*
Mac left Liebacker's apartment and went back to Blunt's place. The coroner was gone and other then a tape outline of the body the place looked calm with no tale tail signs of the gruesome murder that had taken place hours earlier. After being in Liebacker's place for the two hours he was there, Blunt's place didn't feel so big or as ornate as it did before.
Unlike Liebacker's place Loren had a small cabinet that acted as his bar. Walking over to the bar Mac grabbed the bottle of scotch that was sitting out, broke the seal and pour a three finger slug into one of lead crystal glasses. It wasn't until the scotched burned down his throat that he realized it was the worst tasting scotch his inexperienced pallet had ever had. He picked up the bottle and looked at it noting that it was a cheap inferior brand that someone like Loren Blunt would never have purchased. Bending down he opened the liquor cabinet and perused the bottles, all of them were top shelf of the highest quality. Mac took out his notebook and made an entry about the scotch.
Grabbing one of the better bottles of scotch and the glass Mac walked into the living room taking a seat in a chair that afforded him a direct view of Loren's portrait. He poured another three fingers and raised the glass.
"To you." He toasted slugging the shot back which went down a lot smoother than the last one. "So tell me something Mr. Blunt, why would anyone want to kill someone as fine-looking as you? What could you have done to piss someone off so badly they would kill you in such a horrendous manner?"
Loren's ice blue eyes just stared down at him. Pouring himself another shot he toasted the portrait again and shot it back. The scotch was doing the job, letting his inhibitions down enough to admit that he wouldn't mind being with someone like Loren Blunt.
Sighing he stood and walked into the bedroom. It was another large room with masculine touches all around. The oversize dark mahogany four poster king size bed dominated the room. The bed had been turned down and even had the appearance that someone had slept in it. The pillows were no longer fluffed and weren't lined up with each other. There were definite signs of sexual activity on the dark sheets that were wrinkled leading Mac to believe that Mr. Blunt had most likely had sex prior to his murder – but with whom?
Mac walked over to the nightstand closest to the door and opened the top drawer. Inside he found a half used tube of K-Y lubricant and two small lengths of rope. Apparently Mr. Blunt either liked to be tied or liked to tie his men to the bed posts. He closed the drawer and walked over to the combination dressing room and closest.
Stepping into the room he flipped on the light. Mac shook his head at the decadence that someone could have so many clothes. The room itself was larger than Mac bedroom and had clothes hanging on expensive hangers on every wall of the closest. The clothes were divided, he figured, into work clothes, casual wear and night time/dress suits and tuxedos. A double breasted black tuxedo hung on a hook facing him. Either Mr. Blunt had attended a formal affair recently or had one in the future. Mac loved the cut of the modern tuxedo and allowed himself a stolen moment to imagine what it would be like to be decked out in something as fine as the one he was starring at. 'In your dreams' he sighed and moved on. There was one whole section that was just filled with shoes, over a hundred pairs in every shape and style and every pair was pristinely shined and well taken care of. Down the center of the room were three low standing three drawer dressers. One held just underwear and the finest linen handkerchiefs he had ever seen each monogrammed with LBC, the next just socks and T-shirts. In the third one the top drawer was a divided jewelry drawer that held two dozen watches all of different styles, various rings and dozens of pairs of cuff links and tie tacks. The bottom two drawers were empty. Room for growth? Or maybe for someone to move in.
Mac walked over to the row of suits that were hanging across the far wall of the room. They didn't have the conventional off the rack labels sewn into them letting him know that Loren had his clothes tailor made. Each suit was subtly different, in fabric, color or cut. Thumbing his way down the line of suits his fingers froze on the last suit hanging in the line stopping Mac dead in his tracks. It was an off the rack suit and quite cheaply made. The type of suit that definitely did not belong in Loren Blunt's closest. Could it have been Shelby Cantrell's suit? Mac ruled that out knowing full well, after the things that Liebacker had told him about Shelby that he too had his suits tailor made – even if men like Loren Blunt had to pay for them.
Now he had two mysteries to solve. Why the inferior brand of scotch and now a cheap suit in Loren Blunt apartment? Was it the man he was entertaining? If so how did he leave without his clothes?
Mac continued his journey through Loren's apartment heading into the master bathroom. The room had every amenity Mac's didn't – from a sunken bathtub built for two (or three) to a walk in shower that could hold more than two people as well. It appeared that Loren Blunt didn't care to do anything alone. On the oversize counter there were upscale products for shaving, cleaning your face and brushing your teeth. Like everything in the apartment it was all high end. But Mac didn't expect anything less.
Turning Mac rested his backside against the bathroom sink and looked through the closest into the Master bedroom. Something appeared off. The width of the Master bedroom and bathroom didn't match the width of the closest and since the bedroom didn't back up to another apartment there was either some dead space...or...another room. Mac went back to the closest and walked the wall that would have originally been on the street view. He ran his hand along the wall until he came across a small hook tucked into the corner. He flipped the hook and a door size panel of the wall opened towards him.
Mac walked around to the doorway and looked into the dark room. He took a step forward and felt along the wall until his fingers found the light switch and he flicked it on. In stunned silence Mac moved into the hidden room and after taking a deep breath looked around.
Mac was standing in a room the size of the closet that was a completely decked out dungeon. Loren Blunt had a kinky side to him...and that only made Mac smile. They were two birds of a feather!
As intrusive as he felt Mac couldn't help himself he had to look and touch everything in the room. He especially liked the X-style cross on the wall that had leather cuffs attached to each end and wondered if Loren cuffed his prey or was cuffed in. It didn't matter to Mac. He loved being tied up and tying his partner up – although it had been a long time and what seemed like a lifetime ago since he had been in a dungeon...
************
Mac's Story – Part I
I was the first of four boys born to the second generation of an Irish Catholic family that had long ago settled in the Bronx. Every male since my grandfather had been beat cops protecting their beloved streets of New York. The McParson clan of cops was as famous in the Bronx as the Rockefellers were in Manhattan – only without the riches.
I did have every intention of being a cop...I just didn't want the same life my grandfather and father had. I had aspirations of being a homicide detective, which thankfully my family wholeheartedly supported. As my grandfather put it I was adding a new element to our family history.
Following our family tradition I joined the army as soon as I graduated high school, did my four years and a week after I was out entered the police academy. The only custom I hadn't fulfilled was having a woman by my side with children at her breasts.
The problem was I had done the dating women thing all through high school and the army but was never able to sustain a relationship more than a few weeks and could never imagine myself spending a 'lifetime' with any of them. Much to the dismay of my family I didn't think marriage was on the horizon for me at any point in my life.
