The Edge of Reason

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “And they believed this farrago?”

  “No, of course not.” Richard gripped his own wrists. “I had ligature marks, but they didn’t push. Why should they? They have a lot of cases, and what was one faggot getting hurt by some rough trade? But Danny wouldn’t let it go. He came and visited me almost every day, and tried to get me to tell him what really happened.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever talked to anyone about this?” Kenntnis asked. Richard shook his head. “And this man … he’s walking free?” Richard nodded.

  The heavy weight of the hand on his neck was removed. The big man knelt in front of him. The grip on Richard’s chin was inexorable as Kenntnis forced his head up until their eyes met.

  “Why are you protecting him?”

  It was the one question no one had ever asked, and the absolutely right question. Richard found himself answering.

  “Because he was … is … a very close friend of my father’s.” Richard ran a hand through his hair. Forced himself to continue. “And I worked for him. I was stupid. I asked for it.”

  “Really? You wanted to get raped and beaten? You trusted this man. He was a family friend. How does his crime reflect on you?” Kenntnis asked.

  “Because I’m unnatural,” Richard whispered. There was no response from Kenntnis, forcing him to elaborate. “I sleep with men as well as women. I crave sex,” he burst out, his cheeks flaming with shame and disgust.

  “Sex is a good thing, Richard; it’s a life force. We serve and defend life. And homosexuality is natural. It’s religion that’s made it evil.”

  “He was evil,” Richard choked out.

  “Yes, because he’s a sadist. Not because he found you desirable.” Kenntnis paused, then asked, “How did you come to work for this man?”

  “My father.”

  The silence hung between them. Kenntnis made a “go on” gesture. “More, please.”

  “I had finished my graduate work at the Conservatory in Rome, but I hadn’t been offered a contract. My father wasn’t willing to pay for any more college, so I came back to the States. I wanted to stay in New York, to be close to the musical scene. I worked at Macy’s and gave piano lessons, and went to auditions. But I was just drifting and I was twenty-three years old. Past time I took responsibility and amounted to something.”

  “I take it that’s a quote?”

  Richard held up a hand, forestalling any further remark by Kenntnis. “Please don’t say anything. He is my father.”

  “Which doesn’t mean you’re required to like him,” came the surprising answer. “You can honor him and respect him, maybe even love him, and still know he’s a bastard. But let’s stay on this other man. What does he do?”

  “He owns a boutique investment company.”

  Kenntnis shook his head. “Does your father know you at all?”

  Despite his tension, and the growing knot of fear that pressed hard beneath his breastbone, Richard found himself smiling faintly. “I know, it was ludicrous. I was Drew’s assistant, and he was very good to me even though I showed little aptitude. It didn’t take long for me to read the signals.”

  “So, you’d done this before?”

  “Yes.” Richard chose not to elaborate. He’d become sexually active at sixteen, and for an instant his mind filled with the faces of lovers—male and female. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to turn off the memories.

  “Go on,” Kenntnis ordered.

  And while not certain he wanted to, Richard found himself continuing. “I went to his bed. He was far more experienced than I was, and his tastes were—” He searched for the word. “Eclectic? Exotic? Sometimes he scared me, hurt me a little, but he always apologized, and was always so complimentary and admiring of me afterward. He gave me lovely things. He made me feel good about myself … special.” Kenntnis’s eyes flicked around the room. “No, I don’t have any of them anymore. Well, only one … as a … reminder.” Richard paused for a shuddering breath. A thin line of sweat crawled down his cheek. He brushed it away.

  “One night he invited me to dinner with a couple of ‘special’ clients. Men whose money he was hoping to manage. One was another American. The other Russian, I think, maybe Ukrainian, I don’t know for certain. Just that he was one of those gangster billionaires coming out of the new Russia. We ate. Drew insisted that I try the wine.” Richard raised his eyes to meet Kenntnis’s. “I don’t drink. Partly because of my mother, but partly because every time I drink I wake up in somebody’s bed, and mostly because of … this.”

  “Were you drunk?”

