“Well—yeah.” Gaia wasn’t sure how to answer that question. She thought about her mother … about the smell of her perfume and the sound of her voice when she hummed to the second movement of the Sibelius violin concerto. “Yes, we were close.”
“What was her name?”
“Katia.”
“What did she look like?” Catherine’s questions had an almost avid tone. “I’m sorry; I’ve just never met someone my own age who lost her mother.”
“She looked—” And how do I answer that question? Gaia wondered. The complexity of her mother’s face, the way she’d looked at her—how could she get that into the English language, especially when talking to a girl she’d known for less than forty-eight hours?
“She looked like me,” Gaia answered finally. And I’m sorry I brought this up. “But much, much prettier.”
“Anybody home?” came a sudden voice from outside the room. Whoever it was out there, he was rapping loudly on the door. “Catherine? Gaia?”
“Come in,” Gaia called out. Please, she thought, whoever you are, interrupt this conversation. I’ve made a mistake.
Kim Lau opened the door. He had changed clothes—again; he seemed to have an enormous wardrobe, and all his clothes were nice. Now he wore a bright red print shirt over loose-fitting khaki trousers and elaborate Puma running shoes.
“Ladies,” Kim said. “How goes it?”
“Hey, buddy,” Catherine said warmly. “Just decompressing. Come in.”
“Thanks,” Kim said. He strolled into the room, hands in pockets, his sneakers squeaking on the buffed linoleum. “Nice place you got here.”
“Are you kidding?” Catherine was laughing. The room was almost bare. Neither of them had even unpacked all the way.
“Yes.” Kim stared at her, beaming. Catherine laughed again. “Garrett and I already put up all our posters. Garrett’s my roommate—he’s from Los Angeles and thinks he’s a gangsta.”
“What posters does he have?” Gaia asked.
“Usher, Redman, and Jada Pinkett Smith,” Kim ticked off. He had collapsed into Catherine’s desk chair. “Hey, did you hear we lost two more trainees today?”
“What? No,” Catherine said. “What happened?”
“On two different teams. They couldn’t deal—they saw the photos and the corpse, and they freaked. Throwing up, tears, the works. So they’re out. Bishop handled it personally.”
“Wow,” Gaia said.
There’s no room for error, she thought. None at all.
“Listen, are you guys doing anything tonight?” Kim went on. Gaia and Catherine looked at each other.
“Beyond taking showers and falling into fatigue-induced comas? No,” Catherine said. “Why—what have you got?”
“Well, I thought we could, you know, unwind together. Go into town, have a drink … and talk about the case.”
“Oh, good idea,” Catherine said fervently. “I’d love to. Roomie?”
“Well, I’m not—” Much of a drinker, Gaia was about to say. But for some reason, she didn’t. She stalled instead. “Did you have something specific in mind, Kim?”
“Indeed I do.” Kim was pointing at her, smiling. He seemed very pleased with himself. “Someone at the shooting range told me about this place called Johnny Ray’s. It’s not hard to get to—closer than that steak place yesterday. And”—he grinned—“they have gay nights. Like, for example, tonight.”
“Gay—Wait, will everyone be gay?” Catherine wrinkled her nose as she sifted through the clothes in her closet. “That’s no fun.”
“No, I imagine only the small percentage you’d find in a backwater burg like this one.” Kim was swinging his arms. “Probably like ten percent, but that ten percent gets half-price pitchers and cheap mixed drinks. So I’ll be happy, and you’ll have some beautiful men to look at and never be able to touch. Come on, Gaia—let’s go. Get a sweater or something.”
“Well—”
The thing was, Gaia thought, she could use a drink. Her mind was filled with violent imagery: Nathan Hill’s exploded chest and, lurking behind it, the searing images of Jake Montone’s final moments on earth. And there was more on her mind: that burning shame she’d felt the day before, standing up from the cheaply carpeted floor of the steak house, releasing the “gunman’s” hands while the whole room applauded Will Taylor’s “Sherlock Holmes” moment. Yeah, she could use a drink. One of those rare occasions where Gaia Moore would actually imbibe alcohol.
