Subtle Deceit

by R. A. McGee

  Sitting on the bed, half-eaten pizza between them, were Jamie and Sarah Duncan.

  Porter stared at the pair, and before he could speak, Jamie threw his slice at him. Porter moved his head aside and followed as Jamie ran into the bathroom, attempting to shut the door. Porter shouldered through the cheap door, grabbing Jamie by the scruff of his t-shirt and hurling him onto the bed.

  Sarah was screaming the entire time about the invasion of privacy and assault.

  “I’m not a cop. I can’t invade your privacy. It’s called something else when a private citizen does this,” Porter said.

  Jamie saw Porter talking to his sister, and tried to make a break for the door, but Porter slipped a large arm around his waist and halted his progress. Then Porter wrapped two arms around Jamie’s neck and squeezed until the younger man went limp.

  Porter laid him gently on the bed.

  “What did you do to him?” Sarah said.

  “He’s just taking a little nap. He’ll wake up in a minute or two. I couldn’t deal with him running around and you yelling at the same time. Too much noise. One of you two needed to knock it off. Better him than you, right?”

  Porter looked at the front door. Remarkably, it hadn’t busted off its cheap hinges, so he could basically close it, but it wouldn’t click into place and lock. No matter.

  He motioned for Sarah to sit next to her brother and pulled up a blocky wooden chair to the foot of the bed, between the siblings and the front door. There was a window to the street, but no fast way to get out.

  Sarah rubbed her brother’s head, speaking to him softly as he woke. He was wild-eyed but motionless while she assured him she was there and he was all right.

  Helping Jamie to a seated position, Porter got a good look at his quarry, noting that his hair was different than in the photo Porter had of him. The young man had two black eyes, just beginning to turn green. His skin was gray and sallow and he had a split lip, but he appeared to be a good-looking kid despite his damaged face.

  “Jamie?”

  “Yeah,” Jamie said, eyes focusing on Porter.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “You the guy that talked to my sister? She said you were some big black guy. Said you helped her out on the street with those assholes that live near her.”

  “That sounds about right. You want to know why I want to talk to you?”

  “Wait, how did you even find me?” Jamie said. “Did you tell him, sis?”

  “No, Jamie, I didn’t tell him anything. I pretended like I didn’t know anything. I don’t know how he found us.”

  “Don’t be mad at her. She tried to run interference for you,” Porter said. “That’s irrelevant, though. What matters is, I’m here and I wanna talk to you.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” Jamie said. “Just get out of my room.”

  “Not gonna happen. Not until you tell me what I want to know. If I believe you, I’ll leave you alone.”

  “No shit?” Jamie said.

  “No shit.”

  “What happens if you don’t believe me?”

  “Just do your best to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Porter said.

  “Can I talk to my sister first?”

  “Sure.” Porter sat unmoving in the wooden chair, staring at the pair.

  “Alone?” Jamie said.

  “Not a chance. You two feel free to talk this thing out,” Porter said.

  Sarah shot Porter a look, then turned back to Jamie. “Listen, baby, I think this is the best. You tell this guy what you told me, and I think he’ll leave you alone.”

  “He won’t believe me. Nobody believes me. Because I’m me and he’s him,” Jamie said. “He’s the golden boy and I’m just some scumbag from across the bridge.”

  “Him who?” Porter said.

  “Todd. His family has all the money and people believe they’re so good, but I know different. His dad’s a crooked-ass lawyer. Don’t let him fool you.”

  “Wait a minute, Todd who? Todd your fraternity brother?” Porter said.

  “Yeah, that sleazeball. This has to be his fault.”

  “Why?” Porter said.

  Jamie held Porter’s gaze, then looked down. He shook his head no until his sister patted him on the shoulder. He looked at her, then looked back at Porter. “Evanna was pregnant.”

  “Pregnant? That’s news to me. Her parents didn’t tell me,” Porter said.

  “It was news to me too,” Sarah said. “How can your baby brother get a girl pregnant before you’ve even met her?”

