Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle

by Jeffrey Round

  Dan nodded. “I’ve got some, but not as much as he’ll need.”

  Her jaw line was set. “Then it’s good he’s got two parents.”

  Dan smiled. “I’ll say. In the meantime, what do you think I should say to him? Should I let him know you’ve told me this?”

  “Don’t let him know we’ve been conspiring against him — that’s how he’ll see it, anyway. Just ask him what his plans are. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.”

  She pushed the plate forward and smiled when he grabbed another cookie: men were all children under the skin. They worked best on reward and punishment.

  “How’s Domingo?” she asked.

  Dan’s look darkened. An old friend, a recurrence of cancer. He preferred not to dwell on it. “I don’t like it. We talk a few times a week, but it sounds like she’s resigned.”

  Kendra shook her head. “I’m so sorry to hear that. It’s never good when the patient stops fighting. Did she decide to do the chemo at least?”

  “Yes, but I gather this next round is the last, if she makes it. She seems to think there’s no use. She just wants to enjoy whatever time she has left rather than turn it into some heroic struggle.”

  “I’m sorry, Dan. I know she means a lot to you. Just be there for her.”

  “I will. For now, she’s getting the best help she can. That’s what counts.”

  His cell rang as he pulled up in front of his house. It was Donny. He’d held out longer than Dan expected. Friends for more than a decade, Donny had been a constant in Dan’s life, the still point around which his compass revolved. When Dan had passed off a street youth for temporary shelter to Donny several years earlier, the pair had become a family unit: black father and white son. In Dan’s opinion, Donny had never seemed so suited to anything as he had to fatherhood, however convulsively it had begun. It had also seemed to put them on par again, both of them friends as well as fathers.

  “You didn’t like him.”

  “Is that a question?”

  “No, I could tell. You weren’t warm to him.”

  “Do lawyers do ‘warm’? I thought they were all cold-blooded.”

  “Primarily, yes, but this one is a little different.”

  “Because you dated him once?”

  “I’m telling you, Charles is a nice guy.”

  Dan wasn’t about to let him off the hook easily. “Fine, but I dislike the breed on principle.”

  Donny spluttered. “He’s a lawyer, yes, but a lawyer who has never done anything to you!”

  “Yeah, but he would for money.”

  A long pause ensued. Dan glanced up and down the tree-lined street in Leslieville that he called home. Calm, peaceful. If it hadn’t been for that, he might not have been able to endure the city for as long as he had. It was here he’d given his son the sort of childhood that he, Dan, had never had.

  “So will you take the case?” Donny asked.

  “Tell him I’m still thinking about it.”

  “You’re too much. Really, you are!”

  “Many would concur. How’s Lester? I didn’t get a chance to ask you at lunch with all the overriding concern from your lawyer.”

  Donny huffed. “Lester is fine. He just got an internship with a poverty outreach program.”

  “Great news. Tell him I’m thrilled for him.”

  “I will. With all his experience on the streets, he should be good at it. I’m very proud of him. Plus he’s got that band on the side. He’s passionate about his horn. Maybe not quite Miles Davis, but you never know. Still no talk of moving away from home, but now that the bird has wings it won’t be long before he flies off.”

  Dan recalled Kendra’s comment about Ked’s unwillingness to abandon him.

  “Funny, Ked’s the opposite. He’s afraid to leave me on my own.”

  “He knows you too well.”

  “Yeah, there’s that.” Dan looked up at the house. “I just got home. Call you later.”

  “Think about the case!”

  Ked stood watching him from the shadows. These days he seemed to hover a lot, Dan thought. Wasn’t that what kids were always accusing their parents of doing? Ralph, a geriatric ginger retriever, lay on a pillow in one corner. His eyes flickered occasionally from one to the other of them if he heard a word that sounded like it promised food or a walk.

  “How’s school?” Dan asked.

  “Cool. There’s a science fair coming up. I’m thinking of entering an idea I had for making a sling psychrometer.”

  Dan’s expression was blank.

  “It’s a device for measuring relative humidity.”

  “Great!”

  “It’s not as dull as it sounds, Dad.”

  Dan smiled. “I don’t think it sounds dull, just a little outside my field of expertise. Is this the sort of thing you’ll be studying in university?”

  Ked warmed to the question. “Pretty much. It’s in the same field of earth, ocean, and atmosphere studies.”

  Dan nodded. “You’ll be meeting a lot of new people soon and your life’s going to change in many ways. Have you thought about where you want to go to study?”

  Ked looked out the window. “I want to stay here. There are programs at York and U of T. I’ll probably get in one or the other of them.”

  “Is that where you want to go?”

  Ked turned back to his father. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Those are both good universities. But are they the best for you? If it’s a matter of cost, your mother and I are willing to help you make up whatever you don’t have the funds for.”

  Ked looked indifferent. “I just thought it was better for you if I stayed in Toronto.”

  “For me? Don’t do that.”

  His son’s eyes expressed surprise. Not the pleasant kind.

  “But —”

  Dan cut him off. “Don’t live your life to please me, Ked. Or your mother or anyone else. Live your life in the way you see best fit for your needs. It’s your future we’re talking about.”

