A Dangerous Game

by Rick R. Reed

  He shivered when he thought of his response, “Three.” Two of them were dead. The owner of the escort service—dead. Wren looked over at Rufus, so alive, so vital. The killer would come for him next. Oh God, no.

  It was Rufus who broke the silence. “When did this happen?”

  “They found him this morning, in his condo. He had been stabbed. The apartment was a real horror show—enough blood splatter to keep Dexter busy for days. The coroner estimated that his time of death was sometime last night, during that big storm,” Tony said.

  Wren leaned forward on the couch. “How do you know all this?”

  Tony gave him a mysterious smile. “I have friends in high places.”

  Wren sat back. He supposed it wasn’t so strange that someone on the Chicago police force was a client of À Louer and was “friends” with the almost paranormally handsome Tony. What he did find strange, though, was the fact that three men sat here, three men who had all known Davidson Chillingsworth, and yet not one of them seemed anything other than stunned. There wasn’t a teardrop between the three, nor a moment of sadness.

  He got what he deserved. The thought popped into Wren’s head unbidden, and he quickly quashed it. That’s no way to think. He was a man. A human being. He may have done bad things, but he still had somewhere, at some time, people who loved him. There must be one person out there at least who will mourn his passing. Maybe a mother, a sister, brother, father, friend. No matter what he did, he didn’t “deserve” to die. Shame on you.

  Rufus asked, “When did you say he was killed?”

  “Last night.”

  Rufus glanced over at Wren, telegraphing him something significant in his gaze. It took Wren only a moment to make the connection. He blurted out, “You called him this morning.”

  Tony stood and stared out at the bright day. He turned back. “Did you speak to him?”

  “No. That was the weird thing.” Rufus told him about the brief conversation he’d had with the woman he assumed was an assistant of some sort of Dave’s.

  “A woman?” Tony sat back down between Rufus and Wren. “Davidson Chillingsworth didn’t have an assistant. And if he did, you can sure as hell bet it would not be some chick. What time was this?”

  “Early,” Rufus responded, his voice gone toneless.

  “Dude, that must have been after he was dead.”

  Even though sunlight poured in through the windows, exposing dust motes dancing on the air, the room went silent again, and Wren felt cold, colder than he should have in spite of the air conditioning. He whispered, “It was probably his killer who answered the phone.” The thought made it hard to swallow, his mouth suddenly gone dry.

  Rufus stared at him, and Wren thought he was searching for something to say.

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Who else could it have been? Who would have his phone?”

  “So,” Tony said. “That must mean the killer is a female?” He shook his head. “I can’t quite wrap my head around that.”

  “Or it could have been more than one person.” Wren stopped and didn’t say anything more. He couldn’t. A simple, innocent-looking household device, lying harmlessly on the coffee table, had captured his focus, filling him with dread. When he was finally able to summon words, he pointed to the cordless phone and asked Rufus, “You do have an unlisted number for that, right?”

  Rufus seemed distracted. He barely looked at Wren when he responded, “What?”

  “Your landline phone number. It’s unlisted, isn’t it?”

  Rufus shook his head. “No. What are you worried about—”

  He stopped speaking abruptly, and Wren watched as the realization—and the fear—tumbled into place across his features.

  “Oh God.” Rufus swallowed hard. Wren watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

  It was Tony who spoke aloud their fear. “That means you practically laid your address right into the killer’s hands. Dude, you have to get out of here, stay someplace else. Somewhere safe. You need to call the cops.” Tony shook his head. “Although I bet they’ll also be showing up at your door before too long.” He put a hand on Rufus’s arm. “Maybe they’ll put you under some kind of guard, some protection.”

  Rufus laughed, but it was bitter. “For a gay prostitute? Sure they will.”

  Wren sat mute, staring ahead and wishing suddenly he wasn’t so worthless. How could he help? He didn’t even have a place to offer Rufus where he could hide out, a place where he would be safe.

