“I don’t know if he’s dangerous, but he rubbed me the wrong way.”
Dougan nodded, not looking upset about it. Pat and Mr. Peterson sat down and everybody got comfortable. Zachary shifted. “Could I take a break? I need to check my voicemails and… just catch my breath.”
The police officer seemed unperturbed. “Go ahead. I have some questions for your two friends, and it’s probably best if they feel like they can talk freely.”
Zachary opened his mouth to point out that Mr. Peterson and Pat had talked to him voluntarily and wouldn’t feel like they needed to hide anything from him, but Dougan beat him to the punch.
“I know, you’re all open and talk about these things; it’s just good practice. If I have to ask anything awkward, they can answer knowing that it won’t get back to you. They can figure out whether to share it with you later.”
Zachary shrugged and shook his head as he walked away. There was no point in arguing about it, since he’d been granted the time he needed to check his messages and get himself back together again emotionally.
He went to the bathroom first, looking at the horror show that was his face before taking a painkiller. He had a new bruise and cut on the bottom of his chin from being pushed up against the side of the police car. There was only a trickle of blood, so he pressed a wad of toilet paper to it and waited for it to stop.
Chapter Twenty-Six
W
ith his bedroom door shut, Zachary sat down on the bed and played his voicemails.
The news of his investigation had been nationwide, and it hadn’t taken people long to connect his name up and start calling him. He’d had the call from Kenzie right at the beginning, and had pretty much ignored the voicemails he had been getting since then, other than taking a quick glance at the name or number attached to each one to make sure that there weren’t any from Philippe or other witnesses who he needed to talk to. Others could wait.
Rhys Salter’s grandmother, Vera, had left a halting message. Zachary had investigated the death of her daughter, Robyn, and had made friends with Rhys, an emotionally broken and usually nonspeaking teen during the case and kept in touch with him afterward. Zachary hadn’t received any messages from Rhys recently, which he hoped meant that Rhys was just living his life and getting through one day at a time and didn’t need to check in with Zachary.
Vera hadn’t called to say that Rhys needed Zachary or that there was anything to be concerned about. Instead, she was worried about the publicity. “I don’t think you’d better be seen anywhere with Rhys,” she said in a near whisper. “I didn’t know that you were gay, and it doesn’t matter to me, but you can see how people are going to talk about a gay white man taking out a teenage black boy, especially with all of the teasing Rhys has to put up with for being mute and his momma being in prison. He doesn’t need that. So I would appreciate it if you don’t meet with Rhys without talking to me first. You can message with him, I know he enjoys that, but please don’t offer to take him anywhere.”
If she were there, Zachary would have explained to her that he wasn’t gay, but that he understood how it could be harmful to Rhys’s reputation, so he wouldn’t do anything that could be misconstrued as an inappropriate relationship with the boy. But she wasn’t there, and maybe by the time he saw her again, the whole thing would have blown over and there would be no need to even mention it. He deleted the message and went on to the next.
A short greeting from Kenzie, just checking in to make sure he was okay. “Give me a call sometime to let me know you’re still alive,” she joked. Zachary smiled and went on to the next.
There were several hang-ups. Probably reporters. Then a couple of reporters who had left long detailed messages urging him to call and get his story out there as soon as he could.
He was really hoping that one of the numbers he didn’t recognize would be from Philippe, but so far none of them had been.
There was a call from Campbell, a more senior cop back home. Zachary hadn’t expected to hear from him, but he supposed Campbell had seen the news coverage like everyone else and was curious about it or wanted to razz Zachary about the inaccuracies in the articles.
“Zachary,” Joshua Campbell’s voice boomed even on the small phone speaker. “Helluva life you’re living these days. I gather you’re down south rather than here, but give me a call when you’ve got a few minutes. I got a call from a Thurlow Dougan down there, and he’s asking a lot of questions. I’ve told him you’re okay, of course, but call me to talk things over. You know the number.”
Zachary made a couple of notes to himself so he wouldn’t forget who he needed to call. So Dougan had checked up on him. Called home to see how the locals felt about him. Zachary hoped that he had been satisfied with the answers.
There was a brief, teasing call from Tyrrell. An attempt to be lighthearted, but Zachary heard real concern behind his words. They had just been reunited, and Tyrrell wasn’t sure how to take his big brother being splashed all over the national news. And he probably didn’t know how to take the conflicting information he was reading about Zachary. It was a pretty confusing way to get to know a long-lost sibling.
More junk calls. Hang-ups and nut jobs. He shouldn’t have made his phone number quite so easy to find.
Then there were the calls that Pat had said they made to warn him about the police circus at the house. Pat first: “Everything is fine, Zachary. Just a heads-up to make sure you’re not worried if there are still police cars here when you get home. We’ve just had some damage to the property. We’re both okay.”
And then later, Mr. Peterson’s carefully measured tone, “Just checking to see when you’re planning to be home, Zach. Give me a call when you’re on your way.”
The call from Bridget had come early on, but he had left it until last, pretending to himself that it was because he didn’t want to hear what she had to say, when the opposite was true. He wanted to listen to her last, just like he left the cherry on a sundae for last, as one final treat to savor.
