The Voxlightner Scandal

by Don Travis

  I asked the question already asked. “Why?”

  Her cheeks picked up a soft blush, and I’m certain her ears hidden beneath the lush hair were aflame. “As I told you, I’m not quite certain why.” She shook her head. “I understood it might have been because Pierce prevented him from marrying some girl years ago. That was before I knew any of them, of course.” Then she surprised me by volunteering Harris had been having financial difficulties recently. “He’s a stockbroker, you know. And from what I’ve read, the markets took a bad fall.”

  “Black Monday was August 8. Belhaven was murdered a couple of weeks before that, on the night of July 20.”

  She bristled. “Yes. But the stock market business has been wishy-washy for most of the year. I know from hearing Pierce talk that Harrison was having money problems.”

  “I see.” I’d get Hazel to have another run at Harrison Belhaven’s finances, but I didn’t want Sarah Thackerson to think I’d moved him to the top of my suspect list. “How about Melanie Harper?”

  “She’s standoffish, but she’s okay. She loved her father. Pierce could be a bit foolish at times, but she wouldn’t do him harm.” Sarah’s eyes hardened. “That husband of hers, though.”

  “Cagney Harper? He had a problem with Pierce?”

  “More like Pierce had a problem with him. Mr. Belhaven didn’t like the man.” She paused and tapped her lips with a long finger. “Didn’t like Melanie marrying someone below her station.”

  I hid my surprise. “I understand Harper works for the Bureau of Land Management over in Grants.”

  “Runs the El Malpais Visitor’s Center. But Pierce thought Melanie should’ve married a doctor or lawyer.”

  “Something of a snob, was he?” I asked.

  She surprised me again by nodding. “About some things. But he was a wonderful man with some flaws. Just like the rest of us.”

  “How about Spencer Spears?” I asked.

  A look of exasperation flitted across her face. She smoothed long brunette locks back from her left cheek. “That one!”

  “Why don’t you like him?”

  Sarah’s cheeks rouged up again. “He’s an opportunist. Always cozying up to Pierce.” As if aware of what she’d implied, she explained herself. “He wheedled money out of Pierce. Spence bought a car and was forever needing money to tinker with it, get insurance coverage. That’s all I meant.”

  I adopted some of Paul’s tactics. “You meant exactly what you said. He cozied up to your employer. Your lover. He was your competition, wasn’t he?”

  I expected a reaction but not the one I got. She stood and threw a pencil on the desk. “I think you should leave now. I’ll let Harrison know you called.”

  “What time will he be home?”

  The change in pace flustered Sarah. “I believe the markets close early… you know because of the time difference. He hasn’t been living here long enough to establish a pattern, but he’s usually home by six. Unless he has a business meeting, that is.”

  We thanked her for her time and took our leave. Paul was silent for the first two blocks of our walk.

  “Sorry. Guess I wasn’t too suave back there with my interview technique.”

  “No harm done. We got what we needed. But you and I need to talk.”

  He ran a hand through his curly brown hair. He never wore a hat or cap except on the tennis court or golf course. “Nah, I’m over it now. Everything’s aces.”

  I led the way up onto the porch and keyed the lock before stepping aside. “You might be over it, but I’m not.”

  I fixed us a drink before we settled in the den. I gave him a long stare. He avoided my eyes. “Okay, what gives?” I asked. “Something’s bothering you.”

  “I just got pissed you read my story on this Voxlightner thing and okayed it before I submitted it. Now you’re off on a wild goose chase looking for Pierce’s killer. My article tells the world Pillsner did it.”

  “No, you pointed out that clues were pointing to him. And be fair… I looked at your article before Wick Pillsner walked into my office.”

  “I’ve read the transcript of that meeting. All he did was deny he tried to harm either of us, but he denied he killed Voxlightner and Stabler too. He’s a liar. How can you give his words any credence?”

