Power in the Blood by Michael Lister

traffic, people stop talking. “I’ll get to you in a minute,” Mr. Stone said to me. Then looking back at Daniels, “Okay, drugs, what else?”
    “He was a faggot. He had AIDS. Of course you already knew that. There were traces of dried semen around the anal region. It is being processed at FDLE. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get something from it. Who knows?”
    “Pardon my ignorance, but who has unprotected sex with an inmate who has AIDS?” I said.
    “There are other inmates who have AIDS so they have nothing to lose, inmates who do not know because the other inmate has kept it secret, and then there are plenty of inmates who do not have unprotected sex.”
    “There are
condoms
on the compound?” I asked.
    “No, of course not,” Daniels sighed with impatience. “But many of the inmates use the latex gloves they wear when working in medical, food services, or caustic cleaning—and that’s with no lubrication.”
    “Ouch,” I said, giving Daniels the response he was looking for. He smiled.
    “Sounds like your FDLE crime lab is working overtime,” Mr. Stone said.
    “They’re good. Very good. Probably the best state lab in the country,” Daniels said proudly, not realizing that Stone seemed to be saying that the lab was working hard but Daniels was not.
    “How about you, Chaplain?” Stone asked. “Have you discovered anything useful?”
    “I have more,” Daniels said, playing it for all it was worth.
    “Let’s have it.”
    “The lab also found some unusual trace evidence—a PRIDE chemical, on his blues. It may very well give us an idea of where he was before he wound up in the trash heap. Which in turn may give us insight into who was responsible for him winding up in the trash heap.”
    “Thank you, Inspector. Now what did you learn around here today? All of this information seems to have come from the lab.”
    Daniels stopped smiling. “As I said earlier, your staff was not cooperative. Perhaps if you spoke to them.”
    “Perhaps I will. Chaplain, did you make any inquiries today?”
    “A few rather discrete ones.”
    “Discrete?” he asked in shock. “That little fiasco in confinement wasn’t very discrete.”
    “No, sir, it didn’t turn out that way, but it was intended to be discrete.”
    “The road that leads to the opposite of where your boss lives is paved with good intentions. Well, no matter. But, did you meet with resistance from the staff?”
    “No, sir, I can’t say that I did, but I only interviewed a few of them. I just tried not to do it like an interview.”
    “What about you being our prime witness? Can you tell us anything else about the actual stabbing yesterday?”
    “I really don’t think that I can add anything to what I’ve already said. In fact, the further I get away from it, the more difficulty I’m having remembering it.”
    “Should Shutt be looked into?” he asked.
    “Yes, sir. To eliminate him as a suspect if nothing else.”
    “Okay,” he said, and then he looked at Daniels again. “Have you ever heard the old saying, ‘You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar’?”
    “Sure, I’ve heard it,” he said.
    “Well, the chaplain here is your honey. He is well liked and respected, and he knows at least half of the staff pretty well. So, you are to work with him and not without him or you are not to work in this institution at all. Understand?”
    “Yeah, I understand,” Daniels said in a tone that said, I’
m not an idiot
.
    “Understand, Chaplain?” Stone said to me.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Good. Now both of you get out of here. And go find out what’s going on in my institution.”

Chapter 11
     
    Nights were the worst. The tin man alone in his tin house. Loneliness, fear, isolation, and guilt tormented me mercilessly. I couldn’t sleep. When I first got married, I found it rather difficult to sleep with another person in the bed. Every time she tossed, I turned. Every time she turned, I tossed. And the sounds that she made—the