“Just tell me one thing, you fat piece of shit,” demanded Todd. “Were Michael and Rawlins lovers?”
“Oh, heavens,” he muttered, shaking his head with disgust. “Who knows why God made you gay, because you certainly sound like the straightest, narrowest suburban jerk I've seen in a long time.”
“Were they?”
“Girl, you are such a bitch.” Jeff leaned forward again. “All right, I'll tell you this much—sure, they did it, Michael and Corky. They had sex. They sucked. They fucked. I don't know. They got naked together, that's all I know.” He grinned. “There, is that what you want to know? Is that what you came here for, to satisfy your curious, jealous little mind? Now go on, get out of here. I don't have time for closet cases like you.”
“When?”
“What do you mean, when?”
“When did they have sex?” Todd felt the blood rushing to his face. “Answer me, damn it.”
“You are too fucking ridiculous, Toad.”
“I'm not leaving until you tell me.”
“What do you want, times of day? How long it took before they came? Who was top and who was bottom? And maybe what phase the moon was in? You're nuts, you know it? Do I look like a fucking social secretary or something?”
“I mean was it last week, last month, last year?”
“Oh, honey,” he laughed. “Is that all you're concerned about? Well, let me tell you, it was long before you.”
Of all the answers this was the only one that took him by surprise, and Todd replied, “What?”
“They were both pencils. Or pistols. I don't know what you call 'em these days, but back then they were horny little dudes. I mean, Todd darling, they were nineteen. Twenty at most. It was the first time either of them had sex of any kind … wink, wink.”
“What are—”
“So you see, it's all history. You don't have anything to worry your jealous old head about.” Jeff cocked his head, stared at him out of the corner of his eyes, and taunted, “Of course, they say you fall hardest the first time, which is also to say, Corky never, ever got over Michael. For that matter, I don't think Michael ever really got over Corky.”
“But …”
“Oh, Lordy. Enough. I've got work to do. Now get out of here, you pathetic old troll. Michael, bless his soul, is dead, and there's nothing any of us can do to bring him back, so get out of here before I have you arrested for bothering the shit out of this old gal.”
33
“I want you to talk to him,” said Todd.
“Eat your meat loaf.”
He stared out the front window of Janice's dining room into the night, down toward the narrow, twisting Minnehaha Creek. Her house, a sprawling Spanish-style place on a wooded hill above the creek, was beyond serene. Todd was so agitated, however, that he could barely sit still, and he turned, looked out of the dining room's arched doorway, across the red tile floor of the hall, and toward the spacious living room. He glanced briefly at a large fireplace, next a large aquarium, then just sat there shaking his head. Ever since his conversation with Jeff late this afternoon, his thoughts had been multiplying and dividing, ricocheting off every possibility.
“You're a lawyer.”
“I know,” replied Janice, taking a hunk of bread. “How else do you think I can afford a place like this?”
“He knows more.”
“You're probably right there.”
“But he hates my guts.” Todd poked at his plate with his fork. “I don't think I'll get anything more out of him.”
“Todd, I'm serious. You've got to put something in your stomach. You're pale. Have you eaten at all today?” she asked. “Besides, I thawed this meat loaf especially for you.”
“But maybe you could. I'm sure Jeff is easily intimidated. Maybe you could say we're going to sue or something like that.”
“All right, all right. I'll talk to him.”
“You have to ask all about Rawlins.” Todd made a faint attempt at spearing a piece of meat. “I don't get it. Isn't it unethical to have Rawlins, a friend of Michael's, assigned to the case? Or is it just unwise?”
“Probably just stupid. I don't know. I'm not sure there's anything on the books against it. I'll have to check on that tomorrow.” She looked at her watch. “What time does Jeff finish?”
“Late. Let's have some coffee.”
“Only after you eat your meat loaf.”
They parked in the small lot next to the downtown library, crossed Hennepin, and as soon as Todd opened the door the noise of the Gay Times rolled over them. He and Janice entered the main room, saw a couple of male dancers—gorgeous hunks with Mr. Universe bodies—performing on the far end of the bar, dollars hanging out of their skimpy G-strings.
