“At first it looks like he was just somebody in the wrong place at the wrong time. Except I’m not sure he was.”
“How so?” Anton perked up. He likes a good mystery almost as much as I do.
“I kind of noticed there wasn’t anyone listed by name in Brad’s appointment book for last night or today… other than me.”
“Kind of… you mean you snooped.”
“My job. There were no names but there were initials listed for last night.”
“Maybe this guy,” Anton indicated the picture, “needed anonymity.”
“Could be. Brad usually listed full names but he was known for his discretion.” I began to wonder if there were others Brad left off his lists.
“The guy might’ve been a walk in or a last minute and Brad didn’t have time to note a full name,” Anton offered.
“Brad could have expected this guy for a reason he didn’t note. Or didn’t want to note. Of course, the initials could belong to other people entirely.”
“True. You didn’t find anything else at the spa?”
“There were two sets of initials in the appointment book.”
“Two? But…”
“Maybe one set is the dead guy. The other set must be someone else Brad expected. Could’a been a no-show or maybe he did show and he’s the one.”
“The one what?” Anton scrunched up his nose giving his square-jawed face a boyish, confused look.
“The one who did it. The killer.”
“How do you figure?”
“Brad might’ve expected two people. Let’s say they both show up. Later, Brad and one of them is dead. The other one is gone.”
“That could mean a lot of things.” Anton said.
“Right. One possibility is that the second set of initials belongs to the killer. Things went sour on Friday night. He kills Brad and the other guy,” I said.
“Or the second person got lucky and arrived after the murders, or left before the killing took place. Either way, he missed getting killed.” Anton enjoyed spinning theories.
“Of course, the possibly missing guy might’ve known the killer and helped set it all up,” I said. “There are a lot of possibilities. The identity of the dead client might help, especially if one set of initials belongs to him.”
“How’re you going to do that? The police won’t be helpful.”
“I may have an inside source.” I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively. “Giuliani put a new detective on the case. Really new. Young, and like they say, wet behind the ears.”
“You’re too transparent, Marco. You want more than police work out of the new detective. Your tone’s a dead giveaway.”
“Me? How can you say that?” I smiled. “I need to get this newbie on my side. He can help big time. He seems nice, even if he’s playing tough and distant. He’ll let some information fall my way if I play my cards right. Even if he believes what Giuliani tells him about me.”
“You have other contacts on the force, don’t you?”
“Sure, but this guy, Shim, is the lead detective on Brad’s case. It’s gold. Like I said, I think he’ll play ball.”
“Yeah. I know the kind of ball you intend to play,” Anton smirked but there was a note of disappointment in his voice.
“I noticed you were pretty cozy with a certain dancer we both know.”
Anton didn’t answer. He blushed and shook his head slowly.
“Jean-Claude has been coming on to me and I’m not sure how to handle it. I don’t wanna alienate him. He’s sweet and kind of lost. Y’know?”
“Seems to know his way around pretty well,” I said a bit too hastily.
“He doesn’t,” Anton countered. “Not really. This is a new town and he’ll be starting school... He’s not as confident as he looks. I sort of like helping him and… I don’t know… he kind of needs me. I like that.”
“Anton…” I was at a loss. I’d never pushed Anton away. In fact we’d been cozy together, if you don’t count the no-sex-allowed thing. Truthfully, though, I’d never given Anton much reason to believe I’d ever settle down. I suppose I never made him feel like I needed him either. Yet… I felt I was about to lose something important. Someone I truly did need. Except, I didn’t know what to say or do. Didn’t even think I had a right to say anything.
“We’ve both got a lot on our plates,” Anton said after clearing his throat. “We can talk about this some other time.”
I said nothing and let the moment pass. I knew I’d missed an opportunity to tell Anton how much he meant to me. But I felt relieved putting off “the talk.” Maybe because I didn’t know what I wanted to say. Still, I couldn’t give up on Anton.
“We could have dinner, just the two of us and forget everything else for a while. As if the world doesn’t exist.” I felt like an adolescent, feeling my way for the right thing to do.
