The Case of the Choirboy Killer (A Mark Julian, Vampire P.I. Mystery)
Author: L.G. Fabbo-Gonnella
Series: Mark Julian, Vampire P.I. Book One
Genre: Paranormal, M/M, Gay Romance, Gay Fiction, Mystery and Detective, Dark Urban Fantasy
Imprint: Ai Press
Flame rating: 2 flames- Stories will have some love scenes. These will be more sensual then graphic and will mostly rely on euphemism.
Buy from: Amazon Kindle Available to download for Kindle Unlimited subscribers!
Cover design: Les Byerley
Cover photo courtesy of Christian Campbell
Cover model: Jacopo Rampini
Mark Julian is New York’s only private eye for the supernatural. He has a job to do, one that includes not getting romantically involved with humans. Until a feeding frenzy on gay men crosses his path with irresistible Detective Vincent Pasquale of the NYPD. The paranormal world is about to collide with the human world, in more ways than one…
The city is being hit by a wave of killings where the victims share two things in common: 1) they are gay and, 2) they have been drained of blood. The press is having a field day using a witness’ description to label him as “the choirboy killer” and the gay community is up in arms. Worse the local vampire council is convinced the killer one of their own who has gone rogue and is intentionally committing these activities as an affront the entire undead community. “I mean we just don’t act this way here,” sniffed the head of the council, “I mean this is New York City after all!”
The council goes to the only person from their community who they think can find the killer and end his reign. Mark Julian, a vampire like themselves and New York’s only private eye for the supernatural world. With the help of his secretary Jaime, an incubus-succubus changeling sex demon he begins the hunt. His only major problem is that one of New York’s finest is also on the trail of the fiend who is dispatching the city’s citizens. When hunky detective Vincent Pasquale and Julian cross paths the gay detective finds the well-built handsome law officer is not only impeding his quiet search but also, for the first time in centuries, getting him heated up as well. Will they join forces or will one of them fall victim to the sensational choirboy killer?
Bonus Feature: The Curious Case of the Runaway Incubus
“He looked like a damned choirboy,” Detective Vincenzo Pasquale swore as he reviewed his notes. “All I get from my only witness is that he looked like a choirboy!” The detective ran one of his hands through the dark hairs on his head in frustration. He needed more useful information, and he needed it fast. He thought about the murder. It had received extensive press coverage with it being pride week and, even more critically, with a gay victim! The media and the gay community were already screaming bias crime. It was clear the murderer had picked up his victim at a gay club. Now many, without any foundation, were insisting that the killer had to have been a straight man that had merely “posed” as gay to lure in his target. Worse yet, someone in the department, or more likely the mayor’s office, had leaked the suspect’s description to members of New York’s overheated press. Always ready to stir the pot to increase their circulation in an ever-diminishing market of print readers, the media had jumped in with both feet. The press’s headlines quickly dubbed him the choirboy killer. “That is just what this sicko needs, a freaking name that will stroke his ego,” the good-looking detective grumbled to himself.
“Damn,” he sighed as he shifted his toned and muscled body in his chair. At thirty years of age, the muscular, six foot one inch law officer was the very opposite of the stereotypical detective. In the minds of the public, detectives were a bunch of sedentary and overfed middle-aged cops who dressed in suits while getting fat sitting at their desks reading reports. In John Q. Public’s eyes they all were merely waiting for their pensions to fill out sufficiently, then retire.