“Here’s my bracelet!” Catherine was pawing through her own dresser drawer, apparently looking for her purse. She triumphantly held a silver bracelet aloft. As she’d said, it had a turquoise inlay—it was really quite pretty. “Oh, thank God. Gaia, I’m sorry about before—I just don’t know what I’d do if I lost this.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Gaia said, pulling a sweater out of her own dresser. “Lead on, Kim. Are we taking Catherine’s car?”
“That’s the plan,” Kim said as Catherine locked the dorm room door behind them. “Will’s meeting us out front.”
Gaia’s heart sank. Will’s meeting us?
Great. Gaia kept her face immobile and cursed herself for not finding this information out beforehand—before she’d agreed to come along. Now it was too late-she couldn’t back out. It wasn’t that Will was so bad, necessarily. It was just that she was in no mood for the verbal sparring that Will seemed to find so indispensable.
“Something wrong?” Kim asked her quietly as they galloped down the cinder block stairwell.
“No,” Gaia told him quickly. “Just preoccupied.”
“You don’t mind that I invited Will, do you?” Kim went on. He seemed concerned. “It just seemed like a—”
“No, that’s fine,” Gaia interrupted. She gave Kim a bright smile as they came through the glass doors and out into the cool evening air. “I’m glad he’s coming.”
And you don’t miss much.
Gaia was beginning to realize how difficult, if not impossible, it was to hide your thoughts from Kim. Advanced shrink degrees before he turned twenty, Gaia remembered.
“Well, hi there,” Will said, smiling. He was leaning casually on Catherine’s Altima. He had changed into an untucked white dress shirt, jeans, and black loafers. He almost looks like a guy you’d see in Greenwich Village, Gaia thought in surprise. Until he opens his mouth and that southern boy routine starts. “Are we all ready to saddle up?”
“I’m sitting in front,” Gaia told Catherine, quickly moving around the car.
“Hey, buddy,” Catherine greeted Will. “Did you hear it’s gay night where we’re going?”
“No prospects at all—I’ll have to dance with you, Catherine,” Will said, with a wide southern gentleman grin. “That won’t upset the clientele, will it, Kim?”
“The ‘clientele’?” Kim said, smiling as he opened the back car door. “No.”
The sky had darkened; the wind was blowing through the tops of the surrounding trees as Catherine started the engine. Gaia stared straight ahead, hearing Will climb into the backseat right behind her, his aftershave seeming to fill the car immediately. Will’s knees bumped into her seat, knocking her forward.
“Watch the knees,” Gaia said impatiently. But as she spoke, she could feel her face heating up and, no doubt, turning bright red—and she was glad that nobody could see her in the darkened car interior.
no reason newcomers
should put up
with this nonsense
YOU’RE BEING SCOPED
Slamming the back door of Catherine’s Altima, walking across the gravel parking area in front of Johnny Ray’s, Kim knew that the Quantico area wouldn’t exactly be a hotbed of activity for the gay community. There was no question that this was a “straight” bar. From the outside, it looked like a roadhouse. A buzzing neon sign advertised Coors Light in one window. A bored-looking young man wearing a sleeveless black T-shirt and a cowboy hat stood by the door. The circumference of his upper arms and his lack of
neck suggested he was a bouncer, but God help the poor soul who actually got into a fight—the guy was practically asleep. It was fully dark now: looking up, Kim could barely make out the stars between the heavy electrical cables that stretched across the parking lot. Loud country-and-western music played from within the bar; through the bright yellow windows, Kim could see a blurred, shadowy view of a crowd moving around. In the background, behind the music, Kim could hear the wind rustling in the nearby trees and crickets conducting their nocturnal symphony.
As soon as Kim pushed open the heavy, leather-covered door, he was struck by a wall of sound. The smell of beer was overpowering. A jukebox was playing “Stand by Your Man”—with a smile, Kim recognized the Dixie Chicks cover. The western theme was continued in the clothes. Beyond the wide floor, dotted with round wooden tables, a dance floor with a glittering witch’s ball overhead was filled with a dozen or so pretty boys in cowboy hats dancing to the song, the capped sleeves of their sequined shirts showing off their thick upper arms. All the boys were smiling, clearly having a great time.
“Definitely gay night.” Kim leaned to tell Catherine. He had to speak loudly to be heard over the deafening music.