  Richard nodded. “Probably. I was certainly cheerful and pretty unsteady on my feet. Drew started to guide me toward the bedroom. That’s when I realized that I was dessert. I balked, pulled back. Drew dug his fingers into my arm, hanging onto me. Then we heard the dishes hitting the floor. The Russian had swept the table clean. He said … he said …” Richard started up out of the chair only to be pushed back down by Kenntnis. The man’s hands closed on his forearms.

  “No! No! Please, don’t!” Richard heard the shrill terror in his voice. Kenntnis’s hands sprang open. For such a large man he was quick and light on his feet. In an instant he was standing, pulling Richard up beside him. Kenntnis dropped an arm over Richard’s shoulders and walked him up and down the length of the room. Back and forth, never stopping.

  “I know from the EMT that your wrists and ankles were raw and torn. Was it rope or metal? How did they bind you?” Kenntnis’s tone was clinical and matter-of-fact.

  “C-c-cord.” The sweat rolling off his brow stung his eyes. Richard dashed a hand across them.

  “How did you get the bone breaks?” Kenntnis pressed.

  “When they started to strip me, I punched the American.” Richard looked down at his left hand, remembering the sharp snap as the bones had broken.

  “I take it you never learned to box,” Kenntnis said in that same matter-of-fact tone.

  Richard shook his head. “Not until the academy. I’m still not very good at hand-to-hand.” He fell silent.

  “That’s the hand. What about the rest?”

  “The Russian slugged me. Broke my jaw. I went down. They kicked me. I didn’t think I had any fight left … until they tied me on that table.”

  Richard quit walking. Stood shivering. The memories hung like an abstract painting—impressions but no details. He feared if he made them coherent they would tear him apart.

  Kenntnis gave Richard a gentle shake. “Finish it.”

  Suddenly it was all there. No longer the scattered images of nightmares, or memories he refused to face, or the panic that buried him like an avalanche whenever he felt confined or someone touched his lips. He remembered it all.

  The taste of blood from his badly bitten lips, the smell of sex and sweat, the taste of vomit, the pain from the cuts and burns, the blood trickling down his legs, and the screams.

  “Afterwards they washed up, and sat in the living room drinking and talking while I lay on that table.” His voice began to rise. Richard tried to pull it back down, but couldn’t. Kenntnis reached out, and again laid a large, warm hand on the nape of Richard’s neck. “They dumped me in an alley.” His voice reached crescendo and broke. “Like I was garbage.” The last words were scarcely audible.

  Kenntnis pulled him against his shoulder. The soft nape of cashmere caressed Richard’s cheek. There was the sharp rich scent of sandalwood. Everything combined to break his rigid control. The sob burst from him, a cry of grief and despair. Kenntnis made no sound, offered no platitudes. He simply held Richard and rocked him gently, as Richard wept as he had never wept since that night of terror, pain and betrayal. Eventually the paroxysms eased and finally Kenntnis spoke.

  “You were not stupid and you did not ask for it. Your father placed you in evil and untrustworthy hands. You trusted and cared for this man. He betrayed you. That is his shame, not yours.” Richard’s hair had
fallen forward over his forehead. Kenntnis brushed it back softly.

  Richard looked up to meet Kenntnis’s gaze, searching for any sign of disgust or contempt. He saw only affection and concern. “That’s what hurt the worst,” Richard said, and realized it was true. “I don’t think Drew expected either the level or type of violence. But he didn’t do anything to stop it, and eventually he joined in. Perhaps out of a desire not to offend his clients, or maybe he enjoyed it—maybe it was what he’d wanted all along. Hell, I don’t know.” Richard ran his hands across his hair. They came away damp from sweat.

  “But you protected him.”

  “No, I protected my father. While Drew untied me he reminded me how bad it would be if any of this came out. The other men were getting nervous. Drew told them that ‘shame was a great silencer.’”

  “And death’s an even better one,” Kenntnis said quietly. “Is that why you tried to commit suicide?”

  “There were a lot of reasons.”

  “And Danny kept your attempt quiet.”

