He looked down the street as far as he could see. No Ruby. An awful thought occurred. Suddenly he began to run, oblivious to the pain. As he rounded the hilltop he saw the crowd gathered by the side of the road near the bottom. He ran till he reached them, pushing bystanders aside until he stood over the crumpled body lying half-on and half-off the sidewalk.
Oh, God!he thought. Please don't let it be!
But by the murmuring of the people gathered around, he knew Ruby was dead.
"It was a terrible accident," he heard one man say. "The car didn't even stop!"
Accident? Bradford thought. This woman knew about safety on the streets!
He stood and walked on in the direction Ruby had come. He passed several houses before he saw something glittering in the dirt at the side of the road more than a hundred feet from the body. He picked it up, turning it in his hands. This was no accident, he thought. She was running for her life!
He looked back at the crowd. He could be of no use to Ruby now. Nor she to him, sadly. Whatever she had to tell him, she'd taken with her to the bardo.
Brad couldn't face going back home and he didn't see any point in returning to Coffee Joe's. No doubt the news of Ruby's death would get around town within hours. And he certainly didn't want to be the one to tell Halle, despite what he suspected about her.
He wandered down to the harbor where the shushing of waves reached his ears. He crossed the darkened beach to the remains of an old pier that hadn't been used in years. The rickety structure extended forty feet into the ocean before collapsing in a heap of disuse and broken boards.
With his arms outstretched for balance, Brad stepped onto the pier. He walked out as far as he safely could, leaving the outermost end to the pelicans and seagulls perched there watching him with curiosity.
With his legs dangling over the edge, he sat and stared across the harbor. The lights of town surrounded him from behind, gleaming over his shoulders like a glittering cape. He was very close to where Hayden's body had been fished from the harbor two days earlier. Would he ever discover who had killed Rosengarten and Ross and now Ruby?
Beneath him the water slapped at the barnacle-covered pillars and withdrew again. A thought came to him: The sea giveth and the sea taketh away again. These two things are both the way of life. His eyes followed the darkened outline of the Cape out where it disappeared under twinkling stars. Somewhere beyond this bare reef of sand lay the outer world. From where he sat it all looked so simple and uncomplicated, as if nothing could ever change or challenge him. But in truth it had been years since his life had been simple. Loneliness only looked easy to the untrained eye.
The tower bell struck eleven. The ringing tones brought back the bells of his childhood. Whatever sense of belonging he'd known then had been ripped from him with the deaths of first his mother and then his father. So what did it mean for him to have no allegiance to anything other than truth? That's what Grace had asked when she'd interviewed—no, interrogated—him for the position. Could he offer that kind of allegiance to her organization? Yes, he'd told her. He could do that and more. But what had he meant?
What he'd meant was that he was alone in the world and had no allegiance to anyone beyond a handful of friends he could easily abandon, if need be. And he'd proved it by abandoning Ross. Or had he? Maybe he'd simply proved he had no allegiance to anything whatsoever. Not even to truth. What good was an agent who functioned perfectly but cared for nothing? Was he that heartless? No!
Hadn't he come to Provincetown out of allegiance? No—allegiance be damned! It was out of love! Ross might have been the only one he'd loved since his father, but Brad knew what love was and what it could make him capable of doing. And that's why it was dangerous. That was why Box 77 had wanted his allegiance to be with them, and them alone, because when you loved someone you would do anything to protect them!
Rope and tackle clanged softly against a metal mast. His gaze wandered out over the water and up to the stars. All he wanted was an answer, something to tell him he was doing the right thing, and that his actions were for a purpose, despite appearances. But there were no answers out there.
Finally, when he'd had enough salt air and remorse, he stood and headed back. Even the impersonal company of a bar would be better than this misery and self-doubt.
Brad found himself sitting in the semidarkness of the Atlantic House. He stared at a photograph of the young Eugene O'Neill hanging over the bar. O'Neill had come to Provincetown to make his name as a dramatist. An unknown when the picture was taken, he eventually became a man of monumental accomplishments. Yet he too would face his share of tragedy.