“I guess you know why I’m calling, Zachary,” she said in a disapproving tone. “I couldn’t very well help seeing all of the coverage. I just wanted to say that I am not one who subscribes to the theory that all publicity is good publicity. This coverage, with all of its inaccuracies, could really be damaging to your reputation as a private investigator. I know it’s none of my business and I don’t have any right to advise you on these things… it’s just a bug in your ear. Something to think about. I have a friend who is a publicist, if you want some help in dealing with this.”
She hung up. Zachary sat there, listening to her voice in his head. Even when she called him to criticize, he still longed to be with her again. But she had made it clear. That wasn’t going to happen. He needed to accept it.
He’d believe it if she ever stopped calling. Then he’d know it was really over.
He sat for a few more minutes, trying to get himself into the right frame of mind to talk to Dougan, then took out his notebook and went back out to the living room.
The living room discussion between the three men being conducted in low voices stopped when Zachary stepped into the room, and they all looked up at him. He sat down on the couch, and the discussion didn’t resume.
“Okay, then, Zachary?” Mr. Peterson asked with a reassuring smile.
“Yeah, all good. Thanks for leaving those messages for me… sorry I didn’t pick them up before coming back.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t. We didn’t want you to come home to police cars and panic. But…” He gave a shrug. “All things considered, you didn’t do too badly.”
Meaning at least Zachary hadn’t ended up a heap on the sidewalk in a full-blown meltdown. Lorne had seen worse reactions from Zachary before. Zachary’s response to finding the house surrounded by police cars had been pretty normal, just like any man coming home and worrying what had happened to his family might have.
Zachary shrugged and didn’t look at the pane of the win
dow that had been covered with cardboard. He looked at Detective Dougan. For an instant, his own words came back to him, about the cop in Russia who had been convicted of dozens of murders. He decided they were loose women and God wanted them dead. Zachary had no doubt that the Russian officer’s bosses and colleagues had had no idea what kind of a monster he really was inside. He’d had a wife and kid, helped the homeless, donated money for his daughter’s dead teacher’s funeral—a woman, as it turned out, he had killed. He was a man everybody had thought was safe. No one had suspected what was really going on in his head.
Zachary pushed these thoughts out of the way. He knew that Dougan was a good cop. He was looking into Jose’s death and hadn’t had a stroke when Zachary had given him all of the information about the missing men. If he had not been what he appeared, it would have been easy enough for him to set up a meeting with Zachary in some remote location and then to make him disappear. He wouldn’t have shown up at Mr. Peterson’s house when he heard about the rock through the window.
“Where do you want to start? Do you want me to tell you about my most recent interviews?”
Dougan sat back, putting his notepad on his knee, one leg crossed over the other. “It’s as good a place to start as any. Tell me about who you talked to.”
Zachary told him about Naylor and his shop and finding clothes there that Jose had worn. Pat leaned forward as he listened, his eyes wide.
“Eric Naylor and Jose were seeing each other?”
Dougan’s eyes flicked over to him. “You didn’t know?”
“No. They never acted like it when we were out as a group. I had no idea that they had a relationship outside of what we all did together.”
“How much do you know about Naylor’s relationships?”
“Well, nothing… he comes to our group as a bachelor. He’s never brought a date. I assumed that he saw people, but never anyone in our group.”
“And you didn’t know that Jose’s clothes came from Naylor’s shop?”
“No. I suppose… I should have wondered where Jose got his clothes. He couldn’t have been making much mowing lawns and moving bricks for A.L. He sent whatever he could home. He was always nicely presented. I never even thought…”
Dougan chewed on the end of his pencil. “It would be a jump to assume he was keeping clothes as trophies, especially if he has them out on the sales floor. But I would like to get my hands on that one outfit, just to make sure there is no blood spatter or anything suspicious on it.”
Zachary nodded. “Do you have enough to get a warrant?”
“Don’t need one if I can just walk in there and buy it off the rack.”
“Oh. I guess not.”
“Describe to me where it was and what it looked like.”
Zachary did the best he could, and Dougan took down the details.
“And is that it? No, you went on to La Rouge after that.”
“Yes. One of the men that Naylor had mentioned was seeing Jose was there and agreed to see me. Honore Santiago.”
Dougan looked at Pat questioningly. Pat shook his head. “Not part of our group. I know who he is, but he didn’t hang out with us.”
“And you?” Dougan looked at Mr. Peterson.
“He doesn’t see anyone else—” Zachary protested.
“Zachary,” Mr. Peterson said quietly. “Hush. I can answer for myself.”
“But you don’t—” Zachary forced himself to stop. He looked down at his feet, waiting for Mr. Peterson to answer.
“I don’t know him well either,” Mr. Peterson confirmed. “As Zachary will no doubt tell you, Honore has a long string of dalliances, and while we might run into him occasionally at La Rouge or other venues, he’s far too… capricious for our tastes.”
“Does he date the type of men who are missing?”
Loren and Pat looked at each other.
“Yes,” Pat confirmed. “Younger men, usually of color. That same sort of body type.” He indicated Zachary. “Smaller, wiry… Zach would be very much his type, aside from his white skin.”
