“How did you meet?”
“We met last year. I teach music at a school in the city.”
“DC?”
“Baltimore. The school was holding a benefit concert and Paul was there with a client. He came up to me after the concert to tell me how wonderful he thought the concert was and to congratulate me. He was so sweet. We hit it off right away. We talked for a while, but when he left, that was it. I didn't know his name or anything. A few months later, we ran into each other at a jazz concert on the Mall in DC.” I smiled to myself about the jazz reference and my earlier guess. “He wasn't working that time and I was only there with a couple friends who wouldn't miss me at all, so we hung out for the rest of the night. That led to a few more dates and things just went from there.”
“You knew he was an escort?”
“Yes, Paul was very up-front about that right from the start.”
“And it didn't bother you at all?” I admit this question was more for me than from the standpoint of the case.
“Not really. It was his job; he had it before I met him. Who am I to judge him? He was a good person. I knew that instinctively from the first time I met him. That was all I needed to know.”
His words sunk into me like rain into parched ground. I sat quiet for so long TJ finally waved a hand in front of my face. “You still there?” he asked.
“Sorry,” I said, blushing. “My mind wandered for a second there. I didn't get much sleep last night.” I shook my head to clear it. “Were you planning a vacation with Paul?”
His eyes widened. “How'd you know about that?”
“Plane tickets for two were found in his safe, along with a few other things.”
“They were...” He stopped and took a deep breath. “They were for our honeymoon. We were planning to have a commitment ceremony. Paul surprised me with them on our anniversary.”
“Why all the secrecy?”
“The school I work for isn't the most liberal institution. It's a private school, religiously backed. They don't know I'm gay. Well, actually, a few people on the faculty know, but they are all very protective of me. The administration doesn't know and if I want to keep my job, I'd better keep it that way. I love my job, Mr. Kendall.”
“Call me Killian,” I said absently.
“Ok, Killian. You mentioned a few other things in the safe, do you mind if I ask what they were?”
“Not at all. In fact, maybe you can help explain them. There was a bank book with regular deposits but no withdraws and some letters that didn't say who they were to.”
“The bank book is easy. We'd started a savings account for the two of us, as a safety net in case I lost my job. We were putting whatever we could spare into it as often as we could afford it. It was only in his name because I was too paranoid to open a joint account.”
“And the letters?”
He looked away.
“I think those letters were to Paul's killer,” I said softly. “If I'm right, then you could help me catch him. I need you to tell me everything you know about this, TJ. It could be really important.”
He drew in a shaky breath. “I told him to just leave it alone, but he couldn't. He was the type of person who couldn't stand to see injustice go unchallenged.”
“What was the injustice?”
“He found out some things about someone he knew.”
“TJ, you're going to have to be more specific. I already know all this. How about if I make it easier on you. I tell you what I suspect and you tell me if I'm right or wrong?”
He nodded jerkily.
“I suspect that Paul somehow found out that his boss Neal was really Fenton Black.”
“He'd known that for a while, after Black made the mistake of showing up at a society dinner that Paul was attending with a client. Black is an arrogant bastard. He walked right up to Paul and introduced himself. Paul recognized his voice right away, although he didn't let Black know.”
“Ok. So then, Paul maybe finds out about all the shady dealings Black was involved with and it eats at him. Right?” TJ nodded. “So he starts writing him those letters, trying to get him to...what? Here's where I get lost. What was Paul hoping to accomplish? He doesn't seem like the blackmailing type. What was he trying to do, get Black to do the right thing? Was he really that naïve?”
“He wasn't trying to blackmail him,” he snapped, then took a deep breath. “Sorry. In many ways, yes, Paul was that naïve. He was very idealistic. He had this view of the way he thought the world should be and expected everything to fit that way. Even after all he'd been through, with his family abandoning him and his lover leaving.”
“What did Black do when he got the letters?” I tried to ignore the reference to his lover leaving.
“He contacted Paul, told him to back off. Paul told him that he had saved copies of all the letters along with a file that described in great detail everything Paul had on him.”
“There was nothing like that in the safe. No files, nothing to even hint at who the letters were too.”
“That's because it was never in the safe. He kept it somewhere else, as a precaution.”
“Where?”
“I…I don't know.”
“Black is a ruthless criminal,” I said, urgency filling my voice. “You have to tell me what you know. Paul isn't the first person he has killed, but we can make sure he's the last.”
TJ sat for a moment, then stood up abruptly and walked out. At first, I thought he'd simply walked out of the interview. I was feeling a little miffed about being stiffed with the check again for the second time that day, even though TJ had only ordered a soda and I hadn't ordered anything, when he walked back in carrying a slim file. He sat back down across from me and slid it across the table.