Brad thought of his first visit to P'Town, when he'd encountered the drunken queen and her entourage. She'd stood three feet away from where he sat now, hands on her hips, accusing him of not knowing the importance of the guesthouses in Provincetown. And, by association, of not knowing what it meant to be gay. She was speaking of self-knowledge. What she'd meant was, he hadn't known who he was. He'd been an unformed lump, an unshaped piece of clay. If he did nothing to shape himself, fate would intervene and do it for him in ways he might not like. But had his experiences in the intervening years made any difference? All he felt was loss and regret.
He steadfastly wished he could go back to those times now, as he downed his third gin and tonic and signaled for another. How many more would it take to forget that Ruby was dead? And how many more to forget that he was the cause? Grace would have his head for disobeying her orders. Now, at last, he could see the consequences of his actions. Why did he never listen? She'd given him a directive and he'd disobeyed. He wouldn't be surprised if he lost his job over it.
My job! he thought with scorn. Grace and her shadowy lot could all go fuck themselves! He'd done what he thought was right! There was nothing he could do or say to justify it now. But no one could tell him he was on the wrong track, either, given the awful turn of events. Nor could anyone make him feel good about it.
Brad felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Zach looking down at him.
"I wasn't following you!" Zach exclaimed before he could say anything. "I was passing through and saw you sitting here. You looked so miserable. I just wanted to see if you were all right. If you want me to, I'll leave."
Brad took a deep breath. He recalled his suspicions about Zach's possible involvement in all of this. The idea suddenly evaporated.
"Sit," Bradford said, indicating the stool beside him.
Zach sat and looked into his face. "Why so sad?" he asked.
"Big Ruby died a few hours ago."
Zach's mouth fell open. "What happened?"
"She was run down by a car."
"Was it an accident?"
"It wasn't an accident. Someone chased her and deliberately ran her down. She saw it coming and she was running for her life." He pulled out the rhinestone glasses he'd found lying on the road. "She dropped these about a hundred feet before the car got her."
Zach took the glasses and turned them in his hands. Brad realized the time had come to make a choice. Either he had to trust Zach fully or forget him entirely. He already knew which it would be.
"What I'm going to say is probably the most confidential thing you will ever hear," he said, then stopped, realizing how pompous that sounded.
"Is this what you wouldn't tell me the other day on the salt marsh?"
Brad nodded. "Once I tell you this, there's no going back," he said. "Are you sure you want to hear?"
"I want to hear," Zach said.
Brad had already told Zach he'd come to Provincetown to claim Ross's body. Now he told him the rest of his story. Choosing his words carefully, he explained how he'd discovered the drowned boy and the next day learned that Ross's death was a murder, only to have it followed by Rosengarten's and now Big Ruby's. Then he told Zach how he'd abandoned Ross five years earlier to work for the secretive Box 77. When he finished, Zach sat there watching him.
"That's about it," Brad said. "But I want to say I'm real
ly sorry for getting you mixed up in all of this."
"That's what you really do?" Zach said. "You work for an organization that safeguards against threats to global security and has no name?"
Brad nodded.
"Whew!" Zach said. "I think you should stick with the golf pro story."
Brad managed a smile.
"And I'm really sorry about Big Ruby," Zach continued. "I adored her, but you aren't to blame. Obviously, somebody has it in for the people of this town. If we could just figure out why, then we'd probably know who."
"That's what I've been trying to do for the last week."
Rather than be scared off, Zach jumped into the story with zeal.
"I'm not an expert in international espionage, but it seems there's a common thread running between Ruby, Ross, and Hayden. And maybe even the guy who drowned the night you got here. There must be some deep, dark secret we haven't figured out."
Brad nodded. "Ruby knew Ross as a customer, but she didn't know he worked at the guesthouse until I told her. As for Hayden, Ruby claimed she hadn't spoken to him since their art gallery went bankrupt a few years ago."
