by J. P. Bowie
“Justin?” They heard Anthony’s voice from inside the room. “Thank God. But no, I’m not all right. He’s got me tied to the bed. I’ve knocked him out I think. Oh—son of a bitch, he’s coming to.”
Justin slammed his shoulder against the door, but it budged not an inch. “Ouch!” He rubbed his shoulder ruefully. “That door is solid.”
“Wait,” Jeff said, “we need backup.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.
“Let’s try again.” Justin grabbed Peter by the arm while Jeff waited for an operator to answer. Together they put their full weight against the door, but again it refused to give.
“Hurry!” Anthony now yelled. “The bastard’s getting up. Hurry!”
Bob was on his feet and, snarling with rage, he advanced on Anthony, hands outstretched to grip his throat. Anthony kicked out with both his feet aimed straight at his assailant’s chest, and caught him a punishing blow on the sternum. Bob staggered backward then, arms flailing, he crashed to the floor again. Screaming with impotent rage, Bob jumped to his feet, his hands clutching his chest.
Outside, Justin was pale with frustration as he listened to the chaos within. “We’ve got to get in there.”
“I know—everyone calm down,” Jeff said. “Okay, we need a concerted effort. All three of us at the same time. That should do it. On my count: one, two, three!”
This time the door cracked under the weight of all three bodies and burst free from its hinges. Peter found himself sprawled on the bedroom floor, looking up at the naked hairy body of Bob Thomson, and just managed to dodge a kick to the head. Justin careened into Thomson and the two of them hit the floor, Thomson on top. Jeff grabbed him by the shoulders, yanked him to his feet, and delivered a punch to his jaw that sent him down again. This time he did not get up.
Justin sprang to his feet and rushed over to where Anthony lay, still tied to the bed. He loosened the cords then pulled Anthony into his arms and gave him a long and meaningful kiss.
“I’m naked, you know,” Anthony whispered. “And the effects of that kiss are definitely showing.” Justin smiled at him and covered him with the edge of the comforter to hide his arousal.
Peter and Jeff looked at each other and grinned. All was going to be well there.
Jeff hauled Thomson to his feet again. “Get your clothes on Bob, before the cops get here.”
Sullenly, Thomson began pulling on his pants. “How did you know to come here?”
“I just had a feeling you’d try something like this,” Jeff told him.
“Wait a minute,” Peter huffed. “I’m the one who had the premonition of trouble.”
“Well…” Anthony said from the shelter of Justin’s arms. “…Jeff did try to warn me earlier, but I wouldn’t listen.”
“We owe both of you our thanks,” Justin said diplomatically. “I can’t imagine what that bastard would have done if it hadn’t been for you two.”
“Well, I can,” Anthony said grimly. “And it wouldn’t have been pretty.”
Jeff pushed Bob toward the door as he heard the sirens followed by police cars pulling up outside. “Okay, Mr. Thomson. Time to face the music.”
Peter chuckled. “That’s a bit corny, isn’t it?”
§ § § §
“So, the man who killed my father did it out of revenge for what happened to his daughter?” Anthony said after listening to Jeff’s recounting of what McKenna had told him earlier.
Jeff nodded. “I don’t think he went there deliberately to kill your father. From what he said, it looks like he wanted to scare him—threaten to expose him I guess, but they got into a fight.”
The four men were sitting in the living room of Anthony’s home, drinking coffee and trying to wind down after the excitement of the previous hours. The police had hauled Thomson away and Jeff had called Joe French to let him know.
“And this doctor my father took the kid to…do they know who he is?” Anthony asked.
“Not so far,” Jeff replied. “The girl was a bit hazy on that part. I expect she was pretty scared and in quite a bit of pain. But I’m guessing whoever it was had to be an associate of your father’s.”
For a moment a hint of recognition glinted in Anthony’s eyes then he said, “God...My father. Even I couldn’t imagine he’d sink this low.”
Justin took his hand and squeezed it gently to comfort him. An awkward silence fell on the room as no one could think of anything to say for the moment.