“Wow, look at those guys,” said Janice, stopping still and staring at the dancers. “My latent heterosexuality is stirring.”
“Come on, the drag show's upstairs.”
“After this is all over I'm going to send you down here with a bunch of one-dollar bills. You can play horny old man and ogle those guys.”
“Thanks. You're the second person today to call me a troll.”
“Won't someone tell me why there aren't any good dyke bars like this in town?” she asked, eyeing all the activity and glancing toward the main disco room. “Or in the country, for that matter.”
“It's called testosterone, Janice. Now come on.”
He led her up the staircase, past the free condom stand, and into the Show Room, where this evening's performance was already under way. A loud song rolled over Todd and Janice as they entered the darkened room. Up on the short stage a tall, thin black queen, her nails big and polished, her hair big and orange, her legs long and oh-so beautiful, belted out a Tina Turner tune. Moving about gracefully in a teeny metallic silver dress that barely came down to her crotch—a crotch that had been bound and flattened to make it appear as smooth and beguiling as a woman's—she sang about life as a private dance. The audience was captivated, caught by the music, enchanted by the queen's perfect lip-synching and rhythmic dancing.
Just to Todd's left, a deep, seductive voice said, “Oh, hello, gorgeous. I just knew you'd come back. I've been counting the days. Let's see, it's been Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and then after Wednesday comes …”
In the dim light Todd spotted a huge head of dark hair, a sagging, wrinkled face caked with makeup, a beaming smile, and a very full body squeezed into a tight dress. Once again she wore large, silvery earrings and a glimmering black dress, a real vision of cocktail-dress glamour.
“Hi, Limoge,” said Todd.
“Oh, kiss, kiss, you remember.” She came over and gave him a very light but noisy smooch on his right cheek. “Say, your name's mud these days, isn't it, handsome? I saw a piece about you on TV, and I read all about you in the paper too. Just what have you been up to? That's okay though. I just love a man with a soiled past—once I dated an ex-con who was ever so much fun. Then again, I love just about any man that's breathing. Can a girl buy you a drink?” She looked Janice up and down and said, “Oh, hi, dear. That maroon sweater really looks awful on you. Makes you look all pasty. I think you're a winter. You know, all those frigid blues. You really ought to have your colors done, you know. Just look what it's done for me.” Reaching for Todd's hand, she added, “Oh, and it's all right, I'll take him from here. You can go now. He's all mine.”
Janice was staring at Limoge's shiny black heels. “Why the hell can you walk in spikes like those and I can't?”
“It just takes a little … je ne sais quoi…. practice, I suppose. Now be a good tart and say ta-ta before I scratch your eyes out. You're not his type—wink, wink—if you catch my drift.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” she retorted. “I wouldn't want him anyway. Just in case you can't get those cheap eyelashes up high enough to see past your nose, I'm a member of the tribe too.”
Taken aback, Limoge couldn't hide her surprise. “Oh, girl fight, girl fight, tell me it's not so. A bull dagg
er, are you?” She took a long judgmental look at Janice. “Sorry, sister, I guess we do come in all flavors, but heaven help me, how's a nice-dressed girl like me to know just what you are? You're not wearing any plaid flannel, no leather either. But wait … wait, let me see there,” she said, bending over and peering at Janice's shoes. “Oh, dear Gawd, no wonder you can't do heels. Those are pretty nasty little loafers you got there. Where'd you get them, from a catalog or at a discount mall? So you're really a lezzie, are you? I know, I bet you rode your—wait, what do they call those muddy things with those big butch tires?—oh, yes. I bet you rode your mountain bike down here, didn't you?”
“No, my big fucking Harley.” Janice couldn't hide a grin as she said, “Todd, I'm sure you never thought you'd be caught between a drag queen and a dyke, did you?”