“I had a feeling you'd be looking for this,” he said. “So I brought it. I just didn't know if I would have the courage to give it to you.”
“Why wouldn't you have the courage?”
“It makes me involved more than I already was. If Black decides to get revenge, now he has a reason to come after me.”
“How would he even know who you are?”
“You found me; if he's half the master criminal Paul and you have made him out to be, he'll be able to find me too.”
“If this information accomplishes what I hope it will, he'll be behind bars.”
“They have ways of reaching beyond those bars.”
“I think you've been watching too much of the Sopranos,” I tried to insert a little levity into the conversation. I could tell TJ really was terrified. He was eying the folder as if he was thinking about snatching it away and running. I quickly flipped it open and began to read.
I immediately felt my eyes bulge as I quickly thumbed through the file's contents, amazed and excited by what I saw. If Paul hadn't been murdered, he would have made one hell of an investigator. He had somehow amassed a dossier documenting Black's illegal activities, complete with the much-needed proof. He had managed conclusively to connect Fenton Black to the alias of Neal Parsons, the owner and operator of the Top to Bottom Escort Agency. There were several photographs, each of Black with a different man, all taken outdoors while the men in the pictures were talking. On the back of each one, Paul had carefully printed the date, time, and location of each photo, along with the identity of the men with Fenton Black. I only recognized one of the names, but that was enough to send chills down my spine. He was one of the most wanted drug lords in the US.
It was the last few pages that really caught my attention, however. They were deeds for large plots of lands, all on the Eastern Shore. Each piece of property was originally zoned as protected wetlands, but I happened to know that they had recently been rezoned for development thanks to certain corrupt politicians; the very same ones that Micah has recently exposed. Pieces began to fall into place and I was suddenly more afraid for Micah than ever.
“Have you read this?” I asked TJ, my heart pounding in my chest.
“No,” he
said so quickly I knew he was lying.
“I need you to go with me to the police, immediately.”
He began shaking his head. “No way,” he said. “You don't need me, you've got the file. I've done my part.”
“I may need you to verify that Paul gathered this data and this is what he was killed for.”
“I can't do it. I'm sorry, but I'm just not a brave person.”
“Yes, you can do it. You have to. Look, the police know you were Paul's boyfriend. I told them that before I came to talk to you. I'm not flying on my own out there; I'm cooperating with the police. I'm going to tell them exactly where I got this from and everything you told me. If you don't come forward now, it could look like you have something to hide. And you can be guaranteed that they will come looking for you.”
He looked absolutely miserable. I only hoped my little speech would convince him to come with me and not spook him, as Evans had warned me not to do. If TJ bolted, Evans would have my neck for sure.
“Fine, I'll go with you,” he finally said after several long seconds of tense silence.
“Good. I have to make a couple phone calls. Wait here.” I jumped up and practically ran out of the restaurant. I had to call Micah and warn him.
I stayed near the restaurant's front door while I dialed so I'd see TJ if he tried to slip out. Micah answered quickly.
“It's Killian,” I said somewhat breathlessly.
“Are you ok?” he asked.
“It's been a long day, but I just found out some things that you need to know about. Listen carefully; I don't have a lot of time. I've got a skittish witness waiting inside that I need to get the police pronto.”
“Killian, what's going on?”
“I found Paul's boyfriend. The letters Paul wrote were to Fenton Black. Before he was killed, Paul had given his boyfriend a file containing evidence that Black was the same person as Neal Parsons and that he was associated with drug lords.”
“That's great! Solid evidence? That's the proof you needed that he had a motive to kill Paul.”
“Micah, there's more. Black was also involved in the wetlands scandal there on the Shore. He was the real owner of the properties that had been rezoned.”
“What? But his name isn't on any of the deeds.”
“Dig back and you'll find them. I have copies of the deeds in my hand right now. He probably sold them to some dummy companies or to fake names, but I'm betting you'll find that he was at the core of the corruption in the council.”
“Wow. This is an even bigger story than I ever imagined.”
“Weren't you listening? That means you're in as much danger as I am.”
“I've been in danger of one sort or another since I broke this story. I'm not worried.”
I sighed. “You'll at least be careful?”
“Of course I'll be careful, as long as you promise to be careful too.”
“I promise. I have to go. I have to go see the detective and give him this information.”
“Ok. Killian, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
We hung up and I quickly called Detective Evans to tell him I was coming in with an important witness and the evidence he'd been waiting for.