  What were they going to do? Wren turned to Tony. Even though he had just met the man, he felt desperate times called for desperate measures, so he didn’t hesitate to ask for the favor. “Hey, Tony—can Rufus stay with you for a while? Until this woman is caught?”

  Tony smiled. “Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that myself.” He touched Rufus’s arm again. He seemed a very touchy-feely kind of guy. In another time and another place, Wren might have found his physicality very promising. “Dude, you can stay at my crib for as long as you need. I’ve got a cool guest room.”

  “No.” Rufus stared at both of them. “No one is chasing me out of here. This is home for however long I have it. And I don’t know how long that’s gonna be, now that the service is most likely gone. If some bitch wants to try and harm me, let her come ahead.”

  Wren felt a tickle in his chest that he identified as rising hysteria. “Are you crazy, man? This ‘bitch’ has killed three pretty able-bodied men already. What makes you think you can defend yourself against her? What makes you think she’s working alone? That woman who answered the phone last night could have just been with the killer—doesn’t mean she was the killer. So why would you think you’d stand a chance?”

  Rufus regarded both of them for long enough to make Wren wonder what he was about to say. When he did speak, Wren couldn’t have been more stunned at his response.

  “Because I think I know who this bitch is.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  WREN AND Tony both were slack-jawed at Rufus’s pronouncement.

  Wren spoke up first. “What? You know who she is?”

  “I have a pretty good idea, yes.”

  “Well then, don’t hold back from us. Who is it?” Tony asked.

  “I don’t want to say just yet.”

  “Dude, you need to call the police, right now,” Tony said.

  Rufus shook his head. “I need to think about this some more before I make any move.”

  Wren tried to keep a pleading tone out of his voice when he said, “What could you possibly have to think about? Rufus, man, if you have any idea who the killer might be, you have to go to the cops with it. For your own sake, if nothing else.”

  Rufus looked first at Tony, then at Wren. “What if I’m wrong?”

  “So you’re wrong. At least your suspicions will be on record. And if you’re right, all to the good, man. Please call.” Wren picked up the cordless and held it out to Rufus.

  Rufus took the phone from him, looked at it like it was a piece of abstract sculpture, then set it back on the coffee table. “I’m not calling anyone yet.” He stood and paced the room. “Tony, we don’t want to keep you. Is there someplace you need to be?”

  Tony, who had been leaning back into the couch, legs sprawled open before him, looking very comfortable in light of the circumstances swirling around all of them, shook his head. “Nah, bud, I’m cool. I can hang with you, make sure everything’s copacetic.”

  Rufus said, “Everything’s copacetic. You probably need to be out there now, finding yourself some new employment. That is, if you want to continue living in the style to which you’ve become accustomed.”

  This last mention seemed to strike a chord with Tony, who sat up straighter on the couch, as though it hadn’t yet sunk in that the death of Chillingsworth could very well mean the death of both Tony and Rufus’s livelihoods.

  “Damn, I hadn’t given much thought to that. Stupid. Not gonna be any calls, out or in, without
Davidson around.”

  “Right,” Rufus said. “It’s cool, man. You can go. I have Wren here, and I’ll be calling the cops in just a few. Just need to think about things, what I’m gonna say, before I do.”

  “And you’re not gonna tell me who you think this chick is?”

  “I need to give it some more thought before I point any fingers. Besides, if it’s who I think it is, I’m the only one who’s in danger. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Tony.”

  Tony gave Rufus a wan smile. “I wish I could be so confident.”

  “I can’t go into how I know or why just now, but really, man, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’d bet my last dollar on it.”

  “Okay. That makes me feel marginally better.”

  “I need some alone time now here with Wren. You mind?”

  Tony nodded. “Okay. But I’m checkin’ back in with you guys in a couple hours. I’ll want to hear that you’ve talked to the police.”

  “Sure thing.” Rufus crossed the room to open the front door.

  Tony got up and within a minute was gone.

