by Jade Astor
“You must be talking about my time at Birchwood. I figured you’d hear about it eventually, but I should have known Argo would be all over it. What did he tell you?”
“He said you had some…well, some problems there, to put it mildly. With another student. Or maybe a more accurate description would be that he had problems with you.”
“That’s about the size of it. Argo probably didn’t tell you the whole story, though. The kid in question was my roommate. He wasn’t stable. He wanted to be my boyfriend. I mean, really wanted that, to an unhealthy degree.”
“I take it you didn’t return his interest.”
“Exactly. The relationship was all in his mind. I tried to be nice and show him I wasn’t interested without hurting his feelings. But no matter what I did, he took it as encouragement. As time went on, he got more and more obsessed with me.”
Darian nodded. What Victor was describing seemed plausible. Such one-sided passions were hardly uncommon at an all-boys school like Birchwood. They almost always ended badly.
“You could say he stalked me,” Victor continued. “When a few of my friends tried to intervene by talking some sense into him, he reported them for harassment. Things got worse after that. He even hurt himself to get my attention. Finally I had to tell my mother. She insisted I leave school before I got blamed for something I didn’t do. So I did. And that’s the whole story, Darian. Cross my heart.”
He drew an X on the front of his shirt with a fingernail.
“Okay,” Darian said. He took a long, slow swallow of coffee.
“You do believe me?”
“I have no reason not to.”
“You don’t look convinced.”
“I just think you could have mentioned it to me before. When we talked about Birchwood. We did that more than once, as I recall.”
“Why should I have? It was a long time ago, and I was innocent of any wrongdoing. Do you talk about every dumb thing you did as a teenager? About weird guys who crushed out on you that you’d prefer to forget?”
“I guess you have a point there,” Darian had to admit.
“Besides, I was embarrassed. Ashamed. I know I could have handled it better, but I was only fifteen. And it still hurts me to this day that I caused another kid so much misery.” Victor’s face grew wistful. “I wonder whatever happened to him. Hopefully he had a good life after Birchwood. Found a guy who loved him back.”
“Let’s hope so,” Darian agreed.
“See?” With a smug grin, Victor settled back in his chair. “It’s all so easy to explain once someone asks. Unfortunately, Argo prefers to assume the worst of me. I know he’s dying to stick me with this Brother Lew thing, and I can understand why. But what motive would I have to kill Brother Lew? He was a pathetic soul who deserved pity, not abuse.”
“Argo thinks maybe you got into a confrontation with him. Maybe he came after you with that stick of his.”
“No way. Even if he had, I wouldn’t have been afraid of him. He wasn’t strong enough to hurt me, not that I think he would have tried.”
“Are you sure? He came after me fast and furious. Of course, he didn’t know me. Presumably he'd recognize you.”
“Of course he would. He knew I was his landlord,” Victor said with a touch of pride. All at once, a new theory occurred to Darian. He could almost hear it click into place in his head. Victor and his mother weren’t the only people who stood to profit from turning Reece Hall into a tourist destination. He now knew of at least one other person involved in those plans.
“Victor, how many people in town knew about Brother Lew? Could there be anyone who might have wanted him off your land? Maybe someone wanting access to the woods behind your house for some reason?”
Victor opened his mouth, startled, and Darian had the uneasy sense that he was about to lie reflexively. Then a light went on in his eyes and he reversed direction.
“I saw you come out of the historical society. Thomas told you about his uncle’s big plan for Reece Hall.”
“Yes. Tours of the grounds and, I assume, of the old monk-run winery. Brother Lew’s continued presence made his idea a nonstarter.”
“I turned him down, but I never mentioned Brother Lew to him or to Thomas. Still, they might have poked around on their own without my mother or me realizing it. I can’t think why they would have come up to the house recently. They floated their tourism idea almost a year ago. I assumed they’d forgotten about it by now.”
“I think I can answer that. Thomas knows Jamie is staying with you. He denied being starstruck, but I got the opposite impression. I can imagine him prowling around, hoping to get a glimpse or even a photograph of Jamie. What would Brother Lew do if he saw somebody peeking in the windows?”