  I sighed and studied the tumbler in my hand. “After a while you learn to listen beyond the voice. You listen to the man’s tone, his inflections. You read his body language. I could be dead wrong, but I believe him when he said he made no attempt on either of us. That doesn’t mean he didn’t kill Belhaven, but even if he did, someone else tried to harm us for some reason I can’t fathom. Two attacks, Paul. I don’t know about you, but I take attempts at bodily harm personally.”

  He set his empty glass on the coffee table. “I guess, but….”

  “But what?”

  “But nothing.”

  “Oh no. You don’t get off that easily. What’s behind all this, Paul? We’re walking on rose petals here. What’s eating at you?”

  “I’m just getting started, BJ. And I have to be careful about my reputation. I feel like I shot myself in the toe.”

  BJ. He said BJ, not Vince. Something was going on here. But from the way he was acting, now wasn’t the time to probe. I got up. “Okay. Tell me when you’re ready.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Whatever’s bothering you.”

  “I already said—”

  “Please, Paul. There’s something bothering you, and it’s not your professional career.”

  “All right!” He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes like a man exhausted by life. “There’s somebody down at the Journal. I guess I didn’t want to disappoint him.”

  I fell back into my chair. He opened his eyes and looked at me. “This guy?” I asked. “Who is it? The editor you’re writing for?”

  His cranium wobbled like a bobblehead doll. “No. Not the editor.” He closed his mouth, and a silence grew between us, chilling the air and making it hard for me to breathe. “There’s this kid. A copy boy, I guess you’d call him. He… he really likes my work. We’ve mostly talked on the computer, you know, edits and things. So I guess I was pissed because I’d settled things one way, and here you were trying to stir them up in another direction.”

  “So you have an admirer at the paper.”

  “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I guess.”

  “And how old is this boy?”

  “Eighteen… twenty.”

  I experienced something. Brain fade, maybe. My saliva tasted toxic. “How far has it gone?”

  “How—” he choked on his word. “How far? It hasn’t gone anywhere. Nothing. Nowhere.”

  “Paul, be reasonable. If it was nothing or nowhere, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. What do you want from me? Permission?”

  His eyes flew wide open. “Permission? Permission for what? I don’t want to do anything with him.” His jaw snapped shut with an audible click. “But sometimes I think about it.”

  I heard the words as if underwater. Distant. Indistinct. Yet somehow crystal clear. The thirteen-year age difference between us loomed large. “When… when you’re with me?”

  His visage turned thunderous. “No. Never. I love you, Vince. It’s just…. Well, I’ve never been tempted before, and it scares me.”

  I released a long breath. “I take some comfort in that.”

  “What should I do?” he whispered.

  His question blew away some of my building confidence. “It’s your decision. I have no claim over you beyond making you understand how much I treasure you. As long as that’s enough, everything will be fine. When it’s not, then….”

  He focused on me. Really focused. “I’m not breaking up with you, Vince. I’ve got five awesome years invested in us, and I’m not ready to give you up.”

  “Nor am I. You’ll have to fight your way through this. I’m here for support… or to talk if you need to. But there’s one thing I won’t put up with
, Paul. You can’t let personal problems interfere with your professionalism. Ever.”

  The frightened, unconvinced look on his handsome face sent my senses reeling.

  Chapter 20

  NEITHER OF us rested that night. I tossed and turned so much, Paul mumbled something about my restlessness bothering him. He collected his pillow and headed for the couch in the den. As frightened and confused as I was, I took some solace he hadn’t gone to the other bedroom. That would have seemed… permanent.

  Saturday and Sunday staggered by. I wanted to discuss our situation root and branch, but his panicked look whenever I got close to the subject convinced me we’d never get past the leaves. I barely slept.

  Feeling like waterlogged driftwood, I made it into the office by nine on Monday morning. Paul had been gone when I woke from a fitful sleep. I tried with all my strength to keep from wondering where he was but failed.