  Wren remained on the couch, staring at Rufus. “Now you want to tell me the truth? What’s going on? I may not be as pretty as Tony, but I’m at least as bright. So trust me.”

  Rufus chuckled. “You’re brighter. A lot.” He sat back down next to Wren. “Remember when I heard about Evan Maple’s death?”

  “Yeah, you disappeared—for the whole night. I was worried about you.”

  “I’m sorry, little man. But see, Evan and I were close.”

  Wren couldn’t help it. In spite of the danger, in spite of the loss, in spite of all that was going on, he couldn’t stop the very primal stab of jealousy that caused him to shift on the couch.

  “We weren’t close in the way you think. We were buddies. See, Chillingsworth always pairs the new guys up with an older one for the first few weeks, just like I was supposed to do with you before you bailed so suddenly. Why did you do that, anyway?” Rufus shook his head. “I guess it doesn’t really matter now. The point is Evan was my mentor, if that’s the right word for it. We got very close. He and I had a lot in common in terms of our backgrounds and stuff like that.”

  Rufus’s gaze met Wren’s, and Wren noticed how Rufus’s eyes had filled up with tears. He scooted closer to him on the couch, took his hand, intertwining their fingers.

  Rufus went on. “I loved the guy. Not in the way you think. But like a brother.”

  Rufus let his head loll back on the couch for a moment, closing his eyes. A single tear escaped the corner of one of his eyes, and without thinking, Wren leaned in close and licked it away. Rufus’s breath hiccupped once, a strangled sob, and then he drew in some air, sat up straighter, and laughed.

  “Enough of that!” He continued, “Evan and I stayed close long after he was done mentoring me, a fact old Dave would not have liked, had he known. He didn’t want the help fraternizing too much. He liked to keep us isolated once we got working. But I’m getting off track here. Evan, in the last few months, became a changed man. You want to know why?”

  Wren nodded.

  “He fell in love. Falling in love, for a whore, is never a good idea, and an even worse one if the guy you’re in love with is married—to a woman—and not in love with you.

  “That’s what happened to Evan. He met this guy through work. Dan was his name. A rich dude, lived up in Kenilworth. What Evan never knew, because I couldn’t ever bear to tell him, was that I had been with Dan too.

  “So had Tony. So had Michael. Roger. Brandon.” Rufus smiled sadly. “Evan had fallen in love with a guy who couldn’t get enough, but somehow Evan convinced himself he was Dan’s one and only.”

  “So he shared this secret with you,” Wren said. “I still don’t get how this relates.”

  “When I realized that a woman was involved in these murders, I realized who it might be—Dan’s wife. Evan used to talk about her, about what Dan would say about her. He didn’t bad-mouth her or anything, but he told Evan she was unstable, in and out of mental hospitals. A sick puppy.

  “And what would set a sick puppy over the edge?”

  Wren nodded. “Finding out hubby is cavorting with male prostitutes.”

  “Kind of busts up the family unit. And I guess there were kids involved too, one of ’em disabled.”

  Wren shook his head. “Dan sounds like a real prince.”

  “Hey, don’t judge. You don’t know the guy. Maybe this is how he came to terms with himself and managed to stay with his family. I’ve been with lots and lots of married men, and so many of them are not party guys out there looking to betray their wives and families, but tortured men who were so far in the closet they weren’t getting any air or light. They suffered under the weight of the mask they showed the world. Suffered a lot. Paying for a little outlet, a little release now and then, was how they handled the big rift in their lives. You couldn’t possibly understand that, Wren.”

  Wren felt heat rise to his face and inwardly cursed himself for being so young and naïve. He lacked not only judgment but compassion. He shook his head, disappointed at his own foibles.

  “It’s cool. Don’t feel bad—you’re young. Hell, I’m young. Being in this job opened my eyes to lots of stuff, and one of them was married men. After a while, more than anything, I felt sorry for them. They were trapped in these lives they thought the world wanted for them, and they’d never find the kind of love they really needed to be happy.”

