The Truth of Yesterday

by Josh Aterovis

  “I'm his assistant,” she said quickly.

  “You guys won't turn me in, will you?”

  I sighed. “No, I won't turn you in.”

  He looked to Chris. “Hey, I only do what he tells me to do,” she said.

  He seemed satisfied and started backing away. “I need to get back up there before he gets out of the shower,” he said.

  “You'll probably be seeing me again,” I told him. “And remember, call me if you need me.”

  He grinned. “Okey dokey,” he said before spinning around and running back into the building.

  I stood staring after him even after he was gone.

  “Cute kid,” Chris said. “Shitty deal.” She glanced over at me and noticed my frown. “What are you thinking?”

  “I wish there was something I could do for him.”

  “There's hundreds more where he came from,” she said sadly. “I've heard that at least 30% of all teenage runaways are gay kids. At least, he has a roof over his head and food.”

  “But for what? He's essentially a sex-slave.”

  “You gave him an option. That's more than he had yesterday. If he decides he wants out bad enough he'll call you.”

  “He's just a kid. He has a family somewhere who doesn't even know where he is.”

  “He made it pretty clear that he didn't want to go back to them. Are you going to go back on your word and turn him in?”

  “No, I won't do that. I just wish there was something more I could do. I don't even know what his last name is or if Tad is even his real first name.”

  “I have an idea, but first, let's start moving. We can talk while we walk, unless you're too blonde to handle that.”

  I laughed, breaking my melancholy mood. “I think I can handle that,” I said as we turned once more towards the Metro station and started walking. “What's your idea?”

  “How long has he been running?”

  “I think he said he'd been in the city for about a month. Why?”

  “At the police station, they have a book with pictures of all the kids that have been reported missing. We can look through the most recent ones and maybe find out who he is at least. Then, if you want, you could anonymously check in with his father or something. You'd at least know if he wanted him back or what.”

  “That's a good idea. We'll have to do that. But first, let's go check out Paul's apartment. I want to get as much done as I can while I'm here.”

  “Are you going back tonight?”

  “That was the plan.”

  “Well, if you need a place to stay, you can stay at our place.”

  “Thanks,” I said with a pleased smile. I was definitely beginning to genuinely like Chris. She was turning out to be a good partner.

  The trip to the Dupont Circle

  stop took about twenty minutes; and from the station, it took us another twenty minutes to find Paul's address. Just as Chris had said, it was in a very nice neighborhood. Stone and brick faced townhouses lined the street, each with its own tiny patch of lawn, most filled with flowers. Paul's building was actually a brick apartment building tucked between two sections of townhouses. You had to be buzzed in but we just stood nearby and waited for someone to go in or come out. We didn't have to wait long before a woman with two small dogs came out. We slipped in behind her before the door could close and she never even noticed. Paul's apartment was on the third floor. We took the stairs but stopped at the second floor landing to decide how to set up the watch.

  “We need to decide how I'm going to warn you if someone heads for the door,” Chris said. Last time I didn't know what to do when Razi went in. I was ready to come in if you yelled or something but it was hard not knowing what was going on.”

  “I don't know what else we can do without you being very conspicuous. As it was, Razi noticed you. If he hadn't gotten distracted by me being there I don't know what he would have done. We don't want someone calling the police.”

  “Well, if they do I'm pretty sure I can get out of it because of my dad, but still, it would be a pain we don't need.”

  “Right, so I think we'd better just stick with the plan where you come to the rescue, should I need it.”

  “Ok, but I don't like it,” she agreed reluctantly. “And I'm only going along with this because I don't have a better plan. We have to work out something better before we do something like this again.”

  I gave her a smile and took the rest of the stairs to the third floor. It was easy to identify Paul's door. It was the only one with police tape across it. I took notice of the other doors opening off the short hallway; there were only four apartments on this floor. The other doors were closed and blank looking. There was no way to know if anyone was behind them or not. I took a deep breath and fished out the key Micah had given me. If it didn't fit, I wouldn't have to worry about any of this. I approached the door and slid the key carefully into the lock. It went in easily. I turned it and my stomach flipped as the lock clicked and released. I pushed the door open slowly until it was wide enough for me to slip inside. I ducked under the tape and quickly shut the door.

  It smelled musty inside and it was so dark I couldn't see anything; heavy shades blocked out most of the sunlight at the windows. Only a thin crack of light along the ceiling even showed me where they were. Well, that could work to my advantage. No one could see in either, so I could turn a light on and actually see what I was doing.