  “I know, sis. But once I heard, you were the first person I told. Hell, the only person. Evanna couldn’t even tell her folks. She was scared to. Her dad’s a real fire-and-brimstone, Old-Testament type,” Jamie said. “No telling what he’d do.”

  “Is it yours?”

  “Yes,” Jamie said.

  “We aren’t sure,” Sarah spoke up. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, baby, but it’s true. You have to include that part when you tell people the story. So they know.”

  “You’re right,” Jamie said.

  “Fine,” Porter said rubbing his head. “Whose baby was it?” Porter said.

  “Is it,” Jamie said, red rising in his cheeks.

  “Okay, whose baby is it?” Porter said.

  “I think it’s mine. It could also be Todd’s. They were together for a few months, but they split up and we got together a few days later at a party. I knew she was the one for me.”

  “Dating your fraternity brother’s ex-girlfriend didn’t bother you? Didn’t cause any issues?” Porter said.

  “Why would it? In our circle, it’s impossible to find someone who hasn’t hooked up with someone I know. Why should it bother me? I live in the now. Evanna and I are together now.”

  “If the two of you are together, where is she?” Porter said.

  “Hell if I know. She told me and Todd at the same time. Sat us down in this restaurant and said she was pregnant. I couldn’t have been more excited. Todd wasn’t so happy. Made a big scene. Told her she was a slut and he didn’t want any part of this. He broke a glass and stormed out of the restaurant,” Jamie said.

  “That’s funny, everyone I talked to said you were the hothead. Said when girls broke things off with you, you turned psycho. That if anything happened to Evanna, you would be the prime suspect,” Porter said.

  “You talked to Katie, right? Yeah, that bitch. Stuff ended bad with us, but I’m not a bad guy. I never hit anyone or anything like that. I yell when I get mad. It’s what I do. But I never laid a hand on anyone. Honest.”

  “If you’re so clean then why are you hiding out in this fleabag motel?”

  “Are you serious? The cops are looking for me—you think they want to hear what I have to say? Not a chance. If something happened to Evanna, it’s just a matter of time until someone finds her. Once they do, the cops will nail me to the wall. Besides, the cops are the least of my problems.”

  “Meaning?” Porter said.

  “Todd Jones,” Sarah said.

  “Todd,” Jamie said.

  “What about him?” Porter said.

  “Look at my face, man. Think about it. If he did something to Evanna, what’s to say he won’t do something to me? His family could get away with it. When I went after him at his house—”

  “You went after him at his house? Why?” Porter said.

  “Because he did something to Evanna. Aren’t you listening to me? Evanna’s my girl. Todd did something to her, and I want to know what it is. His dad’s guys beat me up and threw me off the property. I’m surprised they didn’t kill me. They know if I find out, they’re all screwed. They could off me, no problem. Why wouldn’t they? It would shut me up and keep me from finding out the truth,” Jamie said.

  “You’re definitely g
etting closer to the truth hiding out in a hotel,” Porter said.

  Jamie looked at him but decided against speaking.

  “Why don’t you go wash your face or something. Try to wake up. You look like shit,” Porter said.

  Jamie shuffled off to the bathroom.

  “See? He didn’t do anything to that girl. He may have his faults, but I know him. He would never kill anyone,” Sarah said.

  “Then why did you lie to me? I could tell you were lying at the diner. I always can,” Porter said.

  “I’m his sister. I’d do anything to protect him.”

  “He could be full of it, but if so, where’d he get beat up?” Porter said, more to himself than anything.

  “At Todd’s family’s house,” Sarah said.

  “Todd’s family just kicked his ass? Just like that?” Porter said.

  Sarah checked to see that the bathroom door was still shut, then lowered her voice and continued speaking. “Jamie’s convinced that Todd had something to do with Evanna disappearing. He went over there with a knife. I begged him not to, but he wouldn’t listen. He’s lucky he didn’t get killed. They’re not people you can mess with.”

  “You both keep saying that. Who is Todd’s family?” Porter said.