But Todd was too busy to pay either of them any attention. Instead, his eyes were searching the room. He saw a big pile of auburn hair off to the right, yet the figure was much too thin. Just up ahead, leaning against a pillar, was a shapely figure with huge shoulders and a huge mound of platinum hair swirling and curling over a silvery dress. But that wasn't Jeff either. He scanned all the crowded tables, each with a small candle flickering on it, and peered through the crowd. Jeff was nowhere to be seen.
“Limoge, have you seen, uh …” His mind went blank for a moment. “Have you seen Tiffany?”
“Lordy, are you hung up on that big queen or what? Is that what this is all about?” she said with a big scowl. “And here I thought you'd come especially to see moi.”
“I don't have time for any bullshit, Limoge,” he said. “I'm in deep trouble, and I need to find him—now. Janice here is my lawyer, and we need to get some information from him.”
Limoge cleared her voice, and it became deep and serious. “I see, of course. Let me think. Tiffany finished up about fifteen minutes ago—she did a brilliant piece, a Streisand song—and I saw her head to the dressing room. She wasn't changing into another gown. No, I think she was leaving, so you might still be able to catch her.”
“Thanks.”
Todd took Janice by the hand, and they weaved in and out of the tables and chairs of the crowded room. They came to a side door, pushed through, and entered a bright corridor. A straight couple was standing there, drinks in hand, talking and laughing, smooching. Todd and Janice cut through another small group of people to the right and down another corridor. When they reached Jeff's dressing room Todd pushed open the door and found it empty, a pair of red heels tossed on the floor and a white billowy dress thrown on a chair.
“Jeff?” shouted Todd. “Jeff, where are you?”
A soft voice from down the hall called, “Now what are you kiddies doing down here? Don't you know you shouldn't be back here?”
Todd turned, saw a queen poking out of the next dressing room, her makeup not fully applied, the jet-black wig not quite right, and demanded, “Where the hell's Jeff?”
“Who the hell wants to know?” She squinted, studied them, and scowled. “Oh, it's you again, what'shisface. My, but it's hard to teach old dogs new tricks, isn't it? I really don't think Tiffany wants to see you. And you're really not supposed to be back here.”
“Where the hell is he?” yelled Todd, moving briskly toward him. “Tell me before I beat the shit out of you!”
“Oh!” Screaming like a little girl, she slammed her door and locked it. “Go away! Go away! You're too late! Now leave before I call the guys in the Leather Bar and have them beat the shit out of you.”
His fist hard and solid, Todd pounded once on the door. “Where the fuck did he go?”
“I don't know! Honest! He just left. He went out the back just a couple of minutes ago! Now go away, you horrible thing. Leave me alone before I scream bloody fucking murder!”
Janice came up behind Todd, grabbed him by the arm, and pointed to an exit sign down the hall. “Come on.”
They bolted through the narrow corridor and came to a staircase, which doubled back and down. Reaching the ground floor, they rushed out a side door and into the cool night, stopping awkwardly on the sidewalk. At first Todd didn't understand where they were, then he saw Hennepin Avenue to his right. And there was the library and the parking lot where he'd left his car. He scanned the street, saw only a few guys walking along. A young boy and girl necking against the side of a building. A daring young gay couple holding hands. A handful of cars moving down the broad street.
“He couldn't just vanish that quickly,” quipped Janice, looking all around. “Where the hell is he?”
Todd saw a familiar car. A low, medium-sized sedan. Four doors. A Taurus. He saw it coming up the street, noted the flashing turn signal.
“Shit,” said Todd, grabbing Janice by the arm and pulling her into a shadowy corner of the building. “That's Rawlins.”
The car slowed, then turned into an alley. All at once Todd understood. This was either very good or very bad, he thought. With Todd leading the way, they hurried up the sidewalk, then crouched behind a car. And there, down the alley and in the dark light, stood the lone figure of Jeff, waiting for his ride.
“Keep an eye on them!” said Todd, and then turned and darted off, for he knew they had only seconds before losing them.
