by Greg Herren
Finished with his dinner, Nero came into the bedroom and jumped on the bed. Rick petted him absentmindedly. “Jacob introduced me to Milo when he came to pick up Jacob once. Nice car, good-looking, but kind of snobby. I guess you know that since you’re working for him, right?”
Sam smiled. “I’m thinking Jacob’s killer might be one of the donors he was blackmailing.”
Rick frowned. “The paper said it was a hate crime. I mean, the carnival was a benefit for Building Our Youth.” Rick smirked and looked down. “The carnival was his idea. Jacob told me once he had a thing for carnies. He said his fantasy was to get taken from behind while playing skee ball.”
“Sounds like Jacob was a man of odd tastes,” Sam said.
“I know,” Rick said. “I have no clue why he told me some of the things he did. I can’t imagine telling anyone, even my closest friend, some of that stuff.”
“Maybe he felt a little safer knowing that someone was aware of what he was up to. In case something bad happened,” Sam said.
Rick put his arms around Nero and hugged the cat. “For all the good it did.”
“You miss him, don’t you?” Sam ventured.
Rick nodded. “He was hard to figure out, though. Sometimes I think he was my closest friend, and other times I think I hardly knew him. I couldn’t tell you where he grew up or what his favorite color was, but he told me all this other stuff. It’s weird thinking he’s gone for good.” Rick shrugged. “The least I can do is look after his cat until his family comes to take care of his funeral arrangements.”
“Maybe you can still help find out who’s responsible for this.”
Releasing the cat from his embrace, Rick cocked his head at Sam. “Well, if you want, I could give you a list of Building Our Youth’s major donors. That’d help, wouldn’t it?”
“I thought they were anonymous donors,” Sam said.
Rick scoffed. “Please. They just didn’t want to be acknowledged publicly. They might have been getting blackmailed, but if they can get a deduction for their hush money, they’ll claim it.”
A lead at last. Thank God. “If you can get that for me, it would be a good start. If we knew who his escort clients were, we could compare the two lists of names and see if there are any matches, and we might solve this faster.”
Rick narrowed his eyes. “Solve for your client, you mean. Not exactly for justice.”
“Justice is the police’s job, not mine,” Sam said. “That doesn’t mean I don’t care, but I do have to remember who’s paying my fee.”
“Just like Jacob.” Rick smiled without humor and got up from the bed. “I have something you’ll want to see.”
The laptop, wrapped in a plastic bag, was hidden in the bathroom linen closet, behind a removable panel allowing access to the bathtub plumbing. Rick took it out of the plastic bag and placed it in Sam’s lap.
“He was really paranoid about anyone getting their hands on it,” Rick said. “I can only assume he kept records of his clients on it.”
Sam could barely resist the urge to tuck it under his arm and run out of the apartment. “The police would shit themselves if they knew we had this.”
“Then don’t tell them.” Rick smiled. “No one knows about this, just you and me.”
Sam started to open it, but Rick put his hands on the lid.
“Not here. If you don’t mind. I don’t want to see anything that would make me remember him differently.”
Outside, Sam lingered for a moment on the sidewalk. Rick had given him a bag to carry the laptop, and he shifted it from one shoulder to the other. The heat was relentless, and he broke a sweat just standing there. The trees offered futile shade that gave no relief and made the pavement look bruised.
Sam was missing something. He was convinced of that.
What he wasn’t missing: He was standing in the middle of the sidewalk with the only evidence, as far as he knew, to an unsolved murder.
*
Sam wasn’t sure what he was hoping to find on the laptop. It didn’t seem like there was a whole lot to be found. The messages in Jacob’s in-box were mostly from family—his mother wondered when he was coming to visit. His photos were mostly from work events, the office, or his cat, Nero. Do all lives look this pathetic and small after the fact? In one picture, Jacob held the camera out in front of him while with his other hand he cradled Nero, who was at best indifferent to the effort. That was the worst, and Sam almost found himself feeling sorry for the little dead man-whore with the heart of gold who was robbing from the rich and closeted to give to the poor and newly out. Mostly, he pitied the cat.
Then he opened Jacob’s Web browser and called up the escort site Jacob had used. Fortunately for Sam, Jacob was either forgetful or lazy: He’d saved the username and password in the browser. With a click, Sam was suddenly paging through Jacob’s private photos. If his default profile pic left little to the imagination, these closed the gap between little and nothing. He also had access to Jacob’s website messages. Those catalogued his arrangements with a variety of clients.
This gave Sam an idea, and he started looking through the browser’s history and bookmarks. By the time he was done, he realized Jacob didn’t keep anything at all on the laptop itself, but there was plenty to be found. And he had a pretty good idea of who his suspects were.
*
Sam met Milo in the café downstairs from Milo’s office.
“Have you had any luck yet?” Milo asked. He slid into the booth across from Sam.
“I have his laptop, but so far I haven’t found anything of value on it.” Sam sipped from his large black coffee. He was not strictly lying. “If we keep poking our noses into this case, we’re going to attract police attention. I have a few friends in the department. They don’t take kindly to people getting in the way of their investigation.”
