by Dorien Grey
Gary sat forward in his chair again.
“That’s ridiculous. I didn’t kill that hooker! I swear!”
I decided that now would be a good time to switch the subject.
“And nobody has accused you of it,” I said. “Let’s not start jumping to any conclusions. But like water running downhill, the police tend to take the most obvious route. They want a suspect, and you’re one of the most likely. Let’s just wait to see what they ask you and where they think they’re going with this. You can ask for Glen O’Banyon any time you want, but I’d probably wait until you thought it was necessary. You don’t want to give the cops any reason to think you’re covering anything up, and if you asked for O’Banyon the minute you walk in the door, they’d take that as a sure sign you felt you needed a lawyer.”
Gary shrugged again. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He got up from his chair suddenly. “I could use a cup of coffee,” he said. “I’ve got a pot in the kitchen. You want some?”
“Sure,” I said, getting up to follow him and appreciating the break in the conversation.
The kitchen, just off the dining room, was straight out of the set of a TV cooking show. Everything you could ever imagine a kitchen having, Gary’s had. Designer pots and pans, the kind I very much doubted he’d picked up at K-Mart, hung from hooks above the chopping-block counter next to the island stove, everything gleaming and spotless and obviously top of the line. Gary not only liked nice things, he had them.
He took two coffee mugs from a built-in rack under a cabinet and poured coffee from one of those fancy black, intricate-looking German coffee-makers.
“Cream and sugar?” he asked, and I shook my head.
“No, thanks.”
“A man after my own heart.”
Under other circumstances…quite possibly, I thought.
Handing me one of the mugs, he said, “Shall we go back into the living room or sit in here?”
“Here’s fine,” I said, and we went over to the small table near the window.
Once we were seated, our coffee mugs in front of us, Gary slid forward in his chair, leaned forward, and put his elbows on the edge of the table. We drank our coffee in silence for a minute or two, looking out the window at a bank of dark clouds tumbling slowly in from the west.
I had the feeling Gary was deliberately staying silent, waiting for me to make the first move, so I did.
“Now, about you and Matt,” I said.
Gary continued to stare out at the rolling clouds.
“I told you, I really don’t want to talk about it.” Then he turned those marvelous sea-green eyes to me. “And I don’t want to be rude, but it just isn’t any of your business.”
“You’re right,” I said, wrapping my hand around the coffee mug and feeling its warmth. “It isn’t any of my business. But I’m pretty sure the police will consider it their business, so you can talk to me now and maybe let me come up with some ideas of how to help you, because you can be sure you’ll be talking to the police later. I’m sure they’ll have found out about Matt by now, and I’d be willing to bet he’ll be number two on their likely-candidates list. They’re going to be very tempted to lay all three murders squarely at your feet. Or Matt’s.”
“Well,” he said, looking at me steadily, “If I had a choice…”
“You think Matt could have done it? Even the prostitute?”
He gave a dismissive shrug.
“I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
“I thought you said Matt was strictly gay,” I said, not a little disturbed, although I guess not really surprised, by his willingness to turn on his former…
Were they ever lovers or not?
He raised one eyebrow slightly.
“You know that, and I know that…” Sort of, my mind added, “but as far as the police are concerned, I’d imagine they might reason that Matt’s got kids, therefore Matt fucks women, therefore he can’t be all gay, therefore…”
He was right, of course. If I’d thought I was pretty dense when it comes to the subject of bisexuality, imagine how it is for the cops. Not one in a hundred has a clue.
Gary just shrugged again and took another sip of coffee.
“Look, Gary,” I said, “I can’t do very much to help you until I know everything we’re dealing with. I don’t handle surprises well, and frankly, I suspect you and Matt have quite a few little surprises lying around.”
Gary gave a deep sigh and settled back in his chair, index finger hooked around the handle of his coffee mug. Still looking at me, he slowly chewed his lower lip a moment before beginning.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But that’s not my problem. Matt is.”
“Meaning?” I said.
He set his coffee down and looked at me, long and hard.
“Okay, you want the whole story?”
I nodded.
He got up and went to get the coffee pot, which he brought to the table and refilled his cup. He looked at my cup and raised an eyebrow, and I put my hand over it to indicate I’d had enough. I suspected the last thing I was going to need would be something else eating at the lining of my stomach.
He returned the pot and came back to sit down. Cupping his hands around his mug, he leaned forward again, his forearms on the table.
“Matt and I were in the same class at boot camp. We met on the bus taking us to the base, as a matter of fact, and we had a little chance to talk before we got there. We sort of hit it off right away, but I could tell even then he had some serious attitude problems. He didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d take shit from anybody, and I was right.
“Sure enough, the first night in the barracks, he got in an argument with another guy in our class over who had to take the top bunk, and Matt started to beat the shit out of the guy. I managed to pull him off just before the drill instructor came storming into the room, and the guy said he’d fallen out of his bunk. The DI didn’t believe it for a minute, of course, but he couldn’t prove anything, and a good, healthy fight proves you’re a real man. The other guys in the barracks got the message pretty quick, and nobody messed with Matt after that.
