I pulled into Craig's driveway and before I could even get out of the car, the front door, adorned with a jointed cardboard skeleton, was opened by a thin boy who peered out at me with an anxious expression.
I gave him what I hoped was a non-threatening smile and a little wave. “Are you Craig?” I asked as I approached the door.
He nodded. “Are you Killian?”
“Yeah, thanks for agreeing to talk to me.” I stopped at the steps and wondered if I was going to have to talk to him through the screen door or if he would invite me in. While I waited for him to decide what to do about me, I studied Jake's former friend and, according to Kane at least, admirer. He was an attractive boy, about five foot ten or eleven with a slim build and a narrow waist. His flawless skin was a little too dark to be Caucasian, but I couldn't quite decide on his race. His eyes were large and dark behind his glasses, his hair slightly curly and light brown. He wore a form-fitting blue shirt and wide-legged cargo khakis. He would have been very attractive with a little more confidence. As it was, he had a way of pulling into himself as if he was afraid of the world outside.
He eyed me for a minute then seemed to decide I was safe. He pushed open the screen door and motioned for me to come in.
“We can talk in here,” he said. “My parents aren't home.” His voice was soft with a slight lisp on his sibilants.
He led me into the living room, which was decorated tastefully in earth tones. A family portrait hung over the couch, answering my question as to his race. His father was white and his mother was African-American. A much younger Craig sat on his mother's lap in the picture, smiling widely for the photographer.
I turned back to him and watched him fold himself into the couch, tucking his long legs under him and watching me with uncertainty. I understood what Kane had been saying about him now; there was something decidedly feminine about this boy. I took a seat in a chair facing the couch.
“I really appreciate you talking to me,” I said again. He nodded an acknowledgement and I hoped I wasn't going to have to drag every word out of him. “I know you don't know me or anything...”
“Actually, I know who you are,” he interrupted, catching me by surprise. “Everybody in school knows who you are. You're kind of like a legend around here.”
“Me?” I squeaked in a very un-legendlike manner.
“Yeah. I mean everyone knows you caught that murderer a few years ago and killed him yourself. I wasn't even in high school yet and I heard about it. And then you were brave enough to come out and all...” He stopped abruptly and blushed.
I made a face. “Trust me, going after that killer was not the smartest thing I've ever done. That was stupidity not bravery. I almost got myself and people I cared about killed.”
“But you saved Jake's life,” he insisted.
“Maybe it would have never been in danger in the first place if I'd left things alone.”
“But then the killer would have gotten away with it.”
I was fighting a losing battle so I moved to his other point. “Well, coming out wasn't all that brave. It was just something I had to do.”
“It's more than a lot of people do,” he said softly, looking away.
“Maybe that's because they don't have anyone to support them like I had.”
He looked up at me and gave me an odd, slightly calculating look. “What did you come to talk to me about?” he asked, shifting the subject to one a little more comfortable.
“Jake,” I said simply.
He frowned. “What about Jake? I don't see him much anymore. He's too good for me now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, everything was fine and then all of a sudden he stopped calling me to do things and when I'd call him he'd make some lame excuse. And then he stopped hanging out with me and Danielle at school, started avoiding us, not coming to lunch, things like that.”
“Do you know why?”
“Why he stopped hanging out with us?” I nodded. “Not really. I guess it was something I did. I don't know what, though, and believe me, I've thought about it a lot.” He looked like he could start crying at any moment.
“Do you think Danielle knows?”
He shrugged. “Danielle and I weren't really friends. We were just both friends with Jake; we don't have much in common besides that. We don't talk much now that Jake ignores both of us.”
I wasn't getting much from this poor kid, but I felt very sorry for him. It looked like he was victim in all this; Jake's treatment of him just served to reaffirm his lack of worth in his own eyes.
“You know I'm a private investigator now, right?” I asked. He nodded again. “I want you to keep what I'm about to tell you just between you and me, ok?” His eyes widened and he nodded once more. “I think Jake is involved in something illegal. I've been asked to look into it by someone who cares about him very much. They're worried about him. The reason I'm here to talk to you is that I was hoping you'd be able to help me figure out what's going on. Do you have any ideas, no matter how wild, about what Jake is involved with?”
He thought for a minute. “It could be drugs, I guess,” he said after a while. “I don't know what else it could be. I'm sorry.”
“Don't be sorry,” I told him. “It's not your fault. And for the record, I don't think it's your fault that Jake is being a jerk either. I don't think you did anything wrong. I think it's Jake that's doing something wrong.”