“I think we’ve already attracted attention.” Milo took out his cell phone and showed the screen to Sam. It was another threatening text message: A private dick will only get you fucked.
Sam looked up. “How the hell do they know about me?”
“They must have seen me go to your office. Which explains why I get the feeling someone’s following me.”
Sam glanced around the coffee shop. “Like the big guy in the corner who’s been watching us this entire time?”
Milo looked over his shoulder. “Not him. That’s Simon. I hired him for private security with all this going on. I told him he probably shouldn’t sit with us.”
“He should probably stop staring at us if he wants to be inconspicuous,” Sam muttered. Simon looked like he’d just escaped from the ape house at the zoo. “Look, I’ll keep trying to find something on the laptop, but if that fails, I may have to start talking to other people. I know you want to keep this quiet…”
“Very. The people Jacob was blackmailing don’t want word of this to spread.”
“You know the people he was blackmailing are the likeliest suspects, right?”
“Of course. But I know these people. They wouldn’t do that sort of thing.”
Sam doubted that. People with money eventually pushed the limits of what they could get away with. What was Milo trying to get away with? His own reputation, maybe?
Then Rick called later that afternoon and said he was being followed.
“There was a black car parked out in front of the house this morning,” he said. “It was also outside my office when I went to lunch.”
“You sure it was the same car?” Sam asked.
“I didn’t see the license plate, but it was the same make and model, a Lincoln Town Car.”
“Get the plate number next time,” Sam said. “If whoever’s driving is connected with the murder, we could use that.”
Rick laughed. “Thanks, I’m touched by your concern. If I get run down in the street, I’ll be sure to write the license number in my own blood.”
“Sorry. I’m on the clock.”
“I doubt you’re ever off the clock,
Mr. Page.”
“Please. Sam.”
“Okay, Sam. I want you to find out who killed Jacob, too. Have you had any luck?”
“Kind of but not really. I know who Jacob’s last clients were, but my client’s worried about anyone getting wind of what was going on. I don’t see how I can narrow down the list of suspects without contacting them.”
“Which Milo doesn’t want you to do.”
“Exactly.”
“Come to my apartment tonight,” Rick said. “Bring the laptop. I’ll have something for you that should make your job easier.”
*
Rick handed Sam a black thumb drive when he opened the door. “It’s an Excel file,” he said. “Names, dates of donations, amounts. The most recent, highest-level donors to Building Our Youth. All solicited by Jacob. Some of them have donated several times over the past few months.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Sam said. He sat at Rick’s kitchen table with the laptop open between them. He plugged in the drive and opened the file. “You know, you could have just e-mailed this to me.”
“I know.” He sat with his arms crossed and looked as if he were trying to make himself as small as possible. He dropped his chin and spoke into his chest. “It just seemed like something I should deliver in person.”
Sam scrolled through the names. There was the married vice president at Steel Financial donating a thousand dollars. A cheap price to pay to keep quiet his desire to be tied up and have Jacob piss on him. There was also the alderman and restaurant owner whose predilections leaned toward hot wax and unsafe sex.
“What I don’t get,” Rick said after listening to Sam relay some of this information, “is how they all connected with Jacob like this.”
Sam shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”
“Some luck,” Rick said. “Do you think there’s any chance this won’t get out? About Jacob, I mean.”
Sam shook his head. “Even if no one figures out for sure who his clients were, someone will eventually find his profile and make the connection. You can’t see his face, but someone will connect the dots. You get naked on the Internet, someone’s bound to tell your mom.”
“Oh, God.” Rick rested his forehead in his palms. “Jacob’s mother is going to be here this Friday. What do I tell her?”
“Try the truth.”
“That her son was a whore?” Rick slumped in his chair.
“Try telling her he was your friend and you cared about him, and he tried to do good and help a lot of people.”
Rick crossed his arms. “That’s really touching. I don’t think you believe a damn word of it.”
Sam smiled. “The question is, do you?”
Suddenly, Rick leaned over the table, pushing the laptop shut with one hand as he used the other to draw Sam into a kiss. Sam wasn’t sure he believed a damn bit of this sudden affection either. It had been such a long time, though, since he’d been with anyone that he was inclined just to go along with it.
He had a feeling he’d regret it later.
*
The sheets pooled at the foot of the bed. Rick had just rolled off Sam and sprawled next to him. The ceiling fan drew a lazy circle above them.
“I didn’t see that coming,” Sam said once he’d caught his breath.
Rick sat up and looked at Sam. “I hope that doesn’t mean you didn’t enjoy it.”
“No, you were great. It’s just I’m usually not this lucky.”
“Maybe luck didn’t have anything to do with it.”
That’s what I’m afraid of, Sam thought. Before he could answer, he heard glass breaking outside.
“What was that?” Rick was the first one out of bed. He walked over to the window and drew the slats of the blinds apart. “Holy shit. Someone’s breaking into Jacob’s apartment.”
I knew my lucky streak couldn’t last. Sam was on his feet and into his jeans by the time Rick turned around.
“Where are you going?”
“To see who’s breaking and entering. Give me your key.”
“Do you have anything you can use as a weapon?”