“There were a couple more instances within the first week or two where Matt was about two inches away from being tossed into the brig or out of the Corps. He was smart enough never to try anything with the drill instructors or other NCOs, but with the other guys…
“I could tell it was only a matter of time until he got in real trouble, so I sort of took him under my wing and tried to teach him how to get what he wanted with words rather than fists. He was a pretty fast learner.”
He paused, whether to wait for me to respond or to figure out what to say next I couldn’t tell. So, I opted to jump in.
“And how did you…find out about each other?” I asked.
Gary gave me a small smile.
“Well, it didn’t exactly take a burning bush. I was certain about Matt within ten minutes of meeting him on the bus. He was just too damned butch not to be gay. Of course I have to admit that even I assumed he was bi. He’d showed me pictures of his kids while we were still on the bus.
“On our first weekend liberty, I asked Matt to go into town with me. I don’t think any of the other guys wanted to risk being around him with that temper of his. We got a cheap hotel room then set out to hit the bars and do our duty as marines to get drunk out of our minds. At one of the hooker bars, a couple of the working girls were at the table with us, and things were going along fine. I suggested the four of us go back to our hotel room, but Matt backed out. The girl he was with said the usual ‘What’s the matter, honey, don’t you like girls?’ and Matt said ‘Shit, yes, I like girls. But I’ve got the clap, and I don’t think you want to share it with me.’ He didn’t look at me, he didn’t bat an eye.”
Gary grinned. “I knew damned well he couldn’t have clap—this was our first liberty, and it would have been caught during his induction physical and he wouldn’t have gotten into the corps.”
He glanced at me a couple of times, looking for something which I hope he didn’t find. Finally, he picked up where he’d left off.
“The girl he was with just picked up her drink, got up, and left. I suggested to the one I was with that maybe she and I should go check out the hotel, and she agreed. I told Matt I’d meet up with him in a couple hours back at the room, and we left. I was pretty hot to go, and it didn’t take more than ten minutes for her and me to finish our business.
“Not two minutes after she left, Matt came in. I think now he was probably standing in the hallway all the time she and I were in the room, just waiting for her to go. He came in, asked how it went, and I was very careful to give him a detailed account, watching him as he got undressed for bed and seeing his reaction. It sure wasn’t hard to miss.”
He looked at me again, smiled, and said, “So, one thing led to another, and we ended up spending the rest of the weekend in bed together.”
“Interesting.”
Gary stood, picked up our coffee mugs and took them to the sink.
“Oh, that’s not the best part,” he said, and this time I took the bait.
“No?”
He rinsed out the mugs, and with his back to me, I heard him chuckle.
“Nope. A week later, both Matt and I came down with the clap! The hooker gave it to me, and I gave it to him. He wasn’t mad, though—it cemented our reputations as cocksmen with the rest of the guys in the barracks. I’m sure not one of them had a clue as to what was really going on.”
Drying his hands on a dishtowel on a rack by the sink, he turned toward me.
“I’ve got to start getting ready for the interview before too long,” he said. “You want to continue this conversation in the living room…or the bedroom?”
Shit! He reads you like a book, my mind said. Don’t give in! Show some backbone!
“Bedroom’s fine,” I said.
You idiot!
*
As we sat on opposite sides of the bed getting dressed, I said, “You were saying…?”
“Matt again, huh?”
“Yep.” If he thought a roll in the hay—one of the better ones in recent memory, I might add—was going to dissuade me from getting everything I needed regarding their relationship, he was wrong.
Gary stood up, hoisting his pants over his hips, still not looking at me.
“Okay, Reader’s Digest version. We became an item. More of an item to Matt than to me, I soon found out, but I’d been up front with him right from the very start, and it didn’t bother him. There are bi’s who are what you might call serial bi’s; they’ll go for long stretches being exclusively with one sex then switch over to the other for a while. That’s not me, and Matt knew it.
“I think he thought I’d see the error of my ways and decide he was enough for me, and that we could…I don’t know…
“Matt’s not a white picket fence-type guy, but I think that was basically the gist of it. For someone who’d never really had much stability in his life or anybody who really gave a shit about him, I guess it’s understandable.
“Don’t get me wrong—I really dug Matt. We got along great. We had what I thought was a perfect relationship—he was there when I wanted a guy, and when I wanted a woman, I’d just go get one. Matt never said a word.
“After boot camp, we spent the rest of our tour of duty stationed at Camp Pendleton. About a week before we got out, Matt’s old man died, and he got early release. We’d talked several times—well, actually, Matt talked about it more than I did—about our maybe staying together after the service, but by the time we got out, I was beginning to feel a little…well…hemmed in. I decided to go back to Nebraska to try to make it in the insurance business.
“We kept in touch; he’d call me a couple times a week wanting us to move somewhere together. I’d about had it with Nebraska, and I really sort of missed him.”
We finished dressing, and I followed him into the living room as he kept talking.
