The Truth of Yesterday

by Josh Aterovis

  It was obvious that Danielle lived in her own bitter little world. She saw only what she wanted to see. I didn't think I was going to get anything useful out of her. To be honest, I didn't like her and I wanted to get away as quickly as I could. Still, I had a few more questions I needed to ask before I made my escape.

  “So you don't really have any idea what's going on with Jake?” I asked.

  “I already said no. We don't talk anymore.”

  I took a deep breath and decided I was done here. I stood up. “Thanks for your time, Danielle…” I began, but she cut me off.

  “Wait a minute!” she demanded. “What was that all about? Why were you asking all those questions about Jake?”

  She asks that now? I marveled to myself. The logical time to ask that would have been when I was asking the questions, not when I was done and ready to leave. I didn't owe her anything now, but at the same time I had a feeling that if I didn't tell her she's be on the phone to Jake before I was out of the driveway. One the other hand, she seemed like the gossipy type so I couldn't tell her too much.

  “You know I'm a private investigator, right?”

  “So you said on the phone,” she retorted. “What is this so called case anyway? How do I know you're not just hot for Jake's ass like those other guys?”

  I gritted my teeth and counted to ten. “The case is classified,” I snapped. Her eyes narrowed and I knew I'd said the wrong thing. For all her bluff however, I had a feeling that she was really a coward at heart so I decided to try for a little scare tactic.

  “Jake may be involved in something very dangerous,” I told her in a tersely, clipping off each word in my annoyance. “Lives may be at stake, including everyone who he is or was close to.” Her eyes widened at that. This might work after all, and as far as I knew, I wasn't even lying. “I need you to stay very quiet about our talk or you could put the whole case in jeopardy. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Thanks again for your time.” I turned quickly before she could ask anything else and strode across the yard to my car. I jumped in and backed out of their drive before she had even stood up. I hoped I had been convincing enough to keep her quiet. I also hoped I had overstated the case. I was afraid that I may have been all too accurate.

  I drove back to the office with the intentions of calling Paul's other clients. Once at the office, though, I found a message waiting for me from Craig, asking me to call him back. I wondered if he was taking me up on my offer to talk already or if he had something to add to what he'd told me earlier.

  I called him back and he answered on the second ring, as if he was waiting near the phone.

  “Hi, thanks for calling me back,” he said, sounding slightly surprised as if he hadn't expected me too.

  “No problem,” I said. “What's up?”

  “After you left I thought I remembered something, but I wasn't sure about it so I looked it up in my journal. Right before Jake started acting weird, he was real excited one day at school. I asked him why he was so happy and he said he couldn't tell me but that he might have met someone really different from the normal boys around here. He was always going on about how much better the guys were in California.”

  “He didn't tell you anything about this guy he'd met?” I asked.

  “No, sorry.”

  “Craig, you don't have to apologize all the time. It's not your fault, there's nothing to be sorry for. You've just told me something I didn't know before. That's really helpful.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Thank you.”

  “Um, you're welcome.”

  “I have another question for you. Danielle said that Jake dated a lot of guys but that they were never around for very long. Is that the way you saw it?”

  “I guess. Jake always said the guys here were too boring. I got the impression that he missed living in California.”

  “But he said this guy that he'd met was different?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Any idea what he meant by that? Even a guess?”

  “I don't know.”

  “Did he have any specific complaints about the guys here other than that they were boring?”

  “He said they didn't know how to party. And, um…he sometimes tried to get me to do drugs with him. I never would and I don't know where he got them from, but he said no one here knew how to have fun. He always said that when I'd tell him I didn't want to do drugs.”

  “What kind of dugs?”

  “I don't really know. I don't know that much about drugs. I've never done anything. I don't even drink.”

  “Was it pills? Powder? Needles?”

  “Pills mostly.”

  “Mostly?”

  “That's all I ever saw.”

  “But you don't know what kind of pills they were?”

  “No, sorry. Er…I mean…sorry.”

  I stifled a giggle. “It's ok. Thanks Craig, you've been a big help.”

  “I have?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Cool. Um, well, I'll let you get back to work or whatever.”

  “Ok. Thanks again, Craig.”

  “Yeah, you're welcome. Oh, and um, thank you. For, uh, talking to me and stuff.”

  “You're welcome. And don't forget to call me anytime you want or need to talk.”

  “Ok,” he said softly. “Bye.”

  “Bye, Craig.”