“Not tonight, Marco. It’s Amateur finals and I’ve got a lot to do. I’ll understand if you don’t feel like being there…”
“I’ll be there. I won’t let you down.”
***
I left Anton sitting at the café. He wanted time to himself before setting things up at Bubbles. Anton was the best and I was lucky he was so committed to StripGuyz. But I’d dropped the ball on a personal level and I wouldn’t stop kicking myself over that.
Glancing back at the café from a short distance away, I watched him sitting alone. The warm, yellow café lighting washed over Anton and held him in a golden bubble. Tough and strong as he looked, there was something sad about the way he picked up his coffee cup and brought it to his lips. He sipped and stared into space, seeming lost and forlorn. A wave of longing hit me unexpectedly. I almost turned back and swept him up and out of the place. Almost. Something stopped me and I didn’t fight it. Instead I walked away and felt as if I were turning a corner against my will.
Twelfth Street led me to Walnut where I walked west nearly without thinking about it. Up ahead I spied lights and movement. Even before reaching the building, I saw the huge “Kelley for Senate” sign. Bright lights spilled over the frontage and filled the interior. People carrying signs, folders, and leaflets streamed in and out. The buzz of activity on a Saturday was a sure sign the primary was close. Kelley’s campaign was in high gear. It made sense to campaign heavily in Philly. Pull in enough votes here and in the burbs and you had the best chance of winning almost any statewide election.
Shuster’s earlier tantrum came to mind. I wondered if he’d be hanging out in the headquarters. I wanted him to know I wasn’t through with him. Sometimes I can be a pain in the ass but only when it’s necessary to get at the truth. Besides, Shuster’s attitude rubbed me the wrong way. I decided to annoy him into talking with me.
I pushed open the plate glass door and entered a world of throw-away desks, phone banks, tables piled high with flyers, and committed workers intensely engaged in firing up the base. A humongous poster of the dweebish Kelley hung suspended from the ceiling.
“May I help you?” said a short, balding man wearing a plaid vest sweater and huge owl-eyed glasses.
“Looking for Mr. Shuster. He around?”
“Mr. Shuster’s not here. He and Mr. Kelley are at a townhall meeting somewhere in the suburbs. I can give him a message for you.” The little man glanced here and there presumably looking for paper and a pen.
“Yeah, why don’t you? Let me write him a note.”
He found some paper, then reluctantly took a silver pen from his shirt pocket and handed it to me as if he’d never see it again.
I wrote Shuster a note and told him I’d be at Bubbles later, if he wanted to talk. I was sure he would.
Chapter 9
It wasn’t yet dusk when I returned to my building, puffy clouds lit by the setting sun looked unreal. As I entered the lobby, I realized I’d been on the run since I’d left that morning for my massage. At the thought, everything tumbled back into consciousness. Tremors of shock rippled through me with each memory.
; Brad was gone. We were left with a bunch of questions. He’d obviously gotten mixed up in something none of us knew anything about. Something way over his head.
“Hey! Mr. Fontana! How ya doin’? You look like ten days rain.” Clem, the shortest and most energetic of the front desk security always noted my comings and goings because he loved hearing about cases. Some days, it was a good way for me to decompress. But not today.
“Tough day, Clem. You know how it is sometimes.” I gave him a shrug and a wave and kept moving toward the elevators. He was probably disappointed.
Thankfully the elevator was empty and I got to ride in silence to my digs near the top of the building.
Once in my apartment, I stepped onto the balcony to watch the city wink into twilight life far below. The slowly darkening sky painted the landscape with an interesting mix of light and shadow. I stood and stared. It was always a breathtaking sight and usually soothing, but two fewer people walked those streets now and I wanted to know why.
There was no use checking my landline voicemail. It’d be filled with messages from friends asking about Brad. The voicemail would be there after I got back from Bubbles.