  “Yes. He checked up on me even after I got out of the hospital. He found me that day.” Richard pulled back the sleeve of his sweater and studied the narrow white scar. “While he sewed me up he made me realize that dying let them win. He told me to face the monsters.”

  The corner of Kenntnis’s mouth quirked up in an impish half-smile. “Little did you know …”

  Suddenly Richard found himself chuckling. Kenntnis joined in, and then they were both whooping with laughter.

  “But why a policeman?” Kenntnis asked after they’d regained control. “Gratitude? Admiration for McGowan?”

  “That was probably some of it, but I wanted to protect people.” Richard glanced up shyly at Kenntnis. “Sorry, that sounds really corny.”

  “Yes, but it’s also admirable. You told me you kept something this Drew gave you. Show it to me.”

  Richard went into the bedroom and opened the jewelry box on his dresser. The gold Rolex with its shattered crystal glinted among the cufflinks and tie tacks. He returned and handed the broken watch to Kenntnis.

  “This. I was wearing it that night. I broke it in the struggle. I kept it to remind me.”

  Kenntnis pocketed the watch. “And now it’s time to forget.”

  “No, it’s inspiration for me, a goad.”

  “I think it’s been more of a scourge. Let it go. McGowan’s right. You’ve found your calling. Nothing will ever break you again.”

  “He said that?” Richard asked, absurdly pleased.

  “Yes, he did.” Placing his hands on Richard’s shoulders, he guided him over to the piano. “Now, play something for me.”

  “What would you like?”

  “Something more cheerful than that dismal Schubert.”

  Richard riffled through the stacks of music and pulled out a Mozart sonata. “Will Grenier use this to hurt me?” Richard asked as he set the music on the stand and settled onto the bench.

  “Only if you let him.”

  Kenntnis stood at his side, turning the pages while he played.

  Chapter TWENTY-TWO

  Angela looked up from her take-out container of egg foo yong. Richard stood in the doorway. It was déjà vu. He had looked just this hesitant and lost the first time she’d seen him. God, had it only been a month ago? Of course then he’d worn a uniform, and looked a little like a boy dressed up for Halloween. Today he wore a beautiful gray Prince of Wales windowpaned suit, and was gorgeous. The hurt over what lay between them tightened Angela’s throat.

  “You got more dead people for me?” she asked, keeping her tones clipped and professional.

  “No, I have this for you.” He pulled a bouquet of seven perfect white roses from behind his back. “Will you accept them and my apology?”

  “I guess … maybe.”

  He walked behind her overladen desk, bent down and softly kissed her chastely on the lips.

  “Have things changed?” she asked.

  “Maybe. I don’t know yet, but I wouldn’t mind if we tried to find out,” he said, then hastened to add, “As long as we go a little slow.”

  “I can do slow.”

  “Good.” He gave her that heartbreaking smile. “So what’s new in your life?”

  “A stabbing from one of the homeless shelters, and according to the fire department a gas leak that laid out every person in the Artichoke Café. One girl had an undiagnosed heart condition and it killed her.”

  “You sound dubious.”

  “I didn’t find any evidence of carbon monoxide in her blood work.”

  “What’s their story?” Richard asked, moving aside a stack of papers and perching his hip on the corner of her desk.

  “They were down to the last table of the night. A man and a young woman. Then they don’t remember anything until one of them woke up and smelled smoke in the kitchen.”

  “The cook was down too?”

  “Chef, please, this was the Artichoke Café. And yes, he was unconscious too. A pot had started to scorch.”

  “What about the customers?”

  “They left. Without paying, according to the driver of the meat wagon.” Angela sighed and dug out another bite of foo yong. “That seemed to piss him off more than anything else. I swear I don’t know where they find these people.”

  “Well, it’s not like they have to be sensitive to their passengers,” Richard said. “I’ve got to get back to work. Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night?” he asked with shy formality.

  “Yes, I would very much like that.”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  Assistant District Attorney Jennifer Salisbury was waiting by his desk when Richard arrived at headquarters. She was an elegant woman in her mid-thirties. He was surprised to see her. Normally the lawyers in the DA’s office sent for cops.