He ran as fast as he could, cutting across Fourth Street, tearing toward the library. Not waiting for traffic to clear on the busy Hennepin Avenue, he rushed through the moving cars as if he were fording a stream. One driver honked madly at him. Todd pressed on, jammed his hand into his pocket, yanked out his keys, and seconds later reached his Cherokee. With a huge roar, Todd brought the vehicle to life, but instead of pulling out of the parking lot and turning left on the one-way street, he turned right onto Fourth, proceeding the wrong way and directly into traffic. Gunning the engine, he drove quickly across Hennepin and slammed to a halt a half-block later. Janice rushed around the front of the vehicle and climbed in.
“Jeff got in and they drove off!” she related. “Rawlins turned left about midway down that alley.”
Todd quickly formed a mental map. “So he must be cutting back to First Avenue.”
On that chance, Todd drove along the edge of the street, still against traffic. Several angry motorists honked. And then, a few moments later, Todd's prediction proved correct.
“There!” shouted Janice, pointing to the busy cross street.
Deep in traffic, Rawlins crossed Fourth and continued up First, and at the very moment when the light turned, Todd raced around the corner. Rawlins's car, clearly visible beneath the streetlights, was less than a block ahead. Todd pressed hard on the gas, then eased up.
“I don't think they saw us,” said Todd, his heart beating hard.
“No, I don't either. But now what?”
“We see what they're up to, I guess.”
Following Rawlins past the Target Arena and out of downtown, Todd was careful not to approach too closely. He wanted to see where they were going, just what they might be involved in. At the same time an underlying sense of fear kept pushing within him. He'd had two horrible thoughts nagging at him all day, and they now began to surface. Could the man Michael have let in that fateful night have been his first lover? And after leaving Todd's last night could Rawlins have snuck down to Lake Calhoun? Both were distinct possibilities, placing Jeff in certain danger. Or might the two be involved in some sort of sick relationship? Still again, they could easily be involved in a scam of some sort, this one definitely not a childhood prank but perhaps involving Jeff's connections at the bank and Rawlins's police work. If that were the case, Michael could have discovered it and been killed to ensure his silence.
Todd's head began to ache as he tailed Rawlins and Jeff into south Minneapolis. The Taurus veered to the left and headed directly down LaSalle, a straight street where the traffic picked up speed. A mile or so later Rawlins turned left on 28th Street. Soon after crossing 35W the Taurus slowed and turned right, entering a neighborhood lost between the highway and larger businesses. Hadn't he,
Todd wondered, once done a story on a crack house somewhere in the vicinity?
“Where the hell are they going?” asked Janice. “This is kind of a rough area, isn't it?”
“Yeah,” replied Todd, “but I remember Michael saying Jeff lived over here. I think somewhere near a lumberyard.”
For fear of being spotted, Todd didn't risk turning down the same street after them. Instead, he continued to the next, where he made a right. Immediately they passed two abandoned cars, one missing its rear wheels, the other with all its windows smashed in. Todd glanced to the side and saw three boarded-up houses, one of them blackened with smoke stains. Only two houses on the entire block had lights on.
Todd turned right at the next corner, thereby cutting back to the street that Rawlins had taken. Here an entire row of houses had been leveled, their sad plight bulldozed into the ground.
“Down there,” said Janice, leaning forward.
She pointed to the left, where the taillights of the Taurus were veering off the road and into a driveway. Todd waited a couple of moments, then turned left after them. Nearing the drive, Todd slowed and pulled over, then turned off the engine and lights. Past some overgrown lilac bushes he could make out the last house on the street, a tall Victorian that stood isolated and dark in this neglected neighborhood. A couple of lights in the house came on, and then Todd looked past some train tracks and saw a lumber barn.
“This is Jeff's place, I'm sure of it,” said Todd.
“God, this is about as marginal as you can get,” commented Janice. “What the hell is Jeff doing living over here?”
“I think he inherited it. Something like that. Like maybe his great-grandfather or great-great-grandfather owned that lumberyard or something and built that house. I can't quite remember.”
Closet Page 23