  “But I thought you would want me here.” He sounded disappointed.

  “Don’t misunderstand me. If it suits your purpose, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’re going to school. Or longer, if you like. But don’t do it for me. That isn’t a sacrifice any son or daughter should ever have to make.”

  “But I don’t want you to be alone.”

  “That’s up to me. Besides, I’ve got Ralph. We’ve made peace in our old age.”

  Dan smiled to himself. Parenting? What parenting? If asked about his fathering style, he would profess that he didn’t have one. When it comes to kids, Dan advised others, just love them as much as you can, teach them good manners and respect for others, then get out of the way and let them be. If it works, you can be thankful. If it doesn’t, it’s probably not your fault.

  “Even Ralph won’t be here forever,” he added. “Everybody leaves home at some point.”

  “I guess.” Ked still looked perplexed.

  “Whatever happens, happens,” Dan said. “As we go through life, we learn to deal with whatever comes up. It’s not always good. People lose arms, breasts, get cancer, divorce. That’s life. You can’t prevent it.”

  “I know that.”

  “But what you may not know is how it feels.” He pointed to his head. “I know you understand it here.” His hand moved down to his heart. “But this is where it’s going to get you, if you’re not prepared. And no matter how much you dislike it, you can’t stop it from happening.”

  Ked frowned as though his father had been lecturing him on his behaviour.

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like an old-fashioned parent. Next I’ll be telling you I’m saying all this for your own good.” Dan smiled wanly. “Which I am, of course.”

  He stopped and checked an incoming text. It was from someone named Lionel, claiming to be an accountant and asking to meet as soon as possible. This, he presumed, was the other half of Donny’s “perfect couple.” There was a pub li
sted at the bottom of the text. He hadn’t even agreed to take the job. It was presumptuous, but that was how the rich operated.

  He looked up at his son. “Think about what I’m saying, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “If you want me to help you rank the different universities, I can do that, though you probably know them well enough by now.”

  Ked smiled. “I do.”

  “Good.” He paused. “There’s a dog over in the corner in need of a walk.”

  “Yeah, yeah … I know.”

  Dan glanced back at the text. He didn’t want to disappoint Donny, though that was a feeble excuse for accepting a job he didn’t want. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be polite.

  He typed a reply: I’m good for 7. Then for Donny’s sake he added: Looking forward to it.

  Four

  Accountable

  Dan cast his gaze around the bar’s interior. Brass fittings, rough-hewn tables, hockey pennants on the walls. It wasn’t the sort of place he would expect an accountant to frequent, particularly a gay accountant, but it suited his purpose, which was simply to hear the man’s story, offer sympathy for his plight as he quaffed a single beer, then politely tell him to refer the case to the police. Due diligence done. His favour to Donny signed, sealed, and delivered. He’d offered to listen and listen he would. After that, it was out of his hands.

  The man who came through the door was dressed in a bulky sweater over a track suit. Nicely muscled forearms and solid chest. Easy on the eyes. More athlete than accountant, Dan decided. Which went a long way toward explaining the casual sports pub atmosphere. He plunked himself down on the bench like a tennis player who had just played a particularly challenging round, winning both game and tournament.

  “Hi, I’m Lionel.”

  He smelled of cool things, minty and fresh. Dan could imagine running his hands through this man’s hair. Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.

  “Dan.”

  They shook and a waiter took their orders.

  “Good eye,” Dan said. “How did you spot me so quickly?”

  “Charles described you well. I think he might say you’re somewhat of a ‘type.’”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  Over in a corner, someone scored a goal on a wide-screen TV and the bar was pandemonium for a moment before settling back into its dull routine of drinking and watching.

  Lionel’s eyes met Dan’s again. The gaze held.

  “Thanks for meeting me.” Lionel blushed. “I wasn’t sure at first if it was a good idea. I didn’t want to involve you and compromise anything to do with your work principles, but Charles insisted I at least hear what you have to say. He seems to think we’re all on common ground. Charles isn’t the most trusting person, so when he said you were on the level, I took his word for it.”

  Dan didn’t say that being given the thumbs-up by a lawyer wasn’t his measure of a vote of confidence.

  “I understand a little about your predicament,” Dan said, “but maybe you could fill in a few gaps. Whatever you’re comfortable telling me. I know that some of the things you did for Yuri Malevski may have skirted the bounds of regular accounting practices. I won’t pry, but at least be assured you can be as frank with me as you choose.”

  Lionel’s face showed relief. “Thanks. It makes it easier for me to talk to you just knowing that.”

  Dan watched him. In that instant, the breezy athlete was gone and a slightly world-weary accountant with real-life human concerns took his place.

  “Since the murder, the police have been snooping around Yuri’s accounts, both business and personal. I’ve been advised by Charles to be truthful in my responses without offering up information that might implicate me in anything questionable.”

  “That’s a smart stance,” Dan agreed.

  The waiter returned with two pints of beer. Dan took a long, satisfying swallow while the hockey game rumbled on overhead.