  “Hi,” Richard said.

  “Hi. You don’t need to be at the Grand Jury hearing on Thursday.”

  “Which one is that for?” Richard asked, only half listening as he flipped through the phone message slips on his desk.

  “Andresson.”

  That got his attention. The papers fell from between his fingers and scattered like pink leaves across his desk. “Why? What’s happened?”

  “He’s been extradited to Texas. Amarillo. Some B & E rap.”

  “We’ve got him on attempted murder of a police officer. What is this horseshit?”

  Jennifer held up her hands. “Hey, don’t yell at me. I didn’t know about it until today.”

  “I’m sorry.” Richard ran a hand through his hair. “Look, could you call the DA in Texas and at least try to keep them from pleading this out?”

  “Sure,” Jennifer said.

  The heat from the pizza warmed the palm of Rhiana’s hand, reminding her that she should have worn gloves. She shifted nervously from foot to foot and stared at the apartment door. Finally she reached up and knocked. Richard answered. He wore a heavy robe and was towel-drying his hair.

  “Rhiana.”

  “Hi,” she said brightly. “It’s Friday and I thought, hey, I’ll pick up a pie and a movie, and catch up. I haven’t seen you in days and days.” She closed her eyes briefly, cursing herself for sounding whiny.

  “I … I apologize. Things have been … hectic.”

  “They said on the news that you were on leave or something.”

  He had the grace to blush. “Well, yes, I have been, but I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

  “Yeah, I guess you would. I mean shooting somebody … that must be weird.”

  “Yes,” he said shortly.

  “Look, me and the pizza are turning to ice,” Rhiana said, forcing the words past the growing lump in her throat.

  “I’m sorry. Come in.”

  She followed him into the apartment. The room no longer looked like a showroom. Music was scattered across the piano. A dirty mug rested on the coffee table among a tumble of pages from the New York Times. Rhiana set the pizza down on the breakfast
bar.

  “I wish you’d called me,” Richard said, sounding hesitant and embarrassed. “I … I have plans tonight. I would have been free tomorrow.”

  Suspicion tightened her voice. “Who are you … what are you doing?”

  He looked up at her and Rhiana watched the ice settle across his features and in his eyes. “I’m inclined to say that that is none of your business, but perhaps it’s time we talked.” He tossed aside the towel. “I’m going to dinner with Angela.”

  “Why her and not me!?” Rhiana cried.

  “You’re making too much of this,” Richard said. “We’re not dating.”

  She flung herself away, pacing the room. “What would you call it?”

  “Spending time with a friend.”

  “I could be a friend.”

  “I don’t think you want to be ‘friends,’” Richard said and his dry tone provided the quotation marks.

  “It could start that way, couldn’t it? I mean, and then become … more.”

  “I’m too old for you, Rhi, and frankly I’ve got too much baggage that you don’t need to deal with.” His tone was warm and gentle, and it gave her hope.

  “Oh, that’s just silly. I’m going to be eighteen soon.”

  “Which makes you underage.”

  “Angela’s old. A lot older than you. Why doesn’t she feel weird about it?”

  “Because we’re not dating. We’re just friends.”

  “Yeah, right. You didn’t want to tell me what you were doing tonight. That means you’re dating.”

  “We’re not. And you need to leave now.” Richard handed her the pizza box, and walked to the door.

  Rhiana dropped the pizza and jammed a hand into her pocket. “I could …”

  His expression went from exquisite embarrassment to ice and fury.

  “Don’t even think about it.” His tone reminded her of her dad’s when she’d wanted to go out on a school night. She suddenly felt grubby and stupid and young, and she hated him for it. “You know a purely magic spell won’t work on me.”

  “You’re scared I’ll try, and maybe succeed.”

  “No. What scares me is that you’d actually consider using your power. Love can’t be coerced. You know that.” He kept his tone level, reasonable, like an adult remonstrating with a turbulent child. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and fury.