Chapter 2

Hollywood Hal, formerly known as Hal Hardon, had been a star in bisexual porn movies before too many drugs and too much alcohol had rendered him incapable of an erection. It had been a heady career until it came crashing down around him. There just wasn’t much use for a porn star who couldn’t get it up. Now he was just another homeless man hoping to make it through another day alive.

Mornings were always the worst time of day for him. He tried to remember when he had last woken without a hangover from the cheap wine that put him to sleep at night. He couldn’t remember. Like every other morning, he swore that he wouldn’t have another drink that day. Even as he swore it, he thought, ‘Just one to take the edge off this headache.’

His one true friend, Coke Can, watched him stagger over to the coffee stand. Coke Can was digging through the trash to locate a can in which to deposit the spittle from his chewing tobacco. Texas Jack wouldn’t let him spit on the ground so he was forced to carry around the Coke can that had given him his street name. When Hollywood stumbled, he said, “Hollywood, get yourself some coffee before you hurt yourself.”

Hollywood grabbed one of the foam cups and filled it with coffee from the large fifty cup urn that was always full of coffee. He took a sip of the coffee and spat it out on the ground. In a voice that carried across the parking lot, he shouted, “That tastes like shit.”

Coke Can went over the coffee urn and filled a foam cup with the piping hot beverage. He took a huge gulp from the cup and shook his head in reaction to the vile taste. It had to be pretty bad to stimulate taste buds numbed by years of chewing tobacco. He lived long enough to say, “This tastes like...”

Hollywood Hal watched his friend drop to the ground. The world floated in front of his eyes and then he fell to the ground next to his friend. Convulsions took over his body, but they only lasted a minute before he too was still.

It was a few minutes later when Mad Dog wandered over to the coffee urn and found the two bodies. He stared at the sight for half a minute before the truth of the situation dawned on him. He called out, “Hollywood Hal and Coke Can are dead!” When it looked like no one had responded, he shouted, “Hollywood Hal and Coke Can are dead!”

Some of the other homeless drifted over to check out the sight. Death was not an infrequent visitor to the Homeless Hotels. Folks died all the time of alcohol poisoning, disease, and violence. There was something different and wrong about these two bodies. The general level of excitement began to grow.

The general noise finally woke Chuck Wagon. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he climbed out his bed and wandered over. He froze when he saw the bodies. He looked around the crowd and asked, “Where’s Texas Jack?”

The homeless gathered in the area looked around for Texas Jack. It was odd that he wasn’t there. Texas Jack almost never left the Homeless Hotel without putting Chuck Wagon in charge. One of the men said, “I don’t know. He should be around here somewhere.”

“Would someone find him?”

The men spread out to search for the man. After a few minutes, one of the homeless called out from the small storage shack, “I found Texas Jack. He’s been killed!”

Hanging his head down and closing his eyes, Chuck Wagon swore, “Damn.”

Afraid that he was liable to be blamed because he was the first one to find the bodies, Mad Dog asked, “What are we supposed to do?”

“I better call 911,” Chuck Wagon answered. All of a sudden his training time had ended and he was in charge of the Homeless Hotel. It was time for him to take charge and control the situation.

He went over to the storage shack and entered it. Texas Jack was on the ground with a garrote around his neck. The silver of the wire glinted through the blood that had pooled in the wound. Someone had strangled him. Despite the fact that Texas Jack was his best friend, he controlled his emotions. Bending over the body, he fished through the pockets until he found the small cell phone that Texas Jack always carried with him. He made the call to 911 and pocketed the phone.

In the distance the sounds of sirens rose into the air. He wondered if it was in response to his call. If it was, then this was a far faster response than Chuck Wagon expected. Most times, a death in a Homeless Hotel was handled in a more leisurely fashion. The cops weren’t all that concerned with the homeless.

He looked around at the faces of the men and women looking to him for guidance. A murder, possibly three, was big news. Chuck Wagon glanced in the direction of the coffee pot and wished he had a cup. He’d get over to it once he got the situation under control. In a gruff voice, he said, “Everyone out of the shack. I’ve got to close it up until the cops arrive.”

One of the other homeless men poured himself a cup of coffee from the urn and took a sip. He fell to the ground in convulsions and died. As one, the homeless backed away shouting, “The coffee is poisoned!”

A wave of real fear swept through the crowd. They understood natural deaths and violent deaths, but this kind of thing was beyond their experience. Someone was trying to kill them.

“Damn,” Chuck Wagon swore. He’d heard of trial by fire, but this was ridiculous. He wished that Texas Jack was here to handle the situation. He shouted, “Everyone get over to the fire pit and don’t touch anything around here. The cops are on the way.”

A few of the homeless who had reasons of their own for not being there when the police arrived scurried off. The rest drifted over to the fire pit and stood around fidgeting uncomfortably. Chuck Wagon looked around and tried to see if there were any others who were missing. It looked to him like everyone was there. He wondered which of the men had killed his friend.