“All those boys are gay?” Catherine pouted comically. “What a tragedy.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, the first round’s on me,” Will said grandly, gesturing them toward the bar.
Two couples were just vacating their bar stools. Catherine and Will dashed over and claimed them. Will pulled out a bar stool for Gaia, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“That’s really not necessary,” Gaia told him, speaking loudly over the music.
“Then I’ll take it. Thank you, sir,” Catherine said, sliding between them and taking the stool Will had pulled out.
“Evening,” a young woman called out to them as a surge in the crowd pressed her against them. She was shorter than Catherine but slender, with rough, tanned skin, wearing a blue denim shirt and a waitress’s apron. Her honey brown hair was pulled back from her pretty face. “Sorry—I can’t move. You new in town?”
“Yes, ma’am—we just got two days ago,” Will said. Kim noticed that Will actually made a token gesture toward his forehead, as if tipping a cowboy hat. “Nice place you have here.”
“Well, thank you!” The waitress stuck out her hand. “Name’s Kelly—welcome to Johnny Ray’s.”
“Thanks,” Kim said. He had to lean toward Kelly’s ear to be heard. “This is great—I had no idea there were so many gay men in this town.”
Kelly squinted. “Are you kidding? Buddy, they ship in from all the neighboring towns, all over Prince William County, every Tuesday night like clockwork. We make more money on these nights than the rest of the week combined—and the pretty boys know how to tip.”
They all laughed loudly to be heard over the crowd. The music had changed to “Achy Breaky Heart” as the glitzy cowboys broke into a line dance. Kim was discovering a newfound affinity for Wrangler jeans.
“Whoops! There’s my order,” Kelly yelped, darting away. “Nice to meet you all!”
They waved as Kelly rushed off. The room had gotten even louder, Kim noticed, and more crowded as they all sat there. “I’m counting on you ladies to defend my honor,” he joked.
Kim turned to Catherine. “Hey, you’re being scoped.” The crowd was pressing against their backs, and glancing that way, Kim saw that many of the men in the bar—the ones at the enormous, wheel-like wooden tables—were staring at Gaia and Catherine. He also noted that a couple of the men were giving him openly hostile looks.
Divided, Kim realized. The room’s divided. The gay guys are dancing, and the straight couples aren’t.
“Evening.” A rough male voice came from behind the bar. “Get you something?”
Kim and the others looked over. A fortyish-looking man with close-cropped black hair and a dull, sullen expression was leaning on the bar right in front of them. He wore a leather vest over a T-shirt and was unshaven. His eyes were bloodshot, Kim noticed, and there was a trace of scotch on his breath.
“First round’s on me,” Will said, leaning forward. “As advertised. Should we just get a pitcher? Gaia? Catherine?”
“Sure,” Catherine said. After a moment Gaia nodded.
“And how about you?” The bartender had fixed his eyes on Kim. He was chewing a toothpick methodically. “Something a bit more ladylike? Or maybe just a saki?”
Here we go, Kim thought resignedly. After more than ten years of such remarks, he wasn’t even surprised. “Saki’s Japanese,” he told the bartender, meeting his eyes. “My family’s from Jiangsu.”
“Well, pardon me,” the bartender said, smiling in mock deference.
“I’ll just take a glass, thanks,” Kim said, smiling calmly. There was a pause while the two men looked at each other.
“Hey, friend—did you not get that order?” Will said, leaning forward and squinting. “A pitcher of draft and four glasses.”
The bartender swiveled his gaze over at Will and then rolled his eyes. “Coming right up, friend,” he said, moving away.
“Do you get that a lot?” Catherine asked. She was munching a handful of peanuts from a dish on the bar.
“Less than you think,” Kim said easily. He really didn’t want to dwell on it.
“Here you go, ladies,” the bartender told Kim, loudly clanking a full pitcher of beer on the bar in front of them. He gazed dully at Will as he dropped a stack of four glasses on the bar. “Anything else?”
“Hey!” A female voice came from behind them. Looking over, Kim saw that it was Kelly, the waitress. “What’s the trouble here?”