“Really?” he asked with a vaguely desperate note in his voice, as if he very much needed to believe this.
“Yes. I have to go talk to Danielle now, but I want to say something before I go. Remember what I said earlier about having people to support you?”
He gave me a sharp look and slowly nodded. I dug a business card out of my wallet and handed it to him.
“This is none of my business really, but if you ever need someone to talk to about anything, you can talk to me. Maybe you're parents and friends are all the support you'll need, but just in case...”
I let the offer hang in the air while he studied my card as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. When he finally looked up, I could have sworn his eyes were filled with unshed tears.
“I don't have any friends anymore,” he said in a voice so soft I could barely hear him. “And my parents are too busy to be bothered with my stupid problems.”
“Your problems aren't stupid,” I said gently. “They matter to you and I'll bet they would matter to your parents too.”
He shrugged, but looked unconvinced. “They wouldn't understand.”
“Maybe I would.”
He tucked my card carefully into his pocket and folded his hands in his lap. “Thank you,” he whispered.
“You're welcome, Craig. And I meant what I said, if you need to talk to someone, please call me.”
He nodded one last time and I stood up. “I'll let myself out,” I told him.
“They call me faggot,” he said suddenly. I sank back into the chair.
“Who does?” I asked.
“Everybody at school.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Isn't it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
“I'm not a jock. I'm not all macho. I'm not tough. I suck at sports. I walk like girl.” He stopped his litany of perceived faults and took a ragged breath.
“There's nothing wrong with any of that,” I told him.
He snorted. “Try telling that to the guys at my school.”
“I remember what it was like,” I said. He looked up at me with surprise in his eyes. “I wasn't always a legend,” I said dryly. “When I was in high school I was anything but popular. I was awkward and uncoordinated when it came to sports. I was lucky, I didn't really get picked on too much because the people I hung out with were jocks. They weren't really my friends but we'd grown up together and everyone assumed we were friends so they left me alone for the most part. But when I became friends with Seth, he was the gay boy that was murdere
d, and I started to realize I was gay, the people who everyone thought were my friends turned on me.”
“Oh wow, really?”
“Yes, really. They left that part out of the story, huh? That stuff isn't important in the long run. After high school, you'll never even see most of those idiots again. All that matters is what you think about yourself, and you shouldn't let their opinions affect that.”
“Easier said than done,” he mumbled.
“True. This is why it's important to talk to people who understand. Can I ask you a very personal question?”
His eyes looked everywhere in the room but at me. I didn't think he was going to answer me at first, but he finally nodded his head yes.
“Do you think you are gay?”
He bit his lip and stared at the wall over my head. Again, he didn't answer right away, but then gave a jerky nod. A tear squeezed out one eyes and rolled down his cheek.
“Have you ever told anyone before?” He shook his head no. “Well, it's ok. You don't have to worry about me telling anyone else unless you say it's ok. You can trust me.” His eyes slowly lowered to meet mine. “You don't have to be afraid.” I told him. You're not alone. You can ask me anything, talk to me about anything.”
Suddenly he burst into tears and began to sob in earnest. I moved to the couch next to him and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. He twisted into my chest so quickly he almost threw me off balance. I hesitantly wrapped my arms around his quivering shoulders, but it seemed to be the right thing to do. He calmed a little, but continued to cry for a few more minutes before pulling away and wiping furiously at his eyes.
“I'm sorry,” he said shakily. “I can't believe I did that.”
“Don't be sorry,” I said again. “It's ok. I completely understand. There's just so much pressure there that it kind of explodes out, doesn't it? Like a dam that springs a little leak and then the whole thing blows.”
He gave a little relieved giggle and nodded. I gave him a moment to pull himself together. He looked at his watch and frowned.
“You should probably go,” he said. “My parents will be home soon and I'd rather not have to explain why I'm crying on the couch with some guy they've never seen before.”
“Are you ok?” I asked.
He smiled. “Yeah. I'm ok. I feel better than I have in months. It feels really good to tell someone, like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Can I still talk to you?”
“Definitely. You'll probably need to talk now more than ever. My home phone, office, cell phone, and my email address are on the card I gave you, so you can get in touch with me no matter what. You can call me day or night, ok?”
He nodded happily then surprised me by throwing his arms around me in a big hug. “Thank you, Killian,” he said as he squeezed me.
“You're very welcome, Craig.”
He released me just as suddenly as he had grabbed me and stood up with a little embarrassment. I stood up too and followed him to the front door, where he was unable to stop himself from giving me another spontaneous hug. I laughed and hugged him back. He let me out and stood in the door while I got in my car. He was still standing at the door as I drove away.