Peter cleared his throat. “Well, at least it’s all over and you can get on with your lives.”
Anthony’s voice quivered slightly as he asked Justin, “How do you feel about being around the son of a monster?”
Justin squeezed Anthony’s hand. “You don’t have to worry about that. We might have just met a few days ago and there’s a whole lot I don’t know about you, that’s for sure—but one thing I’m pretty certain of—you’re not like your father.”
Peter looked at Jeff and signaled with his eyes that it was time to go.
“Okay…” Jeff stood up on cue. “We have to be on our way. You guys have a lot to talk about and you should call your mother to give her the news about Feldman.”
“Will do.” Anthony smiled at them. “And, again, thanks for everything. I owe you so much…including my life.”
“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” Justin said, shaking hands with Jeff and Peter. “And let me add my thanks for saving Anthony from….”
“From a fate worse than death.” Anthony chuckled. “I definitely know what that means now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Emily and Jerry stood on the steps of the registrar’s office and smiled happily for the photographer. Emily was wearing a white silk jacket and long skirt and, Jerry thought, as he gazed at her, had never looked lovelier. Their friends and families looked on as the happy couple kissed and Emily tossed her small bouquet into the crowd. Everyone laughed as a blushing Anthony caught it by accident.
“Oh, my God,” he yelped. “What do I do with this?”
Emily kissed his cheek. “Keep it, silly,” she whispered, “and you’ll get married next.”
“You just might be right, Sis,” he whispered back. They hugged each other tightly then he released her and held out his hand to Jerry. “I’m so happy for you both.”
Jerry ignored the intended handshake and instead put his arms around his new brother-in-law. “Thank you. At least you are here today,” he said, alluding to the fact that neither Emily’s mother nor sister had attended the wedding. Paula had sent congratulations but was just ‘too busy’ to come to her younger sister’s wedding and Patricia was still ‘in mourning.’
Anthony had soon found out that there were still some obstacles to be overcome before he and Justin could be happy together. His reunion with his mother had been less than joyful, particularly when he’d introduced Justin as his boyfriend. Patricia had simply ignored Justin’s presence and walked out of the room. Later, she and Anthony had a bitter confrontation. His mother had glared at him as he told her of his relationship with Justin.
“You are not the son I thought you were. I can never accept that kind of behavior. All my children are now the most profound disappointment to me.”
Anthony had attempted reasoning with her, but she would not be moved.
Justin had tried to console him by telling him his mother would eventually come around and accept her son’s sexual identity, but much as he would have believed that, Anthony knew his mother better. Any woman who could for years deny her husband was molesting her two daughters would now be able to deny her son’s very existence if it suited her to do so.
The day before Emily’s wedding he tried again to persuade her to change her mind about not attending.
She regarded him coldly and said, “There is no way I would ever go to that slut’s wedding.”
Anthony could not mask his shock. “Mom, you can’t mean that.”
“Oh, I mean it all right�
��and as for you Anthony, if you wish to continue seeing Justin you had better look for somewhere else to live. I certainly don’t want to see him here in my home again.”
Anthony tried to find a trace of the mother he loved and whom he thought would never turn her back on him, but what he saw now was a bitter faced shrew seemingly devoid of all maternal instincts.
“So, your love for me was as shallow as that?”
Patricia avoided her son’s glistening eyes. “My love was for the son I thought I knew. What you’re doing now confounds all reason. I don’t know who you are anymore.”
“Mom, I haven’t changed. I have been gay all my life. All the years you loved me, I was gay—don’t you understand that?”
“No, I don’t understand that, nor do I wish to discuss this any further. This whole homosexual thing is abhorrent to me.”
“So now, along with your daughters, you’re throwing me aside. It’s like my father’s reaching out from the grave and still manipulating you, just like he did when he was alive. If you’re content to let that happen, then God help you. You’re going to be a very lonely old lady.”
He’d turned away from her, strangely unmoved. He now knew where his destiny lay and he could not wait to embrace it.
