by Thom Collins
****
That morning, Dale had a rare opportunity to experience what it was like to be a regular dad. He was there for breakfast with his son, over which he helped Jack complete the homework he’d been too excited to do the evening before. He got to nag him gently about loading the dishwasher afterward and about brushing his teeth properly. The icing on the cake was Laura asking him to run Jack to school.
“You’d be doing me a big favor,” she said, getting her youngest ready for the child minder. “I’ve got a meeting at nine. There’s no way I’ll make it.”
Dale was delighted. “Go ahead. I’d love to do it.”
In the car, Jack jabbered excitedly about the football match he was due to play that weekend. “Can you come to watch, Dad? It would be so cool if you could.”
Dale was overwhelmed with love for his son. Last night he’d made the big announcement, telling Jack just who he was, and the kid had taken the news without a trace of misgiving.
“I knew that already,” Jack had admitted. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me.” All of this time he’d been worrying—for nothing.
“I can’t make any promises,” Dale said regretfully. “I’d love to be around to watch you play, but the truth is, I don’t know what today is going to bring. If things kick off, like I suspect they might, then I want to get as far away as possible from you guys. I don’t want awful reporters stalking out your house, or your soccer game. You understand, don’t you?”
“How many times, Dad? It’s football,” Jack said with a playful groan, “Football. Nobody calls it soccer over here.”
“When I get off this show, I guess you’ll just have to take me to a few games and educate me all about football.”
They both laughed.
Dale’s good mood lasted for all of five minutes. Until he said goodbye to Jack at the school gate. His phone rang as he navigated the traffic back to town. It was his British agent, David. A straight-talking Londoner who’d been in the business over forty years.
“Where are you?” David barked through the car’s speakers.
“On a school run. Heading back to my ex-wife’s house.”
“Well, I guess you probably know this already but the shit has hit the fan. I’ve had reporters on the phone since I got in at seven. All they want to ask about is you.”
“Fuck!”
“It’s a fucker all right. But what do you want to do about it?”
“They’re asking the obvious question?”
“Obviously,” David drawled.
It was finally happening. The moment he’d dreaded for his entire career. Surprisingly, Dale was okay about it. There was nothing to fear. No humiliation. He’d cleared things with the people who were important to him. What was the worst that could happen now?
“Okay, tell them the truth. Let’s put out a statement. Tell the world Dale Zachary plays for the other team.” He laughed. “Wow. It feels good to say it after all this time. I am gay.”
“Want me to do it? All official.”
“Shit, no. I’ll do it myself. Is there anything in today’s papers?”
“No. But there will be tomorrow,” David said.
“Okay. I’m going to head back to Durham. If they come chasing me for a picture or a story, I don’t want my family caught up in it. I’ll decide how I want to word it and make a statement on Facebook this afternoon. Do you mind holding them off until then?”
“Not a bit. If you ask me, you should have done this years back,” David said confidently.
“Why are you telling me this now?” Dale laughed.
“’Cause you never wanted to hear it before.”
****
“Someone must have seen something.”
What was wrong with these people? Didn’t anyone have eyes? Keeley had never encountered a film crew so short on gossip, so oblivious to what was going on right beneath their noses.
She met with Donna Bradey and Luisa Capaldi, two of the main makeup assistants on Blood Falls on Stone at the Honest Lawyer Hotel, a couple of miles south of Durham. She had promised them a full three-course lunch with wine in exchange for a shitload of gossip from the set. Two courses into the meal and the painted dollies had failed to deliver anything she didn’t already know. These bitches had better sing before lunch was over or they’d regret it.
Donna was in her early fifties but dressed like a woman thirty years younger and five stone lighter. Her hair was a dyed red-brown color and bolstered by dozens of hairpieces in shades that no way matched. She put her orange foundation on with a trowel, before caking various shades of red, purple and gold on top. Spidery eyelashes and glossy purple lipstick completed the look. The average drag queen would think she had gone too far.
Next to her, Luisa looked like full-on tranny road kill. Her hair was white blonde, with cheap extensions that had also been embellished with awful hairpieces to create a shoddy bird’s nest look. Her makeup comprised of shades of red, white and blue. With an emaciated frame and horsey features, she looked like a juvenile Russian hooker.
Keeley surmised they had made the effort to look nice on her account. If they turned up for work looking like this, no sane actor would let them near their face with a makeup brush.
“Well, I guess, like, Aaron did spend a lot of time in Dale’s trailer around lunch,” Donna said in a ghastly Geordie accent.
“He was Dale’s assistant,” Keeley pointed out. “Was there anything unusual in that?”
“Suppose not.”
“Did anyone ever comment on them spending time together?”
“Not really.”
Jesus. What a fucking waste of time this was turning out to be. “Did either of you know Aaron personally?”
“I worked with him before,” Luisa piped in. “Couple of years ago on a movie. The Passion of Rosemary. Did you see it?”
“Never heard of it. Tell me about Aaron.”
“Oh,” Luisa said vaguely, pouring the last of the second bottle of wine into her glass. “He was all right. A nice guy. He was seeing one of the department heads back then.”