"What about the drowned guy? Did he live here, too?"
"According to the police he'd been living here since the beginning of the summer."
Zach held up a finger. "Then this is what we know for sure: one, they all lived in Provincetown. And, as we know, everybody who lives in Provincetown knows everybody else." He raised another finger. "Two, they all had connections to the guesthouse, although Ruby's was admittedly from a distance."
Brad added a third finger. "And they all smoked dope. There's number three."
Zach looked sheepish. "So do we, but it doesn't add up to much, does it?" He thought for a moment. "What about a drug dealer?"
"I'm ahead of you there. I talked to him the day before yesterday. He was at Rosengarten's funeral. He's in a wheelchair, though."
"It doesn't mean he can't drive a car. Or that he's not faking his injury!"
"You sound like Grace," Brad said.
"Who else is there?"
Brad mentioned Perry the barkeep, watching for Zach's reaction.
Zach laughed. "I know him. He works at Purgatory. I meant to tell you." His hand went into his back pocket and fished out a wallet. "They called to say they found this. Perry tried to pick me up when I went in to get it."
Brad remembered Zach's missing wallet. He could've kicked himself for all the unfounded suspicions that had gone through his mind about Zach and Perry in the last day and a half.
Zach saw the turmoil in his face. "Don't worry. He's sweet, but not my type," he said. "You're my type."
"I'm glad. I hate to tell tales out of school, but he's also HIV positive."
"I know—he told me."
Brad hoped he could trust what Zach was telling him. He'd have to.
"What was Perry's connection with the guesthouse?" Zach asked.
"Perry worked there at one time, and apparently he knew Ross. They had a fight, but Perry says he was only trying to warn Ross to leave before anything bad happened to him. Unfortunately, Ross didn't listen."
"Whatever else he may be, I doubt he's a killer. I can sense these things. He's more like a wounded animal. But there's got to be something else that ties all these people together."
"Whatever it is, it's nothing obvious that would make them all potential murder victims." Bradford downed his drink. "I'm exhausted," he announced. "And I've got a lot of explaining to do in the morning."
He stepped down from the stool and nearly tumbled to the floor. Only Zach's quick reaction kept him from falling. Brad hadn't thought of his ankle since he jumped the fence to avoid the speeding car.
"I'm taking you home," Zach declared.
"No," Brad protested. "It's dangerous for you to get any more mixed up in this than you already are."
"I can't have you run over or falling down in the street," Zach reasoned. "Just let me walk with you. Besides, I already am mixed up in this. How much worse can it get?"
30
With his arm over Zach's shoulder, Brad was able to keep the weight off his ankle. At the door to his guesthouse he turned to Zach and held him. Their lips met. Brad broke off the embrace.
"I can't invite you in."
"Why not?" Zach pleaded.
"I'm afraid for you. I can't put your life in peril."
Zach pressed himself closer to Brad. "It's too late now. We've already slept together. We're both a part of this."
Brad felt his resistance weakening.
"Are you telling me you're going to let me walk home alone in the dark?" Zach pressured.
Brad considered. "And you just thought of that now?"
"Well, not exactly," Zach admitted. "But you didn't think of it earlier, and now it's too late to send me home."
Zach's eyes begged to be let into his house, into his life. Brad hesitated. There'd been too many years alone, and Big Ruby's death had snapped something inside him.
"All right," he relented.
They went up the stairs together. Zach helped Brad out of his clothes and into the loft bed where they tumbled into one another's arms.
"I know I shouldn't say this, but it feels awesome to be with you," Zach said.
"It feels right," Brad agreed. "Somehow it just feels right."
He rolled over on top of Zach, his erection pressing itself between Zach's legs. The boy gasped and slipped his arms around Brad's chest.
"Oh, God!" Zach blurted out, wanting to say more, but he held back.
He shifted and Brad suddenly found himself lying beneath the boy.
"You're a wild ride, little buckaroo!"