Vinnie glanced at the picture of his fiancé that sat on his cluttered desk, looking for comfort from the image of the perky, fair-haired girl whom he had recently proposed to. Terry and Vinnie had met while he was a student at the John Jay College of Criminal Justice in Manhattan. She was a first year schoolteacher at the local high school that was just up the street from the college. One day after his classes he had literally bumped into her as he raced to answer a call from his precinct. They had dated off and on, but things had gotten serious between them in the last year. Vincenzo, known as Vinnie to everyone but his mother on Staten Island, had finally asked Terry to marry him. He had done so prompted not only by his mother but also by the fact he had now entered his thirties. As his mother kept telling him, it was that time of life when a man ought to settle down and bring a flock of new Pasquales into the world. Terry, being a Lutheran of Swedish descent and also three years older than Mrs. Pasquale’s “beloved Vincenzo,” had not initially endeared herself to Vinnie’s traditionally minded Roman Catholic, Italian mother. Over time, however, Terry had been accepted not only into the vast clan Vinnie referred to jokingly as la mia famiglia but also by his mother. Her future mother-in-law had instantly warmed up to their engagement when Terry confessed that secretly she wanted at least four and possibly five children. So things now were comfortably set for him. If Terry never inspired a grand passion in Vinnie, at least, as he figured it, they got along well.
Vinnie looked at his notes then sighed in disgust. He reached across his cluttered desk to pick up his phone. Grimacing, he held the phone, dreading Terry’s reaction when he cancelled yet again another dinner at her apartment. Though Terry tried to understand Vinnie’s job and its time demands, recently her frustration levels seemed to have grown. Vinnie, who was now considered one of the best in the squad, increasingly found himself being assigned the department’s most complex or sensitive cases. Finally he heard Terry pick up the phone.
“Don’t tell me you have to work,” Terry said without waiting for Vinnie to say anything first. “Again, right?” She continued using a tone of voice that reflected a mixture of both annoyance and dissatisfaction.
“How did you know it was me?” Vinnie asked in a casual tone, hoping to deflect the coming storm for just a minute more. Vinnie hated these scenes that seemed to be happening more often between them as the scope of his job assignments grew. Even their times together were affected by this tension over his long hours. As for the effects on his love life, sex with Terry had always been perfunctory, rather uninspired, and usually without any real heat.
“Caller ID, Vinnie. What else and why else would you call if not to cancel…yet again?” she answered sharply.
“Look, honey, I’m stuck on this new case, and the press guys are on my ass or soon will be. Plus…” he heard the clicking sound on the phone line and the familiar dial tone coming from his receiver. Terry had not only cut him off in mid-sentence, but her reaction spoke volumes on how “understanding” she had become about his current job predicament. “Son of a…” Vinnie groaned as he picked up the official autopsy report, hoping to discover something he’d missed that might provide a lead. Like all reports, this one blandly recited the bare facts of the “opening” (as autopsies were sometimes called by jokers in the law community). Labeling them in this way had the effect of dehumanizing someone who had once been a living human being. It gave the detectives the emotional distance to effectively do their work and, more importantly, to do it objectively. Like all autopsy reports, it’s facts, while valuable, were simply laid out in a terse manner.
Victim is a well-nourished white male, approximately late twenties to early thirties. The body had has bruising in each of the wrist areas, probably as a result of being bound tightly such as to render the victim incapable of using the limbs of his upper body. The impression marks on the surface skin would at first indicate that it was another pair of hands that held the victim’s wrists, but the depth of the underlying tissue damage in those areas was is massive. Injuries of this nature indicates immense pressure which is not consistent with human hands since they are not capable of such directed, powerful, and sustained restraints.
The victim’s back has a large, irregular bruise across the upper shoulder area that points to his being thrust up against some flat surface. It is impossible to ascertain what said surface was at this time.
Tearing around the carotid artery in the neck makes it certain that the victim died of exsanguination. The crime scene, however, showed no blood other than some residue stains consisting of droplets. It is therefore probable that another place may have been the location of the homicide. As a final observation, it should be noted that the body was expertly drained of blood in a manner impossible to determine at the present time.
“Sick bastard,” Vinnie thought as the phone rang on his desk. He picked it up hoping it was Terry but instead he heard the voice of his supervising lieutenant.
“Vinnie, it just came in on the radio. There was another homicide using the same M.O. as our choirboy killer. This time we have two, possibly three, victims done at the same place,” his gruff voice barked.