“A man?”
“Yes, a fella.”
“You never told me that,” Donna said, wide-eyed, as if she’d just been privy to a huge revelation.
“Well, there was nothing much to tell. They came to a couple of crew meals together and the wrap party and that was about it. I didn’t have anything to do with them.”
“Ladies,” Keeley said firmly. “This isn’t enough. I’m writing about Dale Zachary and you’re not giving me the slightest scrap to go on.”
She saw the sudden panic in their eyes as they realized a refill on that empty bottle of wine might not be forthcoming. They looked at each other, searching their tiny minds.
“What was it Jess from wardrobe said the other day?” Donna asked Luisa.
Luisa chewed an acrylic nail, thinking hard. “Oh, erm… What was it again? Something about Aaron.”
“Yes,” Donna said brightly, eyes suddenly very wide. “That was it. Jess said she’d thought for a while that there might have been something going on between Aaron and Dale. She was friends with Aaron, you see.”
“Did he confide in her?”
“Not so much. He never came out and told her he was shagging Dale or anything, she just got the impression that there was something going on.”
“Yes,” Luisa said, waving a taloned finger. “And Jess said Aaron had been down for the last few days, before he, you know, died. She thought that whatever might have been happening had come to an end. You know, like Dale had finished it or something.”
“Why did he do that?”
“Dunno.”
These idiots were useless. Keeley had had enough. “All right. It sounds like I need to speak to this Jess. Where can I find her?”
“You can’t. We’
ve been stood down till Monday,” Donna said. “As soon as she heard, Jess went home. She’s got a kid, you see. It was a nice chance to spend some time with it. She won’t be back till late on Sunday.”
Keeley took a deep breath. Control, Keeley, keep a lid on it. “Do you have a phone number? Some way I could reach her?”
The makeup women pulled out their mobiles and swiped through their contacts.
“I haven’t got it,” Donna said.
“Me neither,” Luisa replied.
“Do you think you could get it?” Keeley asked carefully.
“Let’s order desserts and then we’ll ring round a few people. I’m sure someone can get it for us.” Donna reached for the menu. “Could we get a dessert and a cheese board?”
****
Jamie drove to Bishop Auckland, a rural town twelve miles south of Durham. Like many places, the old market town was clearly divided into the haves and the have-nots. When he’d first joined the force, Jamie was stationed here for a while and got to know the have-not areas very well. From the market place, a visitor would see it as a picture-perfect rural town, but they would only have to travel a mile up the road to encounter the rundown estates that housed the drug dealers, the addicts, the wife beaters, alcoholics and professional criminals who resided there.
Jamie hated the place. Every minute he spent working there, he counted time to his next assignment. He always remembered the words of an old detective he used to work with. “When the UK takes a shit, it eventually washes up in Bishop Auckland.”
Fortunately today he was heading toward Durham Road and the affluent side of town. Four and five-bedroom detached houses, set back behind high hedges and long drives. The only time he’d had cause to visit this area when he was stationed here was when one of the mansions overlooking the golf course got knocked off. The incompetent thieves were caught three days later trying to offload their goods at the pawnbrokers.
Jamie was in a better mood today.
Matt was moving on. He didn’t like it but it didn’t hurt as much today as it had yesterday. The fact that Matt was fucking the American actor stuck in his throat, but there was nothing he could do to stop them. He’d been involved in enough late-night calls when ex-partners refused to believe things were over. It almost always ended in violence and certainly in bitterness. He didn’t want to go there. It would be fruitless and likely to fuck up his personal and professional life. No. It wasn’t easy, but when he woke up that morning he finally realized it was time to draw a line under the whole relationship.
It was history.
Maybe when this case was over, and he had a little more free time, he would think about dating again. Getting back out there. Perhaps join a dating site—a decent one, not one of those sleaze-fests for sluts and cheating married men. He wanted to find a nice guy. Someone with an understanding of what he did. Another copper would be an idea, but there were far too few of them out at work ever to make that viable.
Still, it would be nice to get out there, go on a few dates and hopefully meet someone new.
Jamie arrived at the address, pulling on to the drive of a nice-looking property on the modest end of Durham Road. It might not be as grand the neighboring houses but it sure beat anything on the other side of town. He killed the engine and got out just as the front door was opened by a good-looking, slightly heavy, bearded man in his thirties.
Jamie approached with his ID raised. “Barney Kilofer?”
“It’s Barney Kilofer-James,” the man answered. “Tony and I are married.”
Married! Jamie would never get used to that. “Detective Constable Jamie Dench.”
Barney Kilofer-James looked him over, seemed to decide he was nothing to get excited about and invited him in. The hallway had a beautiful dark wooden floor and a staircase that rose to large airy landing. The house was tastefully decorated. There were fresh flowers in a vase on the dresser and the aroma of strong coffee. Jamie was impressed. It was exactly the kind of house he used to imagine Matt and him living in one day.
Shit. There he was again. Matt, creeping into his thoughts. He must stop that.