  I fumbled along the wall for a light switch, but before I could find one, I heard the door handle rattle behind me. I froze in place, praying it was just Chris. The door swung open suddenly and the comparatively bright light from the hallway temporarily blinded me. A dark figure stood in the doorway. “Don't move, I have a gun,” a harsh voice ordered. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?”

  Chapter 13

  This was definitely not good, I thought as I froze where I was and slowly raised my hands above my head. Getting caught was not part of my plan. Assuming I survived this, Chris and I were definitely going to have to work out a better way for her to warn me. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I began to get a better look at my assailant. To my great surprise, it turned out to be a woman. A very small, slender woman to be exact, with distinctly Asian features and long, glossy black hair. And in her dainty little hands was a deadly looking pistol, aimed directly at my chest.

  “Who are you?” she repeated in a surprisingly deep and husky voice. She didn't sound at all like she looked. “And don't think for a minute that I don't know how to use this thing,” she added.

  “My name is Killian Kendall,” I said as calmly as I could manage while having a gun pointed at me. “Are you a police officer?”

  “I'll ask the questions, thank you. What are you doing in Paul's apartment?”

  She said Paul's apartment, I noted, so she is most likely not a cop. Didn't Micah say something about a neighbor of Paul's that he was very close to? What was her name? Not for the first time I wished I was better with names. I tried to decide if I should lie and say I was a friend of Paul's, or tell the truth. I decided that, in this case at least, the truth was the best policy.

  “I'm a private investigator,” I told her. “I'm investigating the murder of Paul Flynn.”

  “You look a little young to be a private investigator.”

  “I can't help that.”

  “Who hired you?”

  “Micah Gerber. He asked me to look into Paul's murder since the police don't seem to be taking a great interest in it.”

  “Micah?” she asked warily, the gun wavering ever so slightly.

  “Yes.”

  “How do I know you're telling the truth?”

  Good question. Just then, the name I was searching for surfaced. “Are you Sabrina?” I asked. Her eyes widened. I took that as a yes and went on, “Micah said you were a good friend of Paul's. Maybe you can help me find out who killed him.”

  The gun dropped a little farther, but I kept my hands in the air. I wasn't about to
risk my life with any sudden moves.

  “How'd you get in here?” she asked.

  “Micah gave me a key.”

  That seemed to be what she wanted to hear. The gun dropped to her side and she stepped back from the door.

  “Will you help me?” I asked, lowering my hands very slowly, but keeping them in her view.

  “I'll talk to you, but I think we should go to my apartment. If someone comes along, I don't want to be standing here with Paul's door wide open. It would not look good.”

  There was no arguing with her logic, so I moved slowly forward, still not willing to risk spooking her as long as she held that gun. I ducked under the police tape, locked the door, and pulled it closed behind me. The door next to Paul's was standing open and Sabrina stepped to one side of it and motioned with the gun as if to say `after you'. She wasn't going to give me the chance to get behind her, a smart move on her part had I been someone dangerous. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chris peek around the corner and I motioned surreptitiously for her to remain hidden. I stepped into her apartment and took a quick look around. As you entered the apartment you found yourself in a large open space that served as a living room/dining room. The kitchen opened off of it straight ahead, and to the right of the kitchen was a closed door that I assumed led to a bedroom. It wasn't large, but Sabrina had tastefully decorated her living space with a blend of antique furnishings and Asian art.

  “Have a seat,” she said casually, as if she entertained guests at gunpoint all the time. Then again, for all I knew, she did.

  I sat gingerly on the edge of her scroll-backed Victorian sofa and looked at her expectantly. She sat across from me on an uncomfortable looking carved wooden chair. Seeing her clearly for the first time, I realized how beautiful she was. Her features were delicate and refined, making her look remarkably like a finely-sculpted china doll. And then she spoke and ruined the effect.

  “Would you like a drink?” she asked in her strangely hoarse voice.

  “Er, uh, no thanks,” I managed. It wasn't a question I had expected.

  “So Micah asked you to find Paul's killer?” She fiddled with the gun in her lap, making me more than a little nervous.

  “Yes. Um, do you think you could set the gun down? It's making me a little uncomfortable. I promise I'm not going to hurt you, but if it makes you feel better you can set it on the table right next to you where you can grab it if you need to.”

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. She looked down at the gun in surprise, as if she'd forgotten she was holding it. “This?” She aimed the gun at my chest once again and pulled the trigger before I could react. I flinched but nothing happened. “It's not real,” she explained. “I bought it at a women's safety conference I went to a few years ago. It's just meant to scare people. I don't like real guns.”