I needed time to myself, to clear my head so I could do what needed to be done. I needed a shower. For me, relaxing meant a hot shower. Stripping off my clothes, I padded into the bathroom. The shower stall was a sleek, glass-tiled refuge. I turned the valve. The water bucked and hissed, then rained down full force. When the room steamed up, I slid open the glass door and stepped inside. Hot water cascaded over my body. Tension melted. Problems got lost in the steam. The heat reached deep into my muscles and the ping of the water spray tingled on my skin.
When I stepped out, all I wanted was a beer and a movie. But I had no intention of disappointing Anton. I’d done more than enough of that. Wrapped in a towel I walked to the kitchen to get some food.
After nuking a plate of leftover pasta, I grabbed a Molson’s and sat on the couch. Flipping on the TV, I channel surfed to some innocuous wildlife show. Of course, as soon as I’d placed a forkful of linguine and clams to my mouth, the phone rang.
“Fontana,” I said around a mouthful of pasta.
“Mr. Fontana. Detective Shim.” His voice was softer over the phone. “Got a minute?”
“Sure, Detective. What can I do for you?”
“I’m gonna have to search Brad’s home. I was wondering if you’d like to tag along?”
“You’re not afraid of Emily are you? She won’t bite. She’s actually pretty sweet.”
He probably figured I could smooth the way for him, considering Emily’s attitude. Of course, I wouldn’t mind a second crack at what I might’ve missed at Brad’s place, so it was win-win.
“Yeah. It was sweet the way she said she didn’t trust cops. That look she gave me… Could’a split logs.” Shim chuckled. “I’m keeping you in the loop. Like you asked. I thought this would be a good opportunity to talk about the case.”
We arranged to meet Monday morning. Shim would notify Emily.
No sooner had I placed the receiver in its cradle than the phone rang again.
“Fontana.” I looked wistfully at the shivering linguine.
“Boss is not taking nap with cats? I am expecting voicemail, not real boss,” Olga said. “I am having informations for you.”
“You found something on Gibson?” I’d given her Gibson’s name, the dates he and Brad lived together, and their old address. Which is all Emily remembered.
“Searching is finished on Gibson and others.”
“The others can wait. What’ve you got on Gibson?”
“Is what I am not having.” She sounded cryptic but also disappointed.
“Maybe I didn’t hear you right, Olga. Do you have something on Gibson?”
“Ničevó. I am having nothing,” she said. “Gibson is… what you are calling people who no one is seeing?”
“A ghost?”
“Da. Gibson is ghost. One minute is here, next minute poof! He is ghost.”
“So you’ve got nothing?”
“No more than boss already is knowing.”
“Email me whatever you’ve got. You never know.”
“I am e-mailing now. Olga is pressing button and you are having the informations.”
“Thank you, gorgeous. Remind me to buy you lunch.”
“I am not needing lunch,” she said. “You are wanting details on other names you order me to search?”
“Order you…? Olga… I’m your boss not the Czar.”
“Boss. Czar. Is same thing. Both give orders. Both want things yesterday. So, are you wanting…?”
“Sure, email all of it to me.” Maybe she had better luck locating a couple of Brad’s more elusive clients.
“Is done,” Olga said and hung up the phone.
Still in my towel, I walked to the computer. Olga’s e-mails popped up. She’d managed to narrow the search to one Max Gibson who’d lived in Philadelphia and worked for the City during the time he and Brad were supposed to have been together. The Gibson Olga had uncovered fell off the face of the planet around the time Emily said he and Brad had broken up. Maybe he’d changed his name or started living off the grid.
Olga had gone as far as she could with it. Now I’d have to depend on what I liked to call my Geek of Last Resort: Nina a successful programmer and web designer. She also, and only for a select clientele, namely me, did some hacking. I counted on her and paid her well. I’d pay her a visit in the morning. For now, Anton was depending on me to help with Amateur Night.
***
Heading over to Bubbles, I felt a small rush of excitement. People bustled along the sidewalk, laughter floated on the air, and problems seemed miles away. The city looked particularly good. Could’ve been the new lights splashing the façades of Broad Street’s buildings. Could’ve been the great weather. Or, maybe I was just glad to be thinking about something other than murder even if it was only for a few hours.