“I see what you mean. Not a pretty picture.”
Growing excited, Darian finished the last of his croissant, wiped his hands on his napkin, and pulled out his phone. “This could be important. We need to call Argo.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”
“Why not? You just complained that Argo drew a target on your back. Now we’ve got another lead he can investigate instead of you. I thought you’d be ecstatic.”
“I’d hate for him to go charging in there and getting in Thomas’s face. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of his interrogations. Thomas is just a kid.”
“He’s a college graduate who might have stabbed poor Brother Lew to death with a stick,” Darian objected, baffled by Victor’s attitude. “He’s capable of standing up to a few questions about his whereabouts that night. Argo doesn’t use a thumbscrew, you know.”
With obvious reluctance, Victor raised both hands in surrender. “Okay. You’re right. How about a compromise? You and I can talk to him first. If we uncover anything suspicious, we pass it along to Argo.”
“You and I?” Darian blinked. “We don’t have either the right or the training to do that. Argo would be furious if he found out. If you think he brought the pressure before, wait until we start tampering with a potential witness—never mind tipping off a murder suspect.”
“If Thomas was involved, it would have been an accident, just like you said before. Self-defense, maybe. Look, Darian, we don’t have to come right out with an accusation. You said Thomas is interested in Logan’s movie. We could pretend we wanted to talk to about publicity opportunities here in town. Offer to have Jamie make an appearance in his store or something.”
Darian winced. “He might actually prefer a few hours in Argo’s jail to that.”
“So would, I actually.” The corners of Victor’s eyes crinkled in amusement, and Darian found himself weakening to that easy charm in more ways than one. “Still, if we got him talking, he might slip up and blurt something out. Maybe even admit he was at the house.”
Darian put away his phone. “Let me just say this, Victor. If I’m going to keep protesting your innocence to Argo, I need to be absolutely sure I have all the facts. When he blindsides me with stuff like your Birchwood drama, it just makes things more difficult for you—for both of us.”
“Believe it or not, I actually like the sound of that. Are you saying there might be a ‘both of us’?”
“I don’t know.” Darian busied himself with clearing the table, crumpling their empty paper plates and napkins into a wad. “It’s too soon to say.”
“Can I try to speed things up a little?” Victor leaned forward and took Darian by both hands, stopping him in mid-crumple. His face—his lips—hovered close, so close to Darian’s. “I’m not kidding around here, Darian. The past few days…despite everything that’s happened…I feel like this could be something real. Something lasting. I know you’ve felt it too.”
“I have,” Darian admitted. “But the time isn’t right for me. We both have to be patient.”
Victor sighed and let go. “You’re right. Sorry. Our priority needs to be figuring out what happened to Brother Lew. I’m glad you’re willing t
o help. Once we find the real culprit, Argo will leave us alone.” He hesitated, pinning Darian with an inquiring gaze. “You want him to leave you alone, don’t you?”
“He’s going to be around no matter what happens with this case.”
“You don’t have to be around him, though. I meant what I said about Reece Hall being way too big for one person. One the film crew leaves, I wouldn’t object to you staying around longer. You could even keep your place in town until we see how it works out.” Darian wondered how Victor’s mother would feel about that arrangement. But as Victor had said, she was often away. Besides, the house was huge. Presumably people could avoid one another for days on end if they wanted. “It’s way too soon to talk about anything like that.”
“You’re right. I’m jumping the gun. No pressure. But the offer’s out there.”
“Thanks. I’m flattered, really.”
On the way to question Thomas, Darian noticed Victor crossing the street slowly. Maybe he was lost in thought, trying to formulate a strategy. Confrontation was never easy, after all. On the other hand, he seemed reluctant to reach the shop.