“This had better be good, Kendall. I was supposed to get off in 15 minutes,” he growled.
“It'll be worth the overtime, sir,” I assured him. “I think you'll be very interested in what I have to show you.”
I hung up and rushed back into the restaurant. I was very relieved to find TJ still sitting at the table, although he'd shredded his napkin into confetti.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“No, but I'm as ready as I'm going to get.”
I smiled encouragingly and held out my hand. “Let's go stop a killer.”
Chapter 29
After all his growling about keeping him overtime, Evans kept us cooling in the waiting room forever. Or maybe it only felt like forever because I was trying to keep TJ from bolting. I had to do everything but hog tie him just to keep him there, and the only reason I didn't resort to that was because I don't really have any idea what hog tying is, let alone how to do it.
Finally, Evans seemed to feel he'd made his point. He stuck his head into the cramped sitting area and motioned us back with a jerk of his head. I practically had to drag TJ with me as we followed the detective into his office. I'd never been in a detective's office before, so I took the opportunity to take a quick look around. I'm not sure what I had been expecting, but it wasn't this impeccably neat shrine to the Baltimore Ravens football team. Not so much as a pencil was out of place on the faux wood-grained top of his standard metal desk. The guest chairs were also standard office issue-hard, upholstered maroon seats with wooden arms and legs. Nothing else in the office was standard issue. It seemed as if every other item in the room was either purple or black. Glass-fronted display cases housed autographed footballs, helmets, photographs, stuffed animals wearing the Ravens uniform, caps with the team logo, even a mini-reproduction of the stadium. A framed shirt with scrawled autographs of the entire Super Bowl winning team hung on the wall over his desk. It was a little overwhelming, kind of like walking into a museum.
“I would have pegged you for a Redskins fan,” I said as I sat down.
A look of disgust passed over Evans stoic face. “Please, just because I live in DC? I gave up on the Redskins years ago. But we're not here to talk football. You said on the phone that you had some important news for me. I'm assuming that news has something to do with your friend here?”
“Yes, excuse me for not introducing you. Detective Owen Evans, this is Thomas Jackson, better known as TJ.” TJ flinched at his introduction. I plowed on doggedly. “TJ was dating Paul. He knew a lot about what was going on, he knew who Paul was writing the letters to, and he knew about the tickets and the bank book in the safe. But the best part is he has proof.”
Evans held up his hand as if to stop traffic. “Ok, we'll get to the proof part, but first I want to know how you know about the tickets and the bank book in the safe. On second thought, I don't want to know. About that proof?”
Slightly flustered, I produced the file TJ had given me and handed it to the detective. He carefully flipped through it, his expression never once changing as he did. When he'd gone all the way through the file, he laid it carefully on the desk and looked up at TJ.
“You had this all along?” he asked in a deadly calm voice. A slight shudder rippled though my body. I'd heard someone else use a voice like that whenever he was furious-my father. I moved quickly to head him off.
“He was scared and grieving. His lover had just been murdered, he was afraid the killer would come after him if he came forward with the information.”
“So he was going to let his lover's killer just walk away?”
“He wasn't exactly in a condition to be making solid judgment calls.”
“If he'd come to us in the first place the killer would be behind bars and he'd be safe.”
“We both know it doesn't always work like that. Good lawyers can get even the guiltiest clients off Scot-free, and Black can afford the best lawyers in the country. Besides, if Black has mob ties, and there is evidence in there that he does, then he could exact revenge even from behind bars.”
“Hello?” TJ interrupted. “I'm sitting right here and this isn't exactly making me feel any better about this.”
“Feel any better?” Evans snapped. “Why should you feel any better about anything? This isn't about making you feel good; it's about catching a murderer and bringing him to justice.”
“So you do believe that Black is the killer now?”
“I at least think he was behind it, although it would be more likely that his type would hire to have it done.”
“The crime didn't show any signs of a professional hit. Everyone has said it seemed more like a crime of passion.”
“Black is smart,” the detective insisted. “After we talked earlier I made a few calls about
this guy. He's a very wanted man. They've been trying to get him for years and the man is like Teflon, they can never get anything to stick. He's suspected of being behind no less than six deaths-five murders and one suicide-and that's just in the US alone. It's long been common knowledge that he is involved in the drug trade and rumored that he has mob ties. The man is scum, but they've never been able to prove anything. He's very careful. I doubt he'd be so foolish as to hire a killer who would make this look like a professional hit. They'd want to confuse things as much as possible.”
“Or maybe Black went to talk to Paul, maybe to try and scare him off, and it got of hand.”
The Truth of Yesterday Page 43