The closer I got to the bar, the more faces I recognized. Regular patrons, wannabe strippers, hangers on. A gaggle of street kids acted out their latest weird antics, yowling and shouting rude comments loud enough to be heard a block over. Smokers huddled together outside each bar practicing their vice, managing to look defiant and guilty at the same time.
Bubbles was packed, as usual on Amateur Night. Nothing like seeing new flesh on display for the first time. I was jostled a few times as I wedged my way through the crowd. The music pounded and thumped and my eardrums vibrated. Guaranteed to quash any serious thoughts lurking in my mind.
“Marco! A lotta new hotties tonight?” Someone shouted from within a tight knot of men off to the side.
“You’ll see,” I called back. “You realize… I keep the best ones for myself, right?”
I made it to the stairs mostly intact and unfazed. I started up and the music faded out behind me to a dull buzz. A few guys stood in silhouette against the second floor lights. Lithe dancers with perfect forms and graceful poses, nervously shuffling like high strung thoroughbreds waiting for a race to begin.
“Hey, Marco,” Jamir said. His nut brown body glistened with a light sheen of sweat. “Got a lot of hopefuls waitin’ for you.”
“Thanks, Jamir. How come you’re sweating? You haven’t even started dancing.”
“Who says I ain’t been dancin’?” He gave me a come hither look.
“You’ve got fans waiting downstairs. It’s gonna be a long night, Jamir.” I smiled. “Did you see Anton anywhere?”
“He’s everywhere,” said Cal coming up from behind us. “You know how Anton is. Gorgeous and in charge. I wish I looked even a little like him.”
“Cal, you’re gorgeous all on your own,” I said, tossing him the compliment he’d been fishing for. “You always attract a crowd. The show wouldn’t be the same without you.” Fluffing egos was part of the job and these boys had plenty of ego to work with.
I figured Anton would be in the office, and when I opened the door, h
e was hunched over a dancer whose face I couldn’t see. Whoever it was sat in my chair as Anton apparently worked on his face.
“What’s going on?”
Anton looked up quickly. “Marco. Just taking care of something. Hold on.”
“I see that. What’re you…”
Anton stepped aside and I saw Ty, slender and pale, with curly golden blond hair, and a ripening black eye marring his delicately beautiful face.
“What the hell happened to you?” I said. In the same instant I knew. Ty’s boyfriend occasionally used him as a punching bag. “Don’t tell me. I already know.” I moved to his side and saw that his eye was swollen shut. “Why do you put up with this, Ty? We can keep you safe. Your boyfriend’s name is what…Eddie? We can handle the slimeball for you. You don’t have to go through this.”
“N-no. Eddie called and said he was sorry. He’s gonna meet me after the show tonight.”
“Ty, sweetie. You believed him? You actually believe he was sorry?” Anton said, his voice gentle and sad. “He’s made promises before and he’s never kept them. Right?”
“This time’ll be different. He promised. I’ll let you talk to him if he… I’ll let you talk to him, Marco. Okay? Just not this time.”
I’d never met Eddie and wasn’t sure I wanted to because if I did, I might make him swallow his teeth or worse. In fact, I decided, that might not be such a bad idea.
“Yeah, next time. Make that a promise,” I said. “Listen, Ty, are you hurt anywhere else? I could take you to the hospital.” I looked at the poor kid and winced at the pain he must’ve felt.
“No. Just my eye. It isn’t that bad. Just… I’ll be all right. Can I stay in here tonight? In the office…?”
“Sure. Take a break. You can’t go onstage tonight, Ty. You probably don’t feel like dancing anyway.”
“I kinda need the money, though.” His lower lip trembled and he looked forlorn.
“Don’t worry about money, Ty. I’ll pay you,” I said. “I’ll even throw in some extra for the tips you’ll miss. But you gotta promise me something…”
Body on Pine Page 9