Mentally, he reviewed Argo’s account of Victor’s Birchwood troubles and compared it to Victor’s explanation. What Victor said made sense. Angsty students, especially young guys experiencing the tug of an alternative sexuality and the chance to act on it for the first time, were a never-ending source of turmoil at his job. He could well believe, knowing Birchwood students as he did, that Victor’s roommate had conceived an ill-fated crush that drove him to strange lengths.
He could also believe the teenaged Victor might have contributed to the situation in a way he wasn’t willing to own up to.
Did that make him a killer? Of course not. But it might make him a liar, and that was the gateway to all kinds of ills.
When they came within a few steps of the shop, Darian stopped walking and turned to Victor. “Before we do this, I need to ask you a question. Is there anything else you need to tell me? Last chance.”
“Of course not,” Victor said. He sounded less confident than before. Darian frowned.
“All right, then. Let’s go.”
They started forward again.
The first time Darian had visited Thomas’s shop, he had approached it from the right side of the street. Then, when he and Victor had strolled to the bakery, his back had been to it. Now, coming up the sidewalk from the opposite direction, Darian noticed a small gap between the historical society and the building next door, which housed a nondescript insurance office. In the space sat a couple of trash cans, a pile of plastic recycling bins, and a weatherbeaten car—presumably the one Thomas drove to work.
Darian’s gaze locked immediately on the bumper, where a faded sticker did a poor job of covering a rust-flecked dent. Architectural Preservation Society, the chipped lettering read. The sticker itself had a stylized design suggesting the shape of house—a triangle superimposed over a square.
“Victor, come and see this!”
Victor had been about to walk past him, his attention focused straight ahead, on his way into the shop. Darian grabbed his wrist and dragged him back.
“It’s the car! The one that almost hit you. I remember that sticker!”
To Darian’s astonishment, Victor remained skeptical. “Lots of people around town probably have that sticker.”
“Oh, come on, Victor. Thomas’s uncle runs that group. He told me so when I was here earlier.” Darian grabbed his phone from his coat. “We have to tell Argo.”
“I thought we were going to talk to Thomas again first.”
“Victor, can’t you see how important this could be? It all goes back to Thomas and his uncle. They were determined to set up those tours at your house. When they spotted us downtown, they tried to kill you by running you over. When that didn’t work, they came back to finish the job at Reece Hall. But Brother Lew got in the way. With both of you gone, they could pressure your mother into letting them take over management of the property. We’ve solved it. I know we have.”
“You think they killed a man so they could show people the inside of my house? That sounds more than a little farfetched, Darian.”
“Well, okay, maybe it does to us, but maybe they view it differently. Maybe there’s an angle we don’t see yet. That’s not the point. The general framework makes sense.”
Darian couldn’t imagine why Victor wasn’t as elated as he was. Shock, maybe? At least he didn’t interfere while Darian buzzed Argo’s cell. He answered immediately.
“Argo, I’m just down the street at the historical center. Come quick. I might have figured out who killed Brother Lew, and why.”
I wish you hadn’t done that, Victor’s expression said when he disconnected.
“He’ll be here in a few minutes,” Darian said. He felt a wave of elation pass through his body when he imagined Argo’s gratitude for his help. Maybe it would even make up for….
But no. He wasn’t going down that twisted mental road again. Better to take things one step at a time.
Sure enough, a cruiser soon pulled up beside them. To Darian’s disappointment, Argo wasn’t inside it. Instead, Deputy Cutler stepped out and opened the back door.
“Get in,” he said, motioning toward them both. “Boss’s orders.”
As they drove away, Darian saw Thomas peering at them out of his front window. Then he stepped back and pulled the shade all the way down.
Argo wasn’t especially pleased to see them, Darian could tell, but he ushered them into his office and settled patiently behind his desk with a yellow legal pad in front of him. Moving awkwardly because of his sling, he jotted down the information while Darian rattled off his new theory. Darian tried not to let his gaze linger on those long, strong fingers as they gripped the pen, the graceful curve of Argo’s jaw, and the occasional flutter of those thick eyelashes. To his disappointment, Argo didn’t look up at him even once as he took notes. He ignored the dull ache his indifference caused deep in his chest.