Remembering how flirty Santiago had acted with him, Zachary felt his cheeks heat. He hoped that at least the bruises covered his embarrassment. Mr. Peterson chuckled.
“I wouldn’t recommend you take up with Honore, Zachary.”
“You think he’s dangerous?” Dougan asked.
“I don’t think he’s a serial killer. But he’s not… stable.”
“If Jose was unfaithful, do you think Santiago would have reacted violently?”
“Well… it’s hard to be unfaithful if there’s no expectation of being faithful,” Mr. Peterson explained.
“They were both seeing other people,” Zachary said. “Santiago said so.”
Dougan nodded. “Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have changed his mind and decided he didn’t like Jose seeing other people. I’ve seen it happen before. People start with grand ideas of how an open relationship works for everyone, and then they find out they actually have feelings and want the person all for themselves.”
Zachary hesitated. “Do you know what he does?”
Dougan looked at the notes he had made. “What he does? No. What does he do?”
“He owns a funeral home and cemetery.”
Dougan frowned. His mind obviously followed the same scenarios as Zachary had already considered. He nodded slowly. “It’s something to think about. But we won’t be able to get a warrant, and I don’t think he’s going to invite us over to dig up any graves and troll for extra bodies.”
“He admits that he knew a lot of the men who disappeared, and was involved with some of them. It’s possible that he was responsible for those disappearances, and the others were just men who disappeared on purpose, like you thought to begin with,” Zachary said.
“Why would he admit to being involved with them, though?” Mr. Peterson challenged. “Wouldn’t he deny it?”
“Some serial killers like to brag and point out how smart they are. Some almost seem to get caught on purpose so they can tell how many people they killed without getting caught.”
Dougan flipped a page over in his notepad. “Besides, we would have found him out if he lied. People would have seen them together. Did your Mr. Santiago know Philippe?”
“I don’t know… he didn’t mention him, but I would guess so. If he liked younger immigrant men. He and Philippe were both seeing Jose. Even if they didn’t date each other, they must have known about each other.”
“I went over to see Philippe to ask him a few questions.”
Zachary nodded. Maybe that was why Philippe hadn’t called him back. He was talking to Dougan or he was irritated with Zachary for pointing Dougan in his direction. He didn’t want to talk to the police.
“I wasn’t able to make contact with him,” Dougan said.
“He was probably working.”
“I checked with his work. He didn’t show up today.”
“And he wasn’t at home?”
Dougan studied Zachary, his eyes sharp. “No, he wasn’t at home. Nobody was at home.”
Zachary thought about the number of men who were living there and was surprised. He would have expected there to be at least one person there at all times. They wouldn’t all have the same shifts. Someone would always be around.
“Nobody?” he repeated, thinking that maybe Dougan just meant Philippe wasn’t home. Or Philippe and Nando.
“It had been cleared out,” Dougan said. “Not a matchstick left in the place.”
Zachary sat there with this mouth open. They had all moved out in the middle of the month. They’d packed up all of their stuff and abandoned the apartment.
“There were a lot of people living there. I can’t believe they’re all gone.”
“When was the last time you talked to Philippe?”
“Tuesday. He called me when he couldn’t get John on the phone. Before I called you. I tried to get him, but his phone just kept going to voicemail.”
“You don’t think
anything has happened to him?”
“I’m hoping it’s just that he’s mad at me, so he’s rejecting the calls. With everything that was in the papers, Nando might have figured out about Philippe and Jose seeing each other.”
“Why is that significant?”
“Nando is Philippe’s uncle. Phillipe is living with him so that Nando can make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble. I don’t suppose he’ll be too happy to find out that Philippe was seeing a man who is now missing. That doesn’t sound safe to me.”
“I would guess not. And you think that they’ve all just gone underground. To avoid having to talk to me and you.”
Zachary nodded. But what if the killer were Santiago, or someone else in the same circles? What if one of them had known about Philippe and decided that he knew too much or had seen something he shouldn’t have?
“If it was the serial killer, then they wouldn’t all be gone. Just Philippe. He couldn’t make that many men disappear that fast.”
“No, probably not. That would be quite an undertaking. But if Philippe disappeared, what would Nando and the others do? Go to the police?” Dougan directed the question at Mr. Peterson.
“No. Definitely not. I guess they’d disappear.”
Dougan nodded. “Any indication that someone was watching them or investigating them, and they would disappear.”
Zachary looked through his notepad, thinking about it. It made perfect sense that the men had all disappeared, but Zachary didn’t like it. Why hadn’t Philippe called? Why didn’t he at least called to tell Zachary not to look for them? If he wanted to find Jose’s killer, why didn’t he answer Zachary’s calls?
“I’ll keep calling. He’ll answer sooner or later.”
Dougan shook his head, but didn’t speak his doubt out loud. “If you manage to reach him, let me know. I need to talk with him. It’s pretty hard to put a case together if the witnesses keep disappearing. He’s the one person we know John Mwangi talked to about the missing men. He may know things that were not in the papers. If Mwangi had suspicions about who was involved, he might not have written it down, but he might have talked to a sympathetic listener.”
They Thought He was Safe Page 18