  “At first it was very routine. They wanted to hear the message Yuri left asking to meet when I returned from Mexico. Luckily I still had it on my phone, so I played it for them. Then the questions started. How often did we meet and what did we discuss and were there any unusual payments made by the bar?” Lionel leaned closer. “I told them I was aware Yuri paid for what we euphemistically called ‘security,’ but I didn’t say that I knew where it went. Technically, I didn’t know who or what he paid in that regard. In actuality, we’re talking about substantial payoffs to the police to leave the bar alone for various reasons, particularly because of the association it had with drugs.”

  “Did Yuri ever ask you to make the payments personally?”

  Lionel shook his head. “No. I made it clear from the start that I was not going to doing anything illegal, with or without his express consent. I did, however, make financial transactions at Yuri’s request, always in cash, from the bar’s profits. I handed them over to someone who, I assume, paid the police directly, but never in my presence.”

  “And who was that?”

  Here, Lionel’s gaze shifted to the far side of the bar, as though he sensed eavesdroppers. The other patrons were so oblivious to anything but the match being played out on the screen that it was hard to imagine anyone’s taking an interest in their low-key conversation.

  Lionel locked eyes with Dan again. “At first, Yuri had a couple of drug dealers running the money for him, but then one of them got busted and that ended that. Over the last couple years he’d been dating a young Cuban guy. That was who was making the payoffs for him.”

  “This was Santiago Suárez?”

  “Yes. My part was simply to take a percentage from Saturday night’s payroll and give it to Santiago in cash. What he did with it or who he gave it to, I have no idea. I always insisted I didn’t want to know.”

  “Did you keep records of the payments?”

  Lionel nodded. “Yes. Scrupulous records, even detailing the denominations of the bills I used to pay him. The transactions were always listed as ‘security.’ Yuri might have passed it off as payment to the regular bouncers the club employed.”

  “Did the police inquire directly into those payments?”

  Lionel shook his head. “No, not yet at least. They have the records, but you know how it goes when police investigate their own. My feeling is they know what the payments were for and they’re trying to see if I know as well.”

  “What will you tell them if they ask?”

  For the first time, Lionel looked afraid.

  “I’m going to tell them I don’t know what they were for other than basic payments to ensure the business was run smoothly. Of course, they don’t know who took the payments from me.”

  “I understand Santiago is an illegal?”

  “Yes.”

  “Which will make it difficult for him to come forward with what he knows, if anything.”

  Lionel nodded.

  “Are you worried the police may find something in Yuri’s personal financial records that would make things difficult for you?”

  Lionel’s cheeks expanded and forcefully expelled air.

  “A lot of what Yuri did bordered on the illegal. As far as I’m concerned — and Charles has already advised me on this — I was just doing what I was paid to do in a strictly legal capacity. I wasn’t there to judge or even snoop around and ask questions. I merely passed money over to one person or another. What those individuals did with the money was between them and Yuri. I made it clear I didn’t want to know about drug payments, for instance. Less dangerous for me. It was just easier that way.”

  Dan nodded. He had probably done more overtly illegal things in pursuit of his own career activities.

  “Money’s a funny thing,” Lionel said. “We all use it in various ways to accomplish many things. Much of what Yuri did with his money helped a great many people in need. It’s funny that so much of it was made in questionable ways. He was sort of a Robin Hood, as far as the gay community was concerned. I mean, we all knew abo
ut the sex and drugs that went through his club. He was well aware of it; in fact he even bene-fited, exacting a percentage from everyone who used his premises for such activities, but he seemed to think it was his duty to use those profits for good.” Lionel looked meaningfully at him. “Whatever may be said of him, I think Yuri Malevski was a hero, not a villain. Everyone in the community turns a blind eye to the goings-on in bars. Yuri chose to embrace it and use it for a positive end. He knew the AIDS community was under-funded for years, long before anyone in government admitted it. I think he chose to do the things he did in order to settle some old scores and balance a few ledgers that were sorely in need of adjusting. We shouldn’t judge him for it.”

  Dan smiled. “I don’t.”

  Lionel gave him another of those soulful glances. “I hope you can do something about this. If I told the police what I know I’d be putting myself in jeopardy. Not to mention Charles. It’s just …”

  His words were drowned out by the racket as another goal was scored. The gaps between real life and its electronic simulacra were not so far apart, Dan thought. There were always going to be winners and losers, no matter what you did or what you tried to avoid.

  The commotion died down again. Lionel reached across the table and gripped Dan’s forearm. “You see … I feel responsible for what happened to Yuri.”

  “How could you be responsible for what happened?”

  “I advised him to stop the payments to the police. I thought, what was the worst they could do? Fine him? Close his bar for a week or two? I didn’t know it would turn out like this.”

  The final words caught in his throat. Dan saw a man who felt a deep accountability for what had happened to his former boss because of a personal conviction aired at the wrong moment. Many of his own clients professed to feeling the same, their lives torn apart by a lie or a harsh word that resulted in the disappearance of a loved one, compounded by the unending grief and guilt that followed.

  Lionel released his arm and sat back. “Charles keeps saying I couldn’t have known what would happen. He says I should stop being so hard on myself. But that doesn’t bring him back, does it?”