“This could make perfect sense,” he insisted. “Think about it, Argo. That guy from the Historical Society might very well have been up at the house. He claimed he wanted to meet Jamie, but now I think that was just a cover story in case he was caught. Either he and his uncle intended to kill both Victor and Brother Lew, or Brother Lew interfered with their plans.”
“And all this was over a tourism business?” Argo asked doubtfully.
“I don’t see why that’s so hard to believe. Tourism is big business in this area. Pretty much the only business, from what I’ve seen. Anyway, Victor can tell you more about that side of things.”
Victor, seated next to him, did little more than fidget and mutter in half-hearted agreement. It occurred to Darian that he had been doing all of the talking since they’d arrived.
Argo noticed it, too. His forehead creasing, he set down his pen.
“The way I see it, the kid’s a good suspect. You did the right thing by coming forward.” He tapped a button for the intercom on his desk and stood up when Cutler appeared. They conferred outside Argo’s office door for a few minutes. Then Argo retuned without his yellow pad. “Cutler’s picking him up for questioning. When they get back, I’m going to have you verify his identity, Darian. We’ll need to verify that he’s the man you talked to in the store this morning. We also need to know if you can identify him as a suspect in the reckless driving case.”
“That’s not necessary,” Darian objected. “I saw him in the window of the shop just a few minutes ago. And as for the driving charges, I told you I didn’t see anyone behind the wheel. I’m only going by the bumper sticker. It could have been his uncle in the car for all I know.”
“Routine procedure,” Argo said, shrugging. “What’s your take on the situation, Victor? You think Darian’s spotted our man?”
Victor laughed uncomfortably. “I wish I knew. When that car roared by me, I didn’t see a thing. It was too dark, and everything happened so fast. I’m willing to trust Dari
an’s judgment, though.”
“What about Brother Lew’s murder? You believe Thomas and his uncle could have had a hand in that?”
“Again, I have no idea. I’ll trust you to sort all that out.”
“Oh, I will,” Argo assured him.
Before long, Cutler returned. This time, Argo didn’t stand up.
“Have Darian stand outside the interview room and make sure we’ve got the man he spoke to in the shop. Then have him write out a statement to that effect and sign it. Meanwhile, Mr. Reece and I will stay here and chat some more.”
“Yes, sir,” Cutler agreed. He motioned for Darian to follow him, but Darian hesitated. He realized that getting him out of the room was only a ruse so Argo could confront Victor alone.
Victor seemed to read his thoughts.
“It’s okay, Darian,” he said, settling back in his chair with an air of resignation. “Go.”
Grimacing, Darian got up and went with Cutler. Down a short hall, in a room Darian had unfortunately been in before, Thomas sat behind a coffee-stained Formica table. He was tearing at his cuticles with his fingernails, but on the whole he looked less bewildered than an innocent person would under the circumstances. Darian felt a surge of confidence that he had got this right. Thomas had expected to be questioned, about the attempted hit and run at the very least.
“Don’t worry, he can’t see you,” Cutler said. “It’s one-way glass.” He glanced down at the yellow pad Argo had handed him. “Is that the guy you talked to this morning at the historical society storefront?” he asked, reading in a stilted, almost robotic voice.
“Yes,” Darian said “He introduced himself as Thomas. No last name.”
“Is he also the person you saw driving a car recklessly the night Victor was almost struck?”
“I already told Argo that I didn’t see a person. Only a distinctly shaped bumper sticker. I saw the same—or at least a similar—sticker on a car parked beside Thomas’s shop.”
“But you never actually saw Thomas in the car,” Cutler pressed. “You don’t know for sure if it’s his.”
“It’s got to be. I already told Sheriff Sullivan—” Darian started to argue, but suddenly he understood that Cutler was simply leading him on, deliberately wasting his time. This, he knew, was to buy himself time to spar with Victor in his office. Darian lowered his voice. “Okay, you’re right. Technically that’s true. I suppose you can check the license plate and registration.”