  Hazel, sharp enough to ask what was wrong, accepted my excuse of a lousy night’s sleep and dumped things on my desk for me to sign: checks, reports, a final billing. Whatever. I could have been signing a petition for the extermination of homosexuals for all I knew.

  Eventually she left me alone to puzzle over what to do next. What I wanted to do was go find Paul, wrap him in my arms, and never let go. What I did was call Harris Belhaven and ask for an appointment. When he found out I wanted to talk about Pierce’s death, not reinvesting my father’s trust fund with him, he settled for a drink at the Apothecary Lounge on East Central near the main Presbyterian Hospital campus later in the day.

  I relented midafternoon and called Paul’s cell, but it went to voicemail. I left a message inviting him to join Harris and me but got a text half an hour later saying he had something on and would pass. He’d fill me in tonight. That left my imagination running all over the place.

  WHEN I met Harris at the Apothecary, he’d lost much of the anger I’d noticed before but none of the sensuality. I wondered what Paul was doing right at the moment, and the proximity of the two thoughts shook me. I almost muffed our greeting.

  “Th-thanks for taking the time to see me, Harris.”

  “No problem. It’s after trading hours. Sarah told me you’d been by the house.”

  A waitress appeared to take our order. Once she left I got the conversation going again. “I gather you’ve moved into your father’s house.”

  “Halfway. Haven’t cleaned out my apartment yet. Probably this weekend.”

  “Did Sarah say why I called?”

  “Something about Dad’s death?”

  “I’m taking another look at his murder.”

  “Why? The whole town knows you found Barron and Walther and laid them right across Wick Pillsner’s back.”

  I studied the man across from me. Brown eyes, brown hair, tanned skin. His personality was probably brown as well. I couldn’t see him prospering as a stockbroker. Didn’t appear competitive enough. Thanks to his father’s death, he wouldn’t have to worry about finances any longer. I paused as the waitress delivered our drinks. “Wick has things to answer for, but what if your father’s death is not one of them?”

  Harris blinked, giving him an owlish appearance and rendering him less attractive. “Of course it is. He did it to stop Dad from reopening the old VPMR thing. What else could it be?”

  “If that was the goal, it wasn’t successful, was it?”

  He frowned over his bourbon and water. “There are always unintended consequences. But all right, suppose Wick wasn’t responsible. Who could it be? My father was a quiet man. Innocuous. And I understand all the research on his Voxlightner book disappeared.”

  “Which immediately threw suspicion in a certain direction.”

  He asked his question again. “What other motive could there be?”

  “Money.”

  His reaction to my answer showed surprise, uncertainty, but I didn’t discern fear. Until he tumbled to the fact this made him a prime suspect. Then it flashed briefly across his face before being swamped by outrage.

  “Don’t look at me! I haven’t spoken to my father in five years. Except when I’d run across him at a function or something. Then we mostly glared at one another. Hell, I didn’t even know he was going to leave me anything.”

  “Why?”

  “We had a serious falling out years ago.”

  “I heard he interfered with your marriage plans.”

  Even in the muted lighting of the bar, I saw amazement in his eyes. “That was twenty years ago.”

  “Long time to hold a grudge.”

  “Grudge my ass! My old man saved me from myself back then. I was too young to know what it was all about, and she certainly was. That’s not why I refused to have anything to do with John Pierce Belhaven.”

  “What was?”

  He paused, his face darkening. “Because while my mother lay dying, my father betrayed her with the slut working in his office.”

  “With Sarah?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Then why is she still working in your house?”

  “Because no one knows more about my father’s affairs, meaning finances and obligations, than Sarah Thackerson, that’s why. And when those ends are all wrapped up, she’s gone and good riddance.”

  I sat back in my chair and steepled my fingers. Had he protested a little too much? “So you didn’t know you would be in your father’s will?”

  He dismissed my question by waving a hand in the air. “Didn’t think of it one way or the other.”

  “Were you aware he held a life insurance policy with you as the beneficiary?”

