared as Mavis, his wife, rushed around, getting ready for work. As she flitted through the rooms, he realized he hadn’t seen her smile in a long time.
         “Do you have to go?”
         “Will, you know we need more money. That’s why I took the extra shifts. And whining like Dahlly just makes me angry.”
         “But I worked hard today. A huge case just landed in my lap. Big case and I’m in the thick of it,” he explained, ignoring her last comment and continuing to whine.
         “Does this mean the possibility of a promotion?” she asked.
         Jeffries set at the tiny kitchen table, a juice glass of chocolate milk in front of him. He wouldn’t meet her beautiful green eyes and finally she left the prison cell-sized kitchen. He returned to watching his wife, the nurse; make sure she had everything for a long night in the emergency room. He noticed she looked older with wrinkles and frown lines. Her once fiery red hair was a dull red with spots of gray. She looked bitter as she slid her thick glasses on.”
         Ever since Dahlia was born, Mavis had wanted him to go after a promotion. Three years straight of the same argument, as if being an officer of the law wasn’t enough.
         “Some women want their men off the streets and you want me out there more,” he said many times and it always fell on deaf ears.
         “Mavis, I told you. I’m in the middle of a big case. Now is not the time for another argument. Especially the same argument we’ve had a dozen times before.”
         Jeffries stared down at his milk as the silence grew heavy. Thinking she’d left, he looked up to see her standing in the doorway, she was glaring at him. As soon as she caught his eye, she said, “No ambition.”
         She stormed out and slammed the door. He knew she hoped to wake Dahlia, but she slept like a rock.
         Due to a power outage, the next day he was late fifteen minutes. Once clocked in, he had several urgent messages from both the Captain and Detective Davis.
         After dropping his jacket on a table he headed upstairs.
         “You wanted to see me? Is it about the party?”
         “Precisely,” the Captain answered, hands in a steeple in front of his face. His dark brown eyes were mere slits as he glared at Jeffries.
         The Captain was an intimidating man. His wrinkles even appeared threatening. The salt and pepper hair commanded respect. So did his expensive suit.
         “Who’d you discuss this with?” Detective Davis asked, his little black notebook in front of him.
         Jeffries wondered if the man was always angry or if his brow was permanently furrowed. The man’s black hair was messy and looked dirty, stuck in clumps.
         “Discuss? I mean, the sister told me, I filed my reports and left the note. Why?”
         “Doesn’t matter,” barked the Captain. Jeffries noticed he had a sheen of sweat behind the steeple.
         Jeffries glanced around the room. It was the first time he’d been in there. The walls were bare but the shelves were overburdened. The desk was neatly organized. A potted plant hung in the corner.
         “That’s all then with reference to the party. Amanda, the reports and the note we got,” Davis said, ticking off the list on his stubby, yellowed fingers.
         “Jeffries,” the Captain said. “You name two very important people.”
         “Yes, sir, I did.”
         “You implied that they were up to nefarious activities—“
         “I did no such thing. I merely relayed what I was told. I followed protocol.”
         “Do you not think being raped by a broom handle, drained of all blood, and ready for burial’s a nefarious activity?” he barked, jumping up. His chair crashed into the only file cabinet behind him.
         “Cap, I didn’t know any of that. Without that knowledge, how could I imply anything? I was merely following protocol.”
         “But Amanda Kyles believes—“Davis began.
         “Pardon me but who am I to say what she believes. I merely—“
         “Followed protocol, I know,” the Captain said. He righted his chair and sat down. “It’s not what it appears and you’re off the case.”
         “I wasn’t on the case, sir,” Jeffries said as he walked out.
         Fuming at the way he’d been treated, he stormed downstairs and straight to where he’d left his jacket. Jerking it off the table, he headed out to the street.
         Outside, a new rush of adrenaline shot through him. He lit one of the cigars he kept on him. As he put away his gold, monogrammed Zippo, he spotted Amanda Kyles.
         “Officer Jeffries—“
         “I’m not on your case and from the sound of it, you ain’t got a case.”
         “I know,” she said angrily.
         Jeffries stopped and looked at her. She’d aged since he last saw her. He could tell hygiene and fashion weren’t a top priority. Her eyes looked ten years older and he could smell alcohol that wasn’t there before.
         “I got a visit from your detective, just as you said I would,” Amanda told him as she smoked her own cigarette. “Only he didn’t wanna hear what I had to say. Nope. He said the warty was ‘irrelevant and misconstrued,’ his words. Offered to explain what it meant. Like I don’t know. I know exactly what it means. Rich people matter. Poor gay boys don’t.”
         Jeffries didn’t know what to tell her. It was the same impression he’d got.
         “I’m just glad I switched pediatricians. To think I let my baby girl go to Dr. Lock. Monster.”
         “Now, we don’t know for sure Dr. Lock’s involved.”
         “He was at that party,” Amanda said as she lit a new cigarette with the butt of her old one.
         “So he was at that party. Big deal. Doesn’t mean a thing. Besides, it’s lookin’ to be a mortician’s involved. I don’t know.”
         They stood in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Jeffries was still mad at being left out on such a big case.
         “They’re all involved,” Amanda said so quietly, he almost didn’t hear her. Then she got louder. “They’re all involved. Dr. Lock, the mortician, all those rich, closeted homos.”
         That’s when Jeffries realized little Dahlia saw the same doctor. He knew the case would go cold and the truth wouldn’t be known. He knew too much.
         “Amanda, sorry but I gotta go.” With that, Jeffries ran for his car.
         He sped home, breaking protocol and using the sirens.
         “Will, what the…?” Mavis was outside, unloading groceries.
         “Where’s Dahlly?”
         “She fell asleep. What’s happened, Will?”
         “We gotta switch her doctor.”
         “Why? What’s going on?”
         “She needs a new doctor. I want a new doctor.”
         “For goodness sake, William, why?”
         Jeffries picked up a couple bags from the concrete before looking his wife dead in the eyes, inches apart.
         “I’m gonna tell you a story that’ll make you sorry you know. We have a lot to talk about. I want to be a detective.”