"Save a horse—ride a cowboy instead. That's my motto!" Zach beamed.
Zach's erection nudged him. Brad suddenly realized how big the boy really was.
"Whoa!" he cried. "Nice and easy, now. That's practically virgin territory and I believe you need a passport to enter."
He reached over to his bedside kit and handed Zach a condom. He held onto the boy tightly as he entered, adjusting to the burning sensation. Then, just as suddenly, it turned to indescribable pleasure. Zach rocked gently till an urgency overtook him. He began to thrust more and more wildly. Brad looked down to see Zach's horse head tattoo join with his own to create a winged stallion.
"We're flying!" Zach roared as they rocked in unison till their heads were banging on the side of the loft.
"I love... your hair!" Zach gasped, and let out a laugh as they both came at the same time.
Zach collapsed, spent by his exertions. Brad cradled Zach's head against his shoulder, running his hands through the boy's blue locks. He was thinking for the tenth time that evening how right it felt to be with Zach, when sleep intervened. He woke in the night to find arms wrapped tightly around him, as though they would never let him go.
In the morning Brad was awake and out of bed first. He felt a dull pain in his ankle, but it was no match for the one in his head. He found he could walk gingerly if he was careful. He popped some painkillers and took his coffee onto the veranda where he sat looking over the awakening salt marsh. Everything was peaceful, as if there were no troubles anywhere in the world.
He thought of Ruby, and then he tried not to think of her. How could he live with the knowledge that he'd led her to her death? Any moment now the phone would ring and he'd have to face Grace. What would he say?
Lying in Zach's arms all night, he kept thinking how much he wanted out of this cat-and-mouse game of international espionage.
He longed for a normal life. Or at least as normal as any gay man's life could be. Did he even know what normal was anymore? Probably not, if he ever did.
What would he do now that he'd seen the world from the inside out: not the bank, but the money-laundering cartel that bribed the bank's president to overlook its activities; not the accident victim lying crumpled on the side of the road, but the conspiracy behind her death that had already led to at least two others? Where do y
ou turn after seeing the world without protective glasses?
He'd been warned he would hit this wall sooner or later. Everyone does, he was told. Once you've put on your safety belt, you can't stop the ride, they'd said. You began to see things you might not want not to see, things you'd never forget. Your mind stretched to accommodate facts it never imagined possible, if it imagined them at all. And suddenly all of life seemed up for reassessment. You couldn't trust anything you'd ever assumed or relied on.
This was the frame of mind Bradford was in when the phone rang. He grabbed it in the middle of the first ring.
"It's Grace, Red. I understand you've had a bit of trouble down there."
"You could say that."
"I'm sorry to hear about Ruby."
"She's going to be missed by a lot of people," he said, suddenly thinking of his own father. "She was the kind of person who becomes a fixture in other people's lives."
"Obviously she wasn't the one..."
"I never thought she was."
"So you said. I wish I'd believed you."
"And I wish I'd listened to you. Ruby might still be alive today..."
"You were doing your job."
"Not last night. I stepped out of line..."
She stopped him. "Listen to me, Red. There are no rulebooks for what we do. Every day brings new decisions.Tough decisions. No one can tell you what's right and what's wrong. You have to trust your gut and do what you feel is right. Otherwise you'll be the one who ends up dead. It's the same for you and for me and for all of us, every single day."
She was trying to convince him what he'd done wasn't wrong. She'd guessed at his fragile state of mind and knew he needed bolstering more than he deserved reprimanding for having ignored an order.
"Ruby knew something about someone. Even if you hadn't been there, that person would have figured it out sooner or later. It had nothing to do with you personally. Do you understand that?"
Brad hesitated. Could he afford to believe it? He had to.
"Sometimes you've got to take risks to get things done," Grace went on. "And sometimes you're going to think that those risks aren't worth it, but they are. You're much too valuable for us to lose, Red. Do you hear what I'm saying?"
P'town Murders: A Bradford Fairfax Murder Mystery Page 18