  Sarah lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “His dad’s a lawyer for all these guys in town, connected guys.”

  “You talking about the Mafia? Italians, something like that?”

  “No, Asian. The Japanese Triads, I think.”

  “The Triads are usually Chinese. Japan has the Yakuza,” Porter said.

  “No, these are Japanese guys who are in the Triad. I’ve… worked with some of them. Trust me, they’re bad news.”

  “Why is Todd’s dad involved? He’s just a regular white dude, isn’t he?” Porter said.

  “Yeah, but having a big-time white lawyer is important to them,” Jamie said from the bathroom doorway. His hair was wet and his face was shiny. “I guess they think it’s valuable in the US.”

  “You still look like shit,” Porter said.

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “Listen, just because he’s their lawyer doesn’t mean they’ll help him bury a body,” Porter said. “I’ve had a few lawyers, and I wouldn’t give most of them a cup of water if their head was on fire.”

  “This is different,” Jamie said, sitting next to his sister on the bed. “Todd has a big mouth when he gets drunk. He used to brag that his dad worked closely with these guys. Apparently he grew up with some of them, in their old neighborhood. He knows all their information and they think he’s super valuable to them. If another gang got their hands on Todd’s dad, they would know a bunch of stuff. Dirty secrets, I guess. Since they have history, and he knows so much about their organization, Todd’s dad is always surrounded by some of these guys. Todd thinks it’s cool,” Jamie said.

  “Like Tom Hagen in The Godfather?” Porter said.

  “Who?” Jamie said.

  “You’ve never seen The Godfather? How old are you, anyway?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Damn babies.” Porter stood and checked the front door again, leaning against it. “So you thought it would be a good idea to go over there with a knife? Against some Chinese Triad guys?”

  “Japanese,” Sarah said.

  “Whatever. Those guys don’t play and they definitely aren’t worried about some kid with a knife. They’ll snuff you out like that.” Porter snapped his fingers,

  “Exactly. So just think. Think about how much they love Todd. He’s the jewel in their crown. Good-looking guy, great grades, president of the fraternity. Hell, Todd told me once they want him to run for political office when he gets older. You and I both know they could have killed me. You think they won’t kill some girl who gets pregnant? You think the golden boy can have an illegitimate child and still run for office? I think they killed her, and her body’s in a barrel somewhere. My Evanna.” Jamie cried softly on the bed, head in his hands.

  Sarah put her arm around him and raised her eyebrows at Porter.

  “I would have loved the baby. I would have raised it like my own, even if it was Todd’s. They didn’t have to kill her,” Jamie said.

  Porter leaned against the door. He had a good sense of whether someone was lying to him or not. When Sarah was talking to him at the diner, he’d known she was lying. It wasn’t like some type of psychic or supernatural gift. It was experience borne of years of listening to people give him bullshit stories. Everyone lied, all the time. Except now. It wasn’t the tears, —some people can manufacture those at will. It wasn’t the sobs. It was the whole demeanor. The way he sagged into his sister, the words he said. Jamie hadn’t done anything to Evanna.

  “Fine. Let’s say I believe you. How can I talk to Todd, without dealing with Chinese gangsters?” Porter said.

  “Japanese.”

  “Whatever,” Porter said.

  “Todd lives at the fraternity house. I can give you his parents’ address too,” Jamie said between sobs.

  “Are you going to help us?” Sarah said.

  “Not especially,” Porter said. “I’m still looking for Evanna Blanchard and I have a deadline. If Jamie didn’t do it, then there’s someone else I need to find. If me finding that person helps you out in some way, then so be it. Beyond that, you two are on your own. You got a phone?”

  Sarah dug into her purse and handed it to Porter.

  He dialed his own number and let it ring once in his pocket. “There, now I have your number and you have mine. Give me a call if Jamie thinks of anything else.”

  Porter was careful with the door on the way out.