  “Wow.” Wren hadn’t realized how much depth could have gone into working as an escort. He just thought of it as a trade of sex for money. Now he could see that some men exchanged their money hoping for a lot more, for something that was, really, unattainable. All of this was food for thought—for later. “So Dan has an unstable wife. That doesn’t mean she’s a killer. That’s quite a stretch.”

  “You don’t get it. Evan told me she found out about Dan’s extracurricular activities, and she tried to kill Dan.” Rufus paused. “She tried to stab him. That was the first time she got committed. From what I understand, it was years ago.” Rufus let out a sigh. “But it just makes her seem, to me, like the most likely candidate.”

  “So why not go to the police with this?”

  “Do you know anything about the police? The district attorney?”

  Wren shook his head. “Just from what I watch on TV.”

  “And that should be enough to tell you that those folks do not generally operate on hunches. They need proof. They need evidence.”

  Wren said, “I don’t understand what you’re thinking of doing, Rufus. Yeah, they need those things. But whether this woman is a killer or it’s someone else, you need protection.”

  “What if we could get evidence?”

  Rufus’s question chilled Wren. He didn’t know if he wanted the answer to his next question. “What are you talking about?”

  “What if I go to this woman? Talk to her? Have my iPhone recording? And I could maybe get her to admit to something.”

  “That’s a crazy idea, Rufus. And I doubt, even if she admitted killing all three of those guys, that’s something that would hold up in court.”

  Rufus stared down at the floor for a long time. When he looked up, his face was a mask of fear. “I’m lying to you, buddy.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I want to confront that bitch. But I don’t want to set her up for prosecution—” Rufus said this last word like it was something disgusting, unsavory. He looked away from Wren for a minute, then turned back to him. “I want to stop her.”

  Wren felt everything inside him go cold. He whispered, “You want to kill her?” This was a side of Rufus he didn’t realize existed. This was a side he wasn’t sure he could love. And the thought filled him with fear and anxiety.

  Rufus laughed. “Dude, I don’t have it in me to kill someone. This bitch may be crazy, and she may have killed people I care about, but she’s still a human being. She’s still someone’s m
om, for Christ’s sake.”

  Rufus got up from the couch and went to stare out the window for a while, and Wren wondered what he was thinking—wondered if his question had, in reality, hit too close to home. He turned back to Wren.

  “I just want to talk to her, let her realize someone does know what she did. Maybe somehow I can convince her to turn herself in.”

  Wren couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. He laughed for a long time, high-pitched, hysterical giggles that sounded as if someone was tickling him to death.

  Then he stopped.

  “This is nuts. You are not doing this. You can’t. If she is unstable, if she is a killer, you’d be putting your life in jeopardy, man.” He looked up at Rufus, gaze pleading. “And I love you too much to let you take that chance.”

  He hadn’t wanted to admit his love so soon. It went against all his common sense, but if knowing someone loved him would prevent Rufus from going on this foolish and dangerous mission, then now was exactly the right time.

  “That’s sweet.” Rufus sat back down close to Wren and grasped his hand. “I love you too, just in case you were wondering. I think I have ever since I laid eyes on you, but I didn’t want to admit it, especially to myself. Love, as I tried to tell you before, is a hard thing for a recovering addict. I still don’t know what to do about it.”

  I do. Just love me. Forget all this. Leave this horror at the feet of the cops and move on. With me….

  “But I have to do this,” Rufus continued. “Can you understand that? Maybe she’s not the killer. But if she is, she knows where I live. You figured that out yourself. Just a quick reverse search on the Internet and she’ll have my address. Doing this, heading her off, is crazy, but it’s the right thing.”

  “It’s not. Isn’t there anything I can say to convince you?”

  Before Rufus could respond, the buzzer sounded again. Rufus stood and peered cautiously out the window, careful not to reveal himself to whomever was on the street below, ringing to be let in. “Uh-oh. What does this look like to you?” Rufus stepped away from the window so Wren could see. “Careful! Stay to the side so they can’t see you.”