Well, I thought to myself as I looked up at him in my rearview mirror, I may not have found much out for the case, but that was definitely not a wasted trip.
Chapter 22
I pulled into Danielle's driveway only a little after the time I had told her to expect me. Danielle's neighborhood was a step up from the one Craig lived in. At least the houses here were discernibly different from their neighbors in architectural style. Danielle lived in a light blue, two-story Cape Cod with an attached two-car garage. The garage door was open revealing a matching set of Audi's, one champagne colored and one dark green. In the drive, outside the garage, was a slightly older Saturn, which I assumed to be Danielle's.
Unlike Craig's house, no one greeted me at the door here. I approached the front door and knocked. After a brief wait, it was opened by a middle-aged man with the look of a stereotypical college professor, sweater vest over a button up oxford, brown slacks, and brown loafers. His hairline had long ago sounded the retreat and what remained was rapidly turning from a mousy brown to an equally mousy gray. He peered at me over his half-glasses with a slightly befuddled expression, as if he expected to recognize me but didn't.
“I'm here to see Danielle,” I said, hoping I had the right house.
“Oh. Yes. One minute, please,” he said as he turned away. His voice was a surprisingly rich baritone.
I stood waiting on the doorstep for about a minute before she appeared. She looked remarkably like her father, except without the receding hairline and a little heavier. Her hair was the same mousy brown, hers hung limply to her shoulders, and she had the same pear-shaped body. She even peered at me over her glasses in much the same way. She was wearing what looked like a man's button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up over a pair of Capri pants with no shoes.
“Are you the guy who called and wanted to talk to me?” she asked.
“Yes, I'm Killian Kendall,” I said.
She nodded. “I've heard of you. Jake used to talk about you and of course, almost everybody at school knows what you did.”
“Of course,” I muttered.
“What?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing,” I said quickly. She seemed a little sullen and it appeared to be in my best interest to keep her talking while she was still willing. “Can I ask you some questions about Jake?”
She shrugged, so I took that as an affirmative. When she made no move to either come out or let me in, I asked, “Do you think I could come inside or you could come outside so we don't have to talk through the door?”
She made a face and threw open the door with a dramatic sigh. “I'll come out there,” she said as if she were making a huge sacrifice for my benefit. “If we go inside my parents will listen.”
It didn't seem to me that her father would be able to work up enough interest to be bothered, but I didn't know him and I'd never even met her mother. She led the way across the lawn to a freestanding lawn swing with just enough room for two people to sit next to each other if they didn't mind being a little intimate. I minded, but sat down gingerly anyway, as far to the other side as possible. Danielle gave me an expectant look.
“You're friends with Jake?” I asked.
“Not anymore.”
“What happened?”
“Who knows? He never told me.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I think he got bored with us and moved on to greener pastures.”
“Us meaning you and Craig?”
“Yeah.”
“Was it always just the three of you?”
“Pretty much. Every once in a while, some guy would try to get close to Jake if you know what I mean. He'd be around for a few days and then we wouldn't see him much anymore. I think Jake's motto was `Use `em and lose `em.'”
“Do you know for a fact that Jake was sleeping with these guys?”
“Not for a fact, no, but it doesn't take a genius.”
“Who were some of these guys?”
“I don't remember their names. They weren't really important, you know?”
I tried not to sigh in frustration. For all I knew, she was making this stuff up as she went along; she seemed like the type. “So you knew that Jake is gay?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Duh. Everyone knows that. He's not exactly in the closet.”
“Did that ever bother you?”
“Of course not,” she answered quickly, which probably meant that it had. I was beginning to suspect that Danielle had a crush on Jake and had resented the other guys. It made me wonder how she felt about Craig, who had also had a crush on Jake, a crush so obvious that even Kane had noticed it.
“What about Craig?”
“What about him?” she asked obtusely.
“What did you think of him?”
She quirked her mo
uth to one side. “Craig is a little wimp. He followed Jake around like a puppy dog, mooning at him, simpering at him like some demented Scarlette O'Hara. It was sickening. That's probably why Jake quit hanging out with him in the first place.”
I had to bite back a question asking her if that was why he'd quit hanging out with her too. I rather doubted that Jake's sudden change had anything to do with Craig or Danielle; it seemed to me that Jake had enjoyed having his own private fan club. Something else must have come along that made lovesick teenagers seem paltry in comparison. Could that something have been the escort business?
The Truth of Yesterday Page 32