Sam didn’t have a gun. He had a permit, but he didn’t like carrying guns. They were loud and heavy and always made a bigger mess than they cleaned up. He did stop at his car for his Maglite. He used the hefty blue baton more often as a blunt instrument than a flashlight.
Sam also noted the black Town Car parked behind his. It hadn’t been there earlier. He placed his hand on the hood—still warm. He memorized the plate number.
Whoever broke in wasn’t trying to hide that fact. They’d left the front door ajar, the pane of glass above the doorknob partly broken out. Sam nudged the door open wider and crept inside. He took each step with care, trying to remember if any of the stairs creaked.
From the bedroom he heard drawers being pulled open and their contents dumped on the floor. Heavy footsteps moved toward the desk. More random clattering followed. As Sam tried to remember what was on the desk, the intruder clicked on the desk lamp. His back was to Sam, who was now backing toward the kitchen.
He was a big man. The broad expanse of his back blocked Sam’s view of whatever he was rifling through on the desk. He paused, his shoulders sagged, and then with a sweep of his arm he cleared everything off the desk. At that point, Nero let out an outraged hiss and bolted from the bedroom, between Sam’s feet and into the kitchen. Sam tried to turn but stumbled, tripped over his own feet, and slammed into the floor. Between getting the wind knocked out of him, the screaming pain in his ankle, and the dull crack of his head against the hardwood, he was dimly aware that he’d lost his grip on the flashlight.
Smooth, Page. Real smooth.
Sam lay there and waited for the worst—kick to the ribs, boot to the balls, or bullet to the back of the head. Luckily for him, the intruder bolted downstairs and out the front door. From outside, he heard a voice say, “I’ve got it. Move,” followed by a revving engine and tires squealing down the street.
That was when Sam realized the break-in had never been the point.
Nero came out from wherever he was hiding and rubbed his chin against Sam’s forehead. He meowed in that way cats have of making a meow sound like a question. Sam groaned and got to his feet.
“I’m okay, buddy,” he said, looking down at Nero. “I think. I’m an idiot, but I’m okay.”
When Sam got back to Rick’s apartment, the laptop was gone. This time, the intruders had the presence of mind to close the front door behind them. Rick’s body lay in the middle of the hallway. Blood had started to pool behind his ear, a look of perpetual surprise on his face. If he were still alive, Sam would have told him not to be so surprised at being betrayed. Sam certainly wasn’t.
He retrieved his shirt and cell phone from the bedroom. He had to make a call he really wasn’t looking forward to.
“Tarrant,” a woman’s clipped voice said. She’d picked up after the first ring.
“Are you working late or up early, Christine?”
She sighed before answering. “What do you want, Sammy? I’m assuming it’s not good, whatever it is, since you’re calling at”—she paused—“four thirty-eight in the morning.”
Sam smiled. He’d always appreciated his friend’s precision. “You’re on the Anderson murder, right?”
“I would ask how you guessed, but then you know how my luck goes.” A pause. “Why do you ask, anyway?”
Sam glanced over at Rick’s body. “I think your luck’s about to change.”
*
When Sam walked into Milo’s office later that morning, he still hadn’t slept. The circles under his eyes showed it. He’d showered briefly, dressed indifferently, and hadn’t bothered to shave. Even so, he felt like he was holding four aces.
“I just wanted to let you know that the laptop doesn’t matter.”
Milo, to his credit, didn’t miss a beat. “You couldn’t find anything on it?”
“That’s not what I mean. It was stolen last night. As you know.”
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“Page, what the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about all the incriminating videos that your friends wanted to make sure disappeared. They’re not on the laptop. But you already know that, too, since the police picked up your friend Simon about an hour ago. Guess what he had with him?”
Milo didn’t answer. Sam pulled a thumb drive from his pocket and tossed it on Milo’s desk. “The videos weren’t on the laptop. Jacob used online file storage, which makes sense considering he transacted all his business online. Well, he closed the deal in person, of course. Or maybe he was worried about his laptop and all his files disappearing.”
Milo glanced at the flash drive but didn’t make any move to pick it up. “So you think I was involved in Jacob’s death?”
“I knew you were using me, but I couldn’t figure out what you were hoping I’d find. Then when you realized Rick just let me walk out of Jacob’s apartment with the best piece of evidence the cops couldn’t find, you must have gotten a little panicky and put the screws to him.”
“And how did you connect me to Rick?”
“Not too hard, when you talk to people and actually listen to what they have to say. But I want to know what you said to Rick to get him to go along with your plan.”
“Considering his main concern was his friend’s reputation, it was easy. I told him I’d hired you to help keep things quiet, but I was worried you were planning to go to the police, or worse, the press. So I asked him to keep an eye on you and try to get the laptop back.”
“So you had no idea Rick knew where the laptop was all along?”
For once, Milo looked surprised. “He did?”
“Hidden in Jacob’s linen closet behind a maintenance panel. Guess Rick didn’t trust you too much if he didn’t share that bit of information. So was killing him your idea or just an unfortunate accident?”
Milo leaned forward in his chair. “Rick’s dead?”
“Judging from your reaction, you’re either a really good actor or Simon didn’t mention that. Guess everything didn’t go according to plan last night.”