As Jerry held him, Anthony shook his mind clear of those bitter memories and hugged him back.
“Thanks again for being here,” Jerry repeated. “It means the world to Emily, and to me.”
“Wild horses wouldn’t have kept me away.”
Justin walked over and put his arm round Anthony’s shoulders. “Has he told you he’s moving in with me?”
“That’s wonderful news.” Emily winked at her brother. “See? I meant for you to catch the bouquet.”
“Okay, okay…” Jerry’s father approached them. “Stop hogging my new daughter-in-law you guys. It’s time to get to the reception.” He kissed Emily on the cheek. “We have a little surprise for you at the house. Well…not so little actually.”
“What is it?” Emily smiled at her father-in-law and took his arm.
“Patience, young lady. You’ll see.”
Peter and Jeff had gone on ahead to the Lambert’s residence, taking with them the now framed portrait of Emily. They had arranged with the Lamberts to have it temporarily installed in the foyer of their home so that all the guests could see it on their arrival. Peter knew Emily didn’t want a big fuss made of it, but didn’t think she’d object to it being shown, along with all the other gifts.
The last month had been hectic for Jeff, and Peter had nagged him into taking some time off from work after he had helped the police wrap up both murder cases. Jeff had given in to Peter’s pressure and had agreed to a week’s vacation in Hawaii. They were to leave the day after the wedding.
Bob Thomson had confessed to Joey’s murder and in addition faced charges of attempted rape, torture, and kidnapping. He would be gone for a long time.
Feldman, Charles Hastings’ killer, had been arraigned on murder charges also, but Jeff had heard his attorneys were cutting a deal with state prosecutors. The outcome of that was still undecided, but Jeff felt pretty certain the charges would be reduced due to the extenuating circumstances.
The owners of the child prostitution ring had been arrested and were currently in jail without bail pending trial and, as they were non-citizens, possible deportation. McKenna had expressed his thanks to Jeff, and even Sharpe had reluctantly added his.
“Wow,” Peter exclaimed as they pulled up onto the Lambert’s driveway. “Will you look at this place?”
Jeff laughed. “Since when did you become the material boy?”
“But look at it—it’s so grand.”
Jerry had told them it was his father’s pride and joy. He had it built twenty years before from the profits of the first fortune he made. He’d had it copied from the exterior of a castle he had visited in France when he was a boy, never forgetting the grandeur of the place.
“It’s even got turrets.” Peter shook his head in amazement. “Thank God Jerry and Emily got their own place and don’t have to move in here.”
Jeff said. “C’mon, give me a hand with this thing. It weighs a ton. What’s it framed with anyway—marble?”
“Don’t be crass, my man.” Peter assumed a haughty air. “A good frame is made from only the best woods you know.”
“Feels like you have the whole tree in here.”
They were stalled in their banter by the arrival of two men who announced they were in Mr. Lambert’s employ and would take care of the heavy package.
“Mrs. Lambert has left us instructions on where to place it, sir,” one of the men told them as they shouldered the painting and carried it toward the house, Peter and Jeff following.
They entered the foyer of the house and found it even more opulent than the exterior.
“Jeez,” Peter whispered. “I feel like I’m in a museum.”
“Ssh…” Jeff watched the men prop Peter’s painting on a specially prepared dais by the far wall. They began to strip the wrappings from it and Peter walked over to help.
“Maybe if you turn it this way a little,” he suggested. “It’ll benefit more from the light that way.”
“Certainly sir,” he was told, then given a consultative look as they waited for his approval.
“That’s better. See Jeff? The light from the window in the ceiling there brings out some of the highlights. What do you think?”
“You’re the expert. I just think it looks terrific.”
The sound of voices from the doorway announced the arrival of Jerry’s parents and some other friends and family, along with Anthony and Justin.
“Quickly, everyone,” Jerry’s mother exclaimed. “Gloria’s keeping them busy outside. Everyone stand in front of the portrait so they can’t see it when they first come in.”
