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He cracked a smile and laughed, insinuating he was joking. But it didn’t really land with me. I prescribed to the belief that there was a little truth in every joke, and Walter’s joke sounded pretty damn truthful.
“You can leave your car on the sidewalk, I came over here in a golf cart. Come on and hop in. I’ll take you two to see Dylan.”
We followed Walter to the golf cart. I was looking around, admiring the flowers that were growing on the edge of the road. We hopped into the cart, Fox taking the seat next to Walter while I jumped in the back. I held on to the side as he stepped on the gas and started us down the driveway. It wasn’t a long route, but Walter drove around the fountain and past the three peacocks, through an ivy-covered wooden tunnel, and out into the backyard, which was half yard and half Miami bay. He parked the cart next to a towering stone statue of a lion, standing on hind legs with its life-size jaw gaping open. There was loud dance music pumping from invisible speakers, the kind that is really only bearable when some kind of drug is involved.
The music lowered. “Guests!” The voice came from the pool. It had those infinity edges, raised so that it looked out over the bay. We walked over the plush green grass and over to the pool where two men were treading water, one holding the other, kissing playfully. Another man, the one who had spotted us, swam over to the edge of the pool, looking up at us.
“Hey there, Dylan.” Fox crouched down and offered a hand to shake. I followed suit, shaking the man’s wet hand.
“And who’s this handsome slab of man meat?”
“Relax, Mr. Rose.” Fox shot him a look. “This is Jonah Brightly. He’s a new detective at Stonewall and is going to be working the Dragon case with me.”
“Well, it’s great to meet you, Mr. Brightly.” Dylan gave me a wink and swirled around, splashing some water onto the bright white concrete floor. Fox and I stood back up. “Boys! Come say hello to the men who are going to save our lives!”
I leaned toward Fox. “He’s one for the dramatics, huh?” I said in a hushed whisper.
Fox chuckled and gave a small nod.
“Detectives, meet my partners, Lucien and Pierre.”
The two men who had been previously tangled together were now swimming lazily over to us. They looked like complete opposites, one with silky brown hair tied up in a messy bun and tattoos all over his body while the other one was as clean-shaven as they come, with a buzzed haircut and zero markings or body hair on him.
“Lucien,” said the one with the bun and tattoos. He reached out a wet hand and we shook. Same with Pierre, who suggested the three of them get out of the pool and dry up.
It was considerate. It made me like Pierre the most out of the trio, not that I had anything against the other two. As they got out of the pool and we talked some more, it was clear to see that Dylan was determined to put a stop to this. He made it obvious that he felt his club was being targeted and that the LGTBQ community which found an escape in Club Trinity were the ones who were being affected the hardest.
He led us and his partners through an airy and well-decorated living room, windows all around which bathed the space in summer light. Past the white couches and around the cheetah statue we went, entering into a wide hall. I noticed a couple of photos hanging, showing the smiling trio on various occasions.
“Right in here, gentlemen.” Dylan stepped aside and allowed us to enter first. I stepped into the living room, which was hard to classify as a room. It looked more like a greenhouse, with an entire wall and ceiling functioning as windows, giving us a gorgeous view of Biscayne Bay, the light blue waters rolling with the gentlest of waves just outside. Inside, there were dozens and dozens of plants of all kinds, some in hanging pots, others hanging out of their pots. There were brightly colored orchids and thick ferns and beautiful bromeliads.
“Wow,” I said, looking around with admiration on my face. Even the air felt fresh. “This is stunning.”
“Is it too hot? I can throw up the shades.” He went over to a button on the wall near the door, but I shook my head.
“All right, perfect,” Dylan said. The men were still in their swim trunks, but they had each thrown on a shirt and wrapped a towel around their dripping waists.
“Wine? Beer? Kombucha, anyone?” Pierre asked as he walked toward where I assumed the kitchen was. Fox shook his head, and I also politely declined. Lucien, on the other hand, asked for two cans for himself and went to go sit down on the dark red love seat.