“No trouble at all, Kelly,” the bartender said. He was still chewing the toothpick. There was something very unsettling about his dull gray eyes. “Just serving drinks.”
“That better be all, Jack.” Kelly glared across the bar. “I’ve had just about enough of your nonsense for one night.”
“Listen, let me ask you something,” Kim said, leaning forward. His tone was completely pleasant. “If you don’t like Asians, that’s your business; I understand. But if you don’t like gay guys, why the hell do you have a weekly gay night at your own bar?”
Gaia and the others were looking at Kim, wide-eyed.
“Because it’s not his bar,” Kelly said, her eyes flashing. “It’s mine.”
Kim and the others stared at her, surprised.
“I’m Kelly Ray,” the pretty waitress went on, “and Johnny Ray was my dad. Passed the place on to me fair and square when he died. And I started gay night ‘cause like I told you, I make more money with this routine than the rest of the week put together. And if you don’t like it, Jack”—Kelly gazed at the bartender with eyes as hard as flints—“you can quit anytime you like. There are plenty of bartenders in Quantico last time I checked.”
A few nearby patrons had glanced over, sensing that something was happening. Most of the people in the room hadn’t noticed a thing—the roar of laughter and conversation went on uninterrupted.
“And if you stuck to waitressing like the other girls,” Jack said quietly, not meeting Kelly’s eyes, “and left the business affairs to the boys, we’d all be in better shape.”
Kelly was holding her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “This close, Jack,” she said levelly. “You’re this close. Don’t try me ‘cause you’ll lose.”
Jack looked back at Kelly and then turned quickly away, busying himself at the back bar.
“Let me get you a table,” Kelly told them, her hands on Kim and Catherine’s shoulders. “I’ll make sure your drinks get sent over. No reason newcomers should put up with this nonsense. Grace!” she yelled out across the bar at someone they couldn’t see. “Clear that four top right now! Come with me, folks.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Will said as they stood up, doing his quaint hat-tip gesture again. And glancing back at the bar, Kim noticed Jack staring at him.
Kim stared right back. “Enjoyed meeting y
ou,” he said without a trace of humor.
TWO YOUNG HOTTIES
“Okay,” Catherine yelled across the table. She was getting used to the loudness of the bar—it wasn’t a bad place to have a conversation if you didn’t mind having to raise your voice. They were on their second pitcher; the first one stood there with just a trace of suds along its bottom and sides. “Let’s go through the pockets again.”
“Padlock,” Kim announced with a flourish, pouring more drinks for the others. He was obviously having a good time.
“Not a padlock, my friend,” Will said, taking his drink as Kim finished pouring it. He took a sip and wiped the foam from his upper lip. “Combination lock.”
Kim waved a hand impatiently. “Fine, combination lock—but it was closed. So what’s it mean?”
“School locker,” Catherine said.
“No,” Gaia said, sipping beer. “Then it would be on the locker, not in his pocket.”
“Fine. So what’s your theory?”
Gaia smiled. “Bicycle chain.”
The others looked at each other, nodding. “Okay,” Catherine said. “Score one for you. If there’s a bicycle; we can check.” Catherine had a very nice buzz on from the beer—she felt pleasantly light-headed and very comfortable in her surroundings. “Next: pill bottle.”
“Ampicillin,” Will said. “It’s a low-grade antibiotic, by prescription only.”
“How do you know that?” Kim demanded.
“I looked it up on the Web when we got back,” Will said. “While you were busy changing into your fancy threads. What we don’t know is why he was taking it. It could be anything: an infected wisdom tooth, strep throat.”
“We’ll need to get his medical records,” Kim pointed out.
“Next: Wario Land 4,” Gaia said, in bewilderment. “Anyone know games?”
“I do,” Catherine said, raising her hand. “I’m the geek; you all need to remember that.”
“And?” Will raised his eyebrows pleasantly.
The place hadn’t quieted down at all—their ears would be ringing in the morning, Catherine realized. She happened to look over at the door right then and saw a small crowd of men arrive all together. They were all in their thirties, and they all had severe brush cuts. As she watched, they made their way over to the bar and loudly greeted and cheered Jack the bartender, yelling and grunting as they clasped his hands and reached over the bar to slap him on the back.
Kill Game Page 11