  I hung up and thought about the difference between him and Danielle. One was sweet and gentle; one had the grace of a bulldozer. Jake couldn't have chosen two hangers-on that were more different. The only thing that they had in common was their fascination with Jake Davis.

  I took out my notebook and jotted down the little bit of information that I had managed to glean from Craig and Danielle, most of which had been from Craig. That done, I retrieved the papers Neal had sent me. I pulled out the guy who had hung up on me and Luis, who I had already talked to.

  I called the guy on top. He was home but after a brief conversation, it became obvious that he wouldn't have much to add. His visits with Paul had been out-calls, which meant that Paul went to him. He was amazingly unobservant and only remembered Paul's name because he had it written down so he could remember who to ask for when he called.

  The next guy I called still wasn't home, or at least there was still no answer. The guy after that said that he didn't know anything about Paul, that Paul never talked about personal things and always kept everything focused on giving as much pleasure as possible. “We never really talked all that much, if you know what I mean,” he'd said. I was beginning to think that this was going to be a waste of time. It didn't look like Paul talked to anyone very much. I decided to keep calling though. You never knew when you just might strike gold.

  I thought I'd turned up a nugget with my next call, but it turned out to be pyrite, better known as fool's gold. The guy started out talking as if he knew Paul well, but I quickly realized he was only interested in keeping me on the line so he could talk dirty to me. I ended up hanging up on the pervert.

  I called the last two guys and struck out with both of them as well. Paul obviously didn't let anyone inside the emotional walls that he'd built up around himself. Maybe it was self-preservation. In this business, you'd have to keep some sort of distance from the clients. You couldn't very well get emotionally involved with all of them, after all. And that's all it was, a business.

  I almost didn't call the last number back, but I decided I might as well be thorough. I dialed the number and listened to it ring. I was just about to hang up when a young sounding male voice answered.

  “Hello?” they said.

  “Oh, hi,” I said automatically, caught off guard; I hadn't been expecting an answer. “Is this, um…” I scanned the page in front of me for his name. “…Howard Rich?”

  “Are you trying to sell me something?” he asked politely.

  “No, I just have a few questions to ask you. I won't take much of your time,” I
told him.

  “So this is like a survey?”

  “No, I…”

  “Do you want money from me?”

  “No!”

  “Well, in that case, it's Howie, please. I hate the name Howard.”

  “Um, ok, Howie. My name is Killian Kendall, I'm a private investigator.”

  “Really? How interesting. And you want to talk to me?”

  “Yes,” I said, wondering if he would ever allow me to get more than one sentence out at a time.

  “About what?”

  An opening! I didn't waste any time taking it. “Paul Flynn. He was an escort that I believe you were familiar with. He was…”

  “Murdered,” he finished for me sadly.

  “You know?”

  “I saw it on the news. Actually, can I take this in my office? I'll be able to talk to you more freely there.”

  “Yes, of course. I'll wait.”

  I heard him call someone named Eileen to the phone and asked her to hang up after he took it in his office.

  While I waited, I glanced down at the page of notes on Howie and raised an eyebrow in surprise. It appeared that Howie had been seeing Paul for much longer than most of the others had.

  "Ok, I'm back," he said. "You can hang up now." He waited until Eileen had done as he'd requested before he continued. "Yes, I knew Paul. I was shocked to hear about his death. To be honest, I've been having a hard time dealing with it. He was a good person."

  "You'd been seeing Paul for quite a while," I fished. "In fact, quite a bit longer than any of hs other clients." Howie refused to rise to the bait. When the silence had stretched out a little longer than was comfortable, I asked, "How well did you know Paul?"

  “How well do you ever know anyone?” he countered.

  I wasn't about to get drawn into an existential conversation. “It would be very helpful if you could answer my questions.”

  “Why? What are you looking for? Who are you working for? Why are you concerned with Paul's death?”

  “I'm afraid I can't tell you who I'm working for, that's confidential, but I can tell you that I've been hired to look into Paul's death by someone who cared about him. They hired me because the police don't seem to be putting much effort into finding Paul's killer.”

  “So you're trying to find Paul's killer?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sounds dangerous.”

  “Possibly.”

  “What's in it for you?”

  “What?”

  “What do you get out of it?”

  “It's my job.”

  “Ok, if that's what blows your skirt up, but what does any of that have to do with how well I knew Paul?”

  I felt like pounding my head against the desk. First Danielle, then the pervert, and now this. Had I been a bad boy recently? Was I being punished for something? I took a deep breath and tried again.