“Come through to the kitchen,” Barney said. “I’ve made cheese scones and coffee. I hope you’re hungry. Tony is at work. It won’t be a problem with just me, will it?”
“No problem at all. All I’m here to do is take a statement from you. If we have any questions we can contact your, er…husband later.”
“I can’t see how he could tell you anything more than I can. We barely got to know the guy.” He poured two cups of coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Both please.” Jamie sat at the breakfast bar while Barney set out the coffee and a plate of freshly buttered scones. “Help yourself. They’re still warm and that’s the best time to eat them.”
Jamie thanked him and took a bite. Delicious. When he eventually signed up to that dating site he would look for a man who could cook too. Matt had been a horror in the kitchen. Every meal they ever ate came from a tin, jar or takeaway.
“So,” he said, washing the scones down with the expensive-tasting coffee. “You called to say you knew Aaron Oxford.”
Barney looked suddenly bashful. “We didn’t know him exactly. We didn’t even know his surname name was Oxford. But when it came up on the news, Tony and I realized that we might be among the last people to see him alive. We thought we’d better come forward, if only to rule ourselves out.”
“So when did you see him last?”
“Sunday afternoon.”
“And that was…where?”
“Here. Aaron came here. Well, not strictly true. We picked him up in Durham and brought him here, but it was all arranged in advance. He didn’t drive, you see, and these country bus routes are such a drag, especially on Sunday. So we thought it best if we went to meet him.”
“I understand. So Aaron came here for…sex?”
Barney grimaced and looked into his coffee. “It sounds tacky when you put it as bluntly as that, but yes. He came round for a shag.”
“Had he been here before?”
“Only once. About three weeks ago. He hadn’t been in the area long and was trawling around online, looking to meet new people. He caught our eye and we sent him a message. It was Tony’s idea. I didn’t think we’d stand a chance, if I’m honest. He was too good-looking for us, but, I don’t know, maybe he was lonely. He sent a nice reply and said he’d love to come round.”
“Did he tell you he was lonely? That he was looking to meet people?”
“Not lonely exactly. That’s more like the impression I got of him. He told us he was in the area for work and didn’t know anyone outside of that. We didn’t know what he did. Didn’t even ask, which is terrible really. Taking someone to bed without knowing anything about them. I think we might have been the first guys he met round here, you know, for sex.”
“He told you that?”
“I think so. Can’t remember the exact words, but it was something along those lines. Again, this was just an impression, but I felt he wasn’t the type to go whoring round. Not like some of these pigs. We’ve brought guys back who’ve been searching for their next shag before they’re even out the door. But I think with Aaron, the Grindr thing was just a way to meet new people. It wasn’t all about sex.”
Interesting. Everything they had learned suggested that Aaron was not the typical, promiscuous risk taker. He was having his fun but not in any excessive way. Nothing that should bring him into the path of an opportunistic predator. But somehow it had.
“Did he tell you anything about his lifestyle? About men he might have met, or was planning to? Any unwanted attention his profile attracted?”
“Absolutely nothing. Nothing I can remember anyway. We didn’t do a lot of talking,” Barney said bashfully. “The first time we met, we picked him up from outside a gym in town. He’d been working out and wanted to
use the shower before, you know. Then the next time, he was waiting at a bus stop along by the university. He was alone both times and didn’t mention anyone else. I’m sorry, Officer Dexter, but I think I might have wasted your time in coming here. There’s really not a lot I can tell you about the poor man.”
****
Everything had happened too quickly today, Matt barely had time to catch his breath. Work had been nonstop. Rushing from court, to meetings, to client appointments. In between he took several short phone calls from Dale, who was on the motorway heading back to Durham after just one night away. What a night though. Everything had changed, including Dale. His joy was infectious.
“I can’t believe how happy I feel,” he said. “No more secrets or worrying about what people will say. I’m free. Free to be with you. I want you to be a part of this.”
Even though he couldn’t see it, Matt’s smile was a mile wide. “I’m going to be there for you, you know that. We’re in it together. What time will you get here? I can’t wait to see you. Want to come to my place?”
“Maybe you should come to mine,” Dale said. “I might be overestimating the press interest in this, but just in case there are any reporters or photographers looking for me, I don’t want to bring them to your door. What would the neighbors say?”
“Oh, my neighbors would love it. They don’t need much excuse to get their curtains twitching.”
“Well, I’ve got something else that’s twitching.”
They laughed. “Okay, I’ll come to yours.” It suddenly occurred to Matt that in their short but intense relationship he hadn’t ever been to Dale’s place. “Hey, I don’t know where you live.”
“I’ll text you the postcode. Come as soon as you can. Straight from work.”
“I’ll go home to change first.”
“No. Don’t do that. I want to see you in your smart lawyer suit. Then tear it off you.”
It was only later, as he hurried his last client out of his office, dying to get to Dale’s, that Matt remembered he had another commitment. Clint was expecting him at his gym for his raffle donation. Conrad’s charity function was tomorrow night. He needed that prize. But even if he collected if from Clint, how was he going to get it to Conrad in time, especially if Dale’s doorstep was under siege by photographers?