  Chapter 6

  Porter stopped at an all-night drug store and bought a bottle of Lysol. He drove back across the bridge, finding what looked to him like a nice hotel. The person behind the counter was much more accommodating than Frank at the Imperial had been. He got his room key and shouldered his small bag up the stairs with him.

  The room was clean but spartan: a bed, nightstand, and a dresser with a television on it. Nothing else.

  Porter sprayed most of the bottle of Lysol on the bed and various surfaces of the room and bathroom. He used a spare towel to pick up the remote and phone and shut them in the dresser.

  He had once seen a documentary where a team of researchers went into a sampling of hotel and motel rooms with a black light. Their results had horrified him. The amount of fecal matter on surfaces like the remote and room phone was enough to sicken him. That documentary had changed him, and now he took no chances on getting someone else’s shit in his ear.

  He was also sure that in most hotel rooms, a bottle of water spilled on the floor would re-animate gallons of dried sperm, causing carpet babies to be born.

  Porter stood under the shower nozzle until the hot water ran out, then exited the stall, slipping his wet feet into his Chuck Taylors, standing in front of the mirror for a few moments.

  No one would call him fat, but he wasn’t built like he used to be. Still large and athletic, he was getting much softer around the edges than he would like. Too many days on the road, bad food, and not enough time at the gym lifting heavy things.

  He sat on the bed with only a towel on. The conversation with Mrs. Blanchard played in his head. He couldn’t imagine her level of grief.

  Not exactly.

  Picking up his phone, Porter used his thumb to unlock it and went to his contacts list. He wished the number was in his recently dialed list, but these days there was no reason for it to be.

  His thumb hovered over the call button long enough for the phone to lock itself.

  Porter unlocked the phone, pulled up the number, and dropped his thumb.

  The phone rang and rang.

  Voicemail picked up. A familiar female voice. “Hey, it’s me. I’m busy or I’m out or I don’t lik
e you enough to pick up. Either way, you should go ahead and leave a message.” There was a beep.

  Porter hesitated and considered hanging up.

  Don’t hang up, you’ll look desperate.

  He cleared his throat. “Hey Trish, it’s me. Long time. Hey look, I was doing this thing today and it made me think of you. I wanted to call and see how you were. Hope you’re doing okay. Bye.”

  He thumbed the red button, ending the call. He held it for a moment, then put it down.

  Hope you’re doing okay? Stupid. Oh well. It’s sent.

  He dug through his bag and pulled out a pair of the workout shorts he favored sleeping in. Then he checked the locks to make sure they were engaged and fell asleep. He dreamt of fraternity brothers, Japanese gangsters, and a pretty nurse with freckles who wouldn’t speak to him anymore.

  —

  The next morning, after another shower, Porter vacated the room, crammed himself back into the rental car and returned to the college campus.

  The fraternity house looked different. Smaller somehow, as if, with no partygoers, the place had shrunk. Porter tried the door. It was unlocked.

  He let himself in, walking through the hall of trophies and fraternity propaganda, surveying the open area where the DJ had been. There were young men in various stages of undress, from fully clothed down to boxer shorts, sprawled out on the couches and floor. The room reeked of old beer and someone had vomited in the base of a fake plant. There was an unsurprising lack of girls.

  He shook a fraternity brother, sleeping upright in an ancient leather chair.

  “Huh?” The brother had bloodshot eyes and hair matted to his face, which was red with crease marks from the chair.

  “Hey buddy, you know where Todd is?”

  “Todd?”

  “Yeah. You know, blond guy, good teeth. Where’s he at?”

  “Hell if I know. His room’s upstairs at the end of the hall. Go ask him where he is…” The brother’s voice trailed off, and he shifted in the chair, away from Porter.

  Porter trudged his way up the stairs, focused on the well-worn runner that covered the wooden staircase.

  The stairs ended in a landing. The left was open, overlooking the downstairs. To the right was a hallway, with doors on each side. Porter peeked in a room with the door open. There was a twin bed on each side of the room, with a small desk at the foot of each bed. The walls had pictures of women, more nude than clothed.