  “I'm trying to get a grasp of what was going on in Paul's life the last few months. His friends have told me that he became distant and secretive, but no one knows why. What little we've managed to find out has only muddied the waters. I'm hoping to find someone that might be able to clear things up for us. If you knew him well, I was hoping you might be able to help. If you didn't know him well, just let me know now and save us both some time.”

  He was quiet for so long that I began to wonder if he had hung up.

  “Howie?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I'm here,” he answered. “I guess you could say I knew Paul pretty well. We'd become friends. He did see me longer than most of his other clients because he was doing me a favor. Paul's the only man I've ever had sex with. You see, I'm married to a wonderful woman. I was in denial for much of my life and I was married with children before I finally realized that I was gay. I've never told my wife, she's an incredible person and she's the best friend I could ever ask for. I could never leave her and my children, she deserves better than that. But I still had a need to be with men, so I hired Paul. It took care of my needs very well. Paul knew all of this so he agreed to allow me to keep seeing him.”

  I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. After a moment, Howie went on. “Paul was perhaps the sweetest, most gentle man I have ever met. He gave of himself completely and I don't just mean that sexually. I like to think we became friends, I know I cared for him very deeply.”

  “Did you…did you ever talk about Paul's personal life?”

  “To some degree, yes.”

  “Did you notice any change in his over the last few months before his death?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know what was causing those changes?”

  “Yes.”

  My heart caught in my throat. Could this be the answers to all my questions?

  “Let me clarify that,” Howie said quickly. “I knew some of what was going on, but not by any means everything. I don't know details, Paul was too much the professional to name names or give too many details, but I know vaguely what was troubling him.”

  “Can you tell me what you know?”

  “Paul and I did a lot more than just have sex. I'd take him to dinner at nice restaurants that we knew were discreet, we'd take walks along the river, we'd talk for hours after sex. It was while we were talking that I learned that he suspected someone he knew of being involved in something illegal, something serious. He didn't specify what and I didn't ask. Those were the unspoken rules of our conversations like this. He asked me what I thought he should do. I told him that it would depend on what this person was to him. If he was just a casual acquaintance then maybe he should just go straight to the authorities. If it was someone he respected or cared about, I suggested that maybe he should go to that person and speak to them directly.”

  “Did he indicate what he was planning to do?”

  “No, like I said that wasn't how it worked. But you know, ever since I heard that he was murdered, I've worried that it might have been my advice that got him killed.”

  That was a very real possibility, but I wasn't about to tell him that. He already sounded upset as it was. “You have no way of knowing that,” I told him truthfully enough. “You don't know if Paul took your advice or not, and even if he did, if it had anything to do with his murder. That's what I'm trying to figure out. He didn't give you any indication as to who this person was?”

  “No, none.”

  “And that was the last time you saw him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Which was about a month ago?”

  “About a week before he was killed.”

  My thoughts went to the letters the police had found in the safe. It sounded like Paul had taken Howie's advice and confronted the person he suspected of illegal activity. Had it ended with his death? It seemed the more I found out, the more questions I had.

  “One more thing,” I said, thinking about the other contents of the safe. “Do you have any idea who Paul might have been planning on going away with? Maybe on a vacation?”

  He was quiet for a second, then said, “No, but I think Paul might have met someone.”

  “What do you mean by met someone?”

  “Just what I said, I think he'd met someone that he really liked. The last couple times I saw him, he was different somehow, happier and more relaxed. This was before he asked for my advice. I asked him what was going on to put that smile on his face and he just smiled all the more and shook his head. I asked him if he'd met someone special and his smile just grew bigger, if possible. I said he must be someone very special indeed to bring about a smile like that. Then I told him that whoever he was, he was a very lucky guy. Paul changed the subject after that, he never really liked talking about personal things, at least not when it was his personal life being discussed. He was perfectly content to act as my confessional, counselor, and adviser.”

  I fought a sigh. Paul's reticence certainly didn't make investigating him any easier. It would have been so much easier if had just been a little gabbier.

  “Well, thank you, Ho
wie. You've been a help,” I said, adding I think, silently.

  “I'm glad I could help. I hope you catch the bastard that did this. Paul was a…he was a good person.”

  I hung up and sat back in my chair, propping my feet up on the desk. I had so many questions about these cases swimming around in my head. I was having trouble making sense of it all. I was rubbing my chin when I realized I was unconsciously imitating Novak. With a snap of chair springs, I yanked my feet off the desk and sat up straight. I chuckled at myself as I grabbed my keys and headed out the door. I guess there are worse things than discovering you're becoming like your teacher.