A police car came rolling into the homeless hotel with lights flashing and sirens blaring. The homeless, unable to keep from the new source of excitement, crowded around the police car. The siren cut off bringing a temporary level of silence that almost deafening. It only served to excite the men even more.

When one of the cops got out, all of the homeless began talking at once. Amidst lots of excited talking and pointing in the direction of the bodies, the officer began to get an idea of what had happened. It was clear that three people were dead and at least one of them had been murdered. He leaned into the car and asked his partner for backup.

Realizing that the cops couldn’t do their jobs amongst the chaos, Chuck Wagon shouted, “Everyone get back over to the fire pit and let the cops do their jobs!”

When the homeless backed off, one of the cops recognized Chuck Wagon and went over to him. Looking around, he asked, “Where’s Texas Jack?”

“Texas Jack is dead, John.” Chuck Wagon was pleased that the first cops on the scene were a pair that he knew. At least they knew most of the homeless who hung around the homeless hotel and wouldn’t mistreat them.

The cop frowned at the news and repeated, “Texas Jack is dead?”

“Yes,” said the homeless man. The reality of the situation was slowly sinking in and he was starting to have difficulty handling his grief. Texas Jack had picked him up out of the gutter and gotten him off the rotgut. After a short stint riding around with Happy Harry, he’d come back to help Texas Jack run the Homeless hotel. He’d been dry for almost a year and was beginning to look forward to running a Homeless Hotel of his own. He wasn’t happy to have the responsibility placed on him in this fashion.

“Damn, I liked him. He was a real nice fellow. I guess that puts you in charge now.”

“I guess so.”

John’s partner was on the radio calling in the situation to the dispatcher. She’d gotten enough of the story from the other homeless to know that at least four were dead and that the coffee was poisoned. It was clear from the reaction of the dispatcher that something big was going on.

Focusing on Chuck Wagon, John said, “Tell me what you know.”

“Mad Dog discovered Hollywood Hal and Coke Can dead over by the coffee pot. I came over and asked if anyone had seen Texas Jack. One of our guys discovered him in the storage shed. Someone had strangled him. The coffee pot is poisoned and another one of our men drank some coffee and promptly died. That’s when we realized that it was poisoned,” Chuck Wagon said. He shook his head and said, “Someone is trying to kill us. I don’t understand it. Why would someone try to kill us? We’re basically harmless.”

John shook his head and thought about the briefing that morning. He’d learned that there were a half dozen Druids here to investigate the mysterious deaths of a number of homeless men. He’d heard that a Druid had been killed. John said, “I don’t know. Something bad is going down.”

Pat, John’s partner, came over to the two men and said, “This is big. The Chief is coming here to take charge. Druids are on their way over, too.”

“Good. Let’s just keep order until they get here,” John said as his stomach twisted at the idea of Druids showing up. He turned to look at his blond haired, blued eyed partner to see how she was handling the situation. She was staring at the three bodies on the ground near the coffee urn and shaking her head. She’d have been a real beauty if she hadn’t had a broken nose that healed crooked.

“Hal Hardon. I watched some of his films,” said the woman recognizing Hollywood Hal. She shook her head and said, “Hard to believe he ended up this way.”

John looked over at his partner and wondered what she was doing that would involve watching a bisexual porno film. He knew her husband and couldn’t believe that the man was into films like that. He shook his head to clear out the thoughts that came to mind. He said, “He’s not the first in that industry to end up like this.”

“Yeah,” she replied. Shaking her head at the scene around her, she said, “I was sorry to hear that Texas Jack was killed. I really liked the guy. I guess that puts you in charge, Chuck Wagon.”

“Yes it does,” he answered. He wondered how many times he would hear that before the day was over. He couldn’t wait for the Druids to arrive and take control over the situation.

“Happy Harry is coming!”

The shout from over by the fire pit caught the threesome’s attention. They turned as one to watch the Roach Coach lumber into the Homeless Hotel. Chuck Wagon said, “Thank the Gods and Goddesses that Harry’s here.”

Harry stepped out of the Roach Coach and looked around with a frown. He was not happy to have learned that more of his people had been killed. His frown didn’t have a chance to fully develop. Shots rang out from across the street and he scrambled to put the Roach Coach between him and the source of the shots. Three other Druids swarmed out of the Roach Coach and joined him.

The rest of the Homeless Hotel exploded into a mass of confusion. The homeless men and women scattered to the four winds. They might have been homeless, but they weren’t fools enough to stand around while someone was firing a gun in their direction. The two cops ran behind their car with pistols drawn trying to find where the shots were coming from. Chuck Wagon followed them and hid behind the car.

In the sudden quiet that descended on the area, Ed’s voice rang out, “Kelly, Harry’s been shot again.”

Hiding behind the police car, Chuck Wagon thought he was going to throw up. First Texas Jack had been killed and now Happy Harry had been shot. He didn’t think the day could get any worse. Losing two of the most important people in his life tore at his heart strings. He wept even as more sirens sounded in the distance.