“Then I found Iris and called Matt to come out and join me in Vegas. That was my big mistake.”
“How so?” I asked.
He motioned me to a seat, but I shook my head. I knew it was about time for him to head down to police headquarters.
“Almost as soon as we hooked up in Vegas, Matt started getting a little too…well, clingy, for want of a better word. When I’d go out and pick up a woman, he wouldn’t say anything, but it was pretty clear he didn’t approve. He actually followed me a couple times, thought I didn’t know it, but I did. I swear one night he was standing on the fire escape, watching us through the window.”
If he was expecting a reaction to that one, he got it, although I tried not to let it show.
“Then we moved from Vegas to here, and Iris and Arnold started ModelMen, and it just kept getting worse. Again, he never said anything when I’d go out with women—he’s not the kind of guy to sulk or pout—but I could sense it. I felt like the life was being squeezed out of me.
“He always knew monogamy just isn’t my thing with either sex, but he never really accepted it. I think it was his frustration with me that made him go too far with that client. And when he got fired, and I didn’t stand up for him, that about did it.
“We’d just been getting ready to move in here—again, Matt’s idea—and we had already started moving some stuff in, as a matter of fact, and I told him it would be better for both of us if we just cut our ties and called it quits. He sure as hell wasn’t happy about it; it was quite a show.
“So I moved out, but he just won’t let it go! I swear he’s been following me around, just like that time outside the window in Vegas.”
He gave a slight shudder then suddenly smiled.
“I do miss the sex, though,” he said. “Matt’s great in bed, which I imagine you’ve found out for yourself.”
That one came out of left field, but I suspected it fit in somehow with his need to control the situation by putting me off-balance. I hoped to hell my face didn’t show he’d succeeded.
“Your place or his?” he asked, again from left field.
“I’m not sure…” I started to say.
“If it was yours, you should make a close check of your belongings.”
I wasn’t able to keep my eyebrows from moving toward one another in a combination of question and surprise.
“Meaning what?”
Gary grinned. “Matt likes to collect things from guys he goes to bed with. You see his ashtray collection? Usually nothing big, although he did give me a Rolex he got from a trick once, before we started with ModelMen. It’s just one of his little quirks, left over from his days of stealing candy when he was a kid. His old man never let him have candy, so he’d take it.”
I filed that away in my mental trivia drawer and looked at my own watch, which definitely wasn’t a Rolex.
“Well,” I said, “I’d better get going. Thanks for a really interesting afternoon.”
He walked me to the door, and we shook hands before he opened it, his sea-green eyes never leaving mine.
“My pleasure,” he said. “Feel free to come by anytime you have a…question.”
I nodded, smiled, and went out into the hall.
The hunky painter was just emerging from the drop-clothed apartment, heading for the freight elevator. He looked at me, smiled, and subtly ran his hand down to his crotch. I was tempted to ride down with him, maybe press the stop button between floors and…?
Instead, I pressed the down button on the passenger elevator and deliberately avoided looking back at the painter.
Now that’s progress! my mind voice said proudly.
No, my crotch answered, that’s stupidit
y.
Chapter 13
Well, so much for Gary’s side of the story, I thought as I headed back to the office. Now it’s Matt’s turn. I neatly managed to ignore the fact that once again I might very well have just had sex with a murderer. I was getting pretty good at that.
I was hoping, when I walked into the office, to find a message from Matt, and sure enough.
I called him back immediately without even sitting down. I was about ready for his answering machine to kick in when he picked up.
“Matt, hi. It’s Dick Hardesty.”
“Dick, yeah,” he said. “I was kind of surprised to get your message. Is this business or personal?”
“Business, I’m afraid.”
Yeah, like that’s ever stopped you! my little voice sneered.
“Ah, too bad. What have I done now?”
I tried to sound a bit more casual than I felt.
“I really need to talk with you as soon as possible. Have you by any chance heard from the police?”
“The police? Why would I be hearing from the…” There was a brief pause, then: “Oh.”
“I’m afraid so,” I said. “Can I come over there, or do you want to come to my office?”
“Sure,” he said. “Come on over. I probably should stay around and wait for a phone call from the fuzz. Or will they be coming to batter down my door and haul me away in handcuffs?”
I laughed—a bit forced, but I laughed.
“Nothing that dramatic, I’m sure. But I expect they’ll want very much to talk with you, and it would be a good idea if you and I talked first.”
“Whatever you say,” he said. “I’ll see you when you get here.”
“Twenty minutes, tops,” I replied. We exchanged quick goodbyes, and I headed back out the door.
*
I’d no sooner touched the button in the alcove of Matt’s apartment building when the lock buzzed open. He had his apartment door open even before I reached it. He looked mildly worried.
“They called,” he said as he motioned me into the living room, closing the door behind me. “They wanted me to come in at nine tomorrow morning, but I told them I’ve got a Bleeker’s catalog shoot from six a.m. to at least noon. So they made it two-thirty at the City Building Annex. I left ModelMen quite a while before all this started. I don’t really know what I could tell them.”