The guests scrambled to carry out her orders then waited expectantly for Emily and Jerry to walk in. As they did, the crowd in front of them parted to allow them a view of the portrait at the far end of the foyer.
Emily’s hands flew to her face in surprise and her eyes welled with tears as she gazed at her likeness, brought to life with such cunning craftsmanship.
“Oh, Peter. I can’t thank you enough for this.”
Jerry stood staring at his bride’s portrait with a stunned expression on his face. Finally, he turned to Peter. “I thought it was beautiful the first time I saw it in your studio, but it’s even better now,” he said. “I was right—you are a genius.”
Everyone applauded their approval and gathered around as the waiters appeared with trays of champagne.
“A toast!” Mr. Lambert shouted above the clamor of chatter and laughter. “A toast to my son, Jerry, and his beautiful wife, Emily.”
“Jerry and Emily!” Everyone roared at the tops of their voices.
“And to Peter Brandon,” Jeff whispered. He clinked his glass against Peter’s. “You’ve done it again, kiddo.”
§ § § §
The day after the wedding, Anthony paid Doctor Tom Watt a visit. Anthony had thought long and hard about what he would say to the man who had taken his innocence all those years ago. Several times, over the years, he’d contemplated confronting the doctor, but then would put his anger aside, thinking perhaps that Watt was filled with remorse for what he’d done and that might be punishment enough.
But this latest development, where the doctor had willingly aided and abetted his father in his revolting pursuit of young girls, Anthony could not forgive. The excuse that Anthony’s father might have been putting the screws to the doctor, blackmailing him, perhaps, into helping him because of what Charles Hastings knew of the doctor’s own weakness, would no longer do. Doctor Tom Watt had shown little compassion for the young victims—now Anthony would show him that same lack of compassion.
The doctor cringed visibly as Anthony entered his office unannounced. “Anthony,” he croaked, getting shakily to his feet. “What on earth are you doing here?”
“Why Doctor Tom, aren’t you pleased to see me?” Anthony smiled at him as he settled himself, uninvited, into the soft leather chair opposite the doctor’s.
Watt collapsed back into his own chair and gaped at the young man he had molested years before. Nervously, he shuffled some papers in front of him. “I’m very busy, Anthony. You should make an appointment, you know.”
“Cut the bullshit, Doc,” Anthony said coldly. “I think you know why I’m here.”
“To exact revenge, I expect. But, surely that’s all water under the bridge. Look at you…” The doctor’s attempted smile looked more like a grimace “A fine, handsome young man in the best of health. No harm’s been done apparently.”
“You’re right, actually Doc. No harm’s been done, to me. But that’s not why I’m here. It’s like you said—water under the bridge. I don’t blame you for my being gay. I was probably gay before you sodomized and brutalized me.”
The doctor flinched before Anthony’s steady gaze.
“If anything, what you did to me should have repulsed me for life, but fortunately, I met someone who showed me that physical contact between two men, when shared with love, can be a beautiful and wonderful thing.”
“That’s—that is wonderful, Anthony.” Watt’s puerile attempt again to smile reminded Anthony of a death mask
“Yes it was, Doc. It was wonderful. The scars you left me were erased somewhat by Mark’s love for me. If my poor departed father had known that by sending me to military school he had given me the chance to meet my salvation, he would have shit.”
“Anthony, please.”
“But, like I said, Doc, that’s not why I’m here.” Again, he smiled across at the older man. “No, I’m here about a little girl.”
“A little girl?” The doctor’s voice quavered. “I—I don’t understand.”
“Let me refresh your memory then.” Anthony let the smile slip from his face. “My father brought a young girl to you some weeks ago, badly beaten I believe, by his own hand. You patched her up then put her out on the street and failed to report this incident to the authorities. From what I understand, this wasn’t the first time you had done this. In fact, it goes way back to when my sister Emily slashed her wrists and you didn’t report that either. Quite a history of cover ups, Doc, isn’t it? How many more times I wonder, did you have to cover up my father’s crimes?”