  I stared at her in disbelief. “What would you have done if I'd attacked you?”

  She blinked as if the thought had never occurred to her. “Hit you with it?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Do you even know any self-defense?” I pressed.

  “Yes. What does any of this have to do with Paul?”

  “It doesn't have anything to do with Paul, but if you're going to run around pointing a toy gun at people you'd better be able to defend yourself.”

  “I don't run around pointing it at people,” she said defensively. “Can we get back to the subject at hand?”

  “Your right, I'm sorry,” I apologized. “It's really none of my business.”

  “It's ok,” she said with hesitant smile. “I sort of made it your business when I pointed it at you, I guess. So anyway, Micah hired you. Do you actually know him, or did he just hire you?”

  “I know him. We've been dating for a few months.”

  Her mouth formed a little “o” of surprise. “So...wait...you're dating Micah, and you're investigating the murder of his ex-lover?”

  I gave her a wry grin. “That about sums it up.”

  “Wow. Either you're a better man that I am, or you guys have a weird relationship.”

  “The latter most likely.”

  “Well, how is Micah?”

  “He's...good, I guess. He's been shaken up over Paul's murder. I don't think he was completely over him.”

  She frowned. “Did you know Paul?”

  “No, I'm not from around here. Can you tell me about him?”

  “Where do I start?” she sighed. “He was a sweetheart. I miss him so much. I keep thinking I'm going to run into him in the hall, I don't think it's really sunk in yet that he's gone.”

  “Were you good friends?”

  “Yes, very good friends. We talked pretty much every day, and I don't just mean in the hallway. He'd come over for a drink in the evening if he wasn't working or I'd go over there. Sometime he'd call me at work just to talk.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “I work at the daycare center in the Pentagon.”

  It was my turn to look surprised. I was going to have to work on my poker face. “Were you there...?”

  “September 11th? Yes. I've never been so scared in my life. Paul was waiting here for me when I got home after what seemed like forever. He just held me while I cried myself to sleep. He was a good person, he didn't deserve to die.” She broke off and visibly tried to regain her composure.

  “I talked to Razi Akiba earlier today, do you know him?”

  Her expression changed to look as if she'd bit into something rotten. “Oh, I know him, alright,” she said disdainfully.

  “I take it you don't like him?”

  “No, I don't.”

  “Any particular reason or just general dislike?”

  She thought a moment before answering. “I'm not really certain,” she said finally. “There's just something about him that I don't trust. I always got the impression that he was using Paul, although I couldn't quite explain why. And I know he tried to break Paul and Micah up when they were still dating.”

  “He did? Did Micah know?”

  “Well, I never told him. I talked to Paul about it, but he wasn't concerned. He said they had a solid relationship and it didn't matter what Razi said or did. It was well before Micah started talking about moving.”

  “Why did he want to break them up? Did he want to date Paul?”

  “That's what I thought at the time. But when Micah moved away and Paul was free Razi never made a move that I knew of, which seems strange. If he wanted Paul so badly why didn't he go after him when he was available?”

  “Maybe he's the type that only wants what he can't have.”

  “Well, he does strike me as that type, but still...”

  “Or maybe Razi was dating someone else by then.”

  “That's possible. I certainly don't keep up with his love life. I don't really spend much time in his company. Only if it's one of Paul's rare get-togethers.”

  “After Micah left, did Paul date anyone else?”

  “Not seriously. He always said he was so busy with work that he didn't have the time or energy to date socially. I always thought it might have had something to do with him still being hung up on Micah.”

  “So there's no angry, jilted ex-boyfriend?”

  “Not that I'm aware of.”

  “Did he have any enemies that you know of?”

  “No. That's what's so scary about all this. It seems so random, and yet, the way he died-it seems more like a murder with a lot of passion behind it.”

  “Passion?”

  “Yes, strong emotion. Somehow, it doesn't feel-what's the word police use? Premeditated? There are so many ways to kill someone if you just want to get rid of them; poison, shooting, a planned accident. Strangling someone seems like a very heat of the moment thing to do. It's a very personal way to kill someone. They're actually in your hands as their life leaves them.”

  I shuddered at the thought. “You sound like you've given this a lot of thought.”

  “Oh I have, trust me. I've lain awake almost every night since it
happened wondering. Wondering what it was like for poor Paul in those last seconds. Wondering why on earth someone would want to kill him. I just don't understand it.”

  “And you probably never will. Most murder is senseless. There's no way you can understand it.”

  “I just wish I could do something.”

  “You can. You can answer my questions and tell me everything you can remember.”