  “For years. But I didn’t know if he kept it current.”

  “He paid the premiums, not you?”

  “Yep. Melanie had one too.”

  “As did Sarah and Spencer Spears.”

  His features crumpled into a frown. “Those I didn’t know about until after he died.”

  “Did your sister have the same reaction to Sarah you did?”

  “Melanie was over in Grants. She wasn’t as exposed to what was going on as I was.”

  “Are you on good terms with your sister?”

  “Mel and Cag are okay.”

  “Cag?”

  “Cagney Harper, her husband. Dad didn’t like him, but he’s a good guy. The right one for Melanie, I think.”

  “Harper and your father were estranged too?”

  “More like just left one another alone. Said hello at family functions and then retreated to neutral corners.”

  “What’s your take on Spears?”

  “Opportunist. If you want my opinion, Pierce and Spence were lovers too.”

  Interesting. Heretofore it was “Dad,” but when tied to Spencer, Belhaven became “Pierce.” That told me a lot about how Harrison Belhaven probably felt about gays.

  “What makes you think they had a liaison?”

  “Just the way they acted. Of course, I wasn’t around much. Only when family matters dictated my presence. But I think Spencer Spears would bed anything that walked.”

  “He ever come on to you?” I asked.

  He turned dark again. “I wasn’t around much after he arrived on the scene. But one time Dad told the Sarah bitch to call and ask me for something in my files. Had to do with a stock back when I was my dad’s broker. When I dropped it off at the house, I met Spears.”

  “And?” I prompted.

  “And he moved on me.”

  “What did you do about it?”

  “Let him know if he tried that again, I’d put him on the ground and call the cops. Supercilious son of a bitch laughed at me.” Harris looked me in the eye. “But he never tried anything again.”

  “Do you mind telling me where you were the night your father was killed?”

  “You snooping around for my alibi? I was home. Alone.”

  “Doing what?”

  He hesitated, presumably to let me know he wasn’t pleased with the question. “Reading some trade journals and watching TV.”

/>   “So you don’t have an alibi.”

  I watched Harrison Belhaven swell up. My dad and I once ran across what he called a hognose snake out on the west mesa. The serpent hissed and puffed himself up to nearly twice his size. That’s what Harris reminded me of now. It was obvious he had no response, so I hit him with another one. “I understand this hasn’t been a good year for stockbrokers.”

  Lips compressed, he managed to make his words legible. “I’ve had better.” He straightened in his chair and tossed back the last of his drink. My string had run out. He slammed down the empty glass and leaned forward. “But just like you, my mother left me a trust fund, so I don’t have to live off my earnings. If you want anything else, forget about it.”

  He rose and stalked away, his stiff spine signaling his anger had returned. I clicked off the digital voice recorder on my belt and left money on the table for the tab before following him outside.

  Harris’s silver Infiniti turned right onto Central and squealed up the street as I came through the door.

  I DROVE home from the Apothecary to find an older model VW bug parked in front of the house. The vehicle may have been old, but the bright yellow color looked recently applied. I parked behind Paul’s Charger in the driveway and, because it was closer, went in the front door. Paul sat in his recliner in the den with a young man on the sofa opposite him. The stranger was small, no more than five eight, and trim. His curly white-blond hair rendered him cute rather than handsome. He didn’t blip high on my gaydar… but he blipped.

  Paul rose with a smile. “Hi, Vince. Can I introduce someone to you?”

  The young man scrambled off the couch and licked his lips nervously.

  “This is Jack Orson from the Journal. I don’t know exactly what he does down there, but he reads my articles and makes recommendations to my editor. Jackie, this is BJ Vinson. You know, the detective.”

  Not my lover, my mate, my significant other. Just “the detective.” My heart dropped into my stomach. Nonetheless I played nice. “Hi, Jackie. Nice to meet you. Am I interrupting anything?”

  Jackie indicated some papers on the coffee table. “No, sir. I just brought some corrections to Paul.”