“And you decided it wasn’t a good idea to kill your future father-in-law,” Jeff said.
“Right. When I became rational, I realized just what it would do to Emily’s and my future together. She’d been through enough without me screwing everything up even more.” He smiled ruefully at Peter. “Then I remembered our lunch date, looked at my watch, and saw I was way late. I ran all the way to the restaurant. I guess that’s why I looked so untidy, something you remarked on when I showed up.” He paused. “You do believe me don’t you?”
“Of course we do,” Peter said immediately
Jeff was amused at Peter’s willingness to let Jerry off the hook so quickly. He would have to remind him later that it was his suspicious mind that had put Jerry on the hot seat in the first place. He had to admit though, that the story was credible.
“I think that you were feeling what just about any decent human being would feel in the same circumstances. Peter will tell you, when I found out what Hastings had been up to, I was pretty pissed off.”
Jerry breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I couldn’t let you guys go on thinking I could mess up Emily’s life even more. I’m just glad I didn’t make a terrible mistake and ruin everything for us both. Let’s join the others. I think I’ll enjoy this evening a lot more now.”
They went out onto the patio where Johnny was busy lighting the barbecue and Gloria and Emily sat quietly talking.
“There you guys are.” Johnny beamed at them “Everything kosher?”
“Everything’s fine,” Jerry said, walking over to Emily and sitting by her.
“I thought it best I had a word with Jerry about what we had talked of earlier,” Johnny said. “Hope you don’t mind. He told me why he was late meeting Peter and it sounded like the truth to me.” He looked quizzically at them “What do you think?”
“We agree,” Peter said, then gave Jeff a guilty look. “Don’t we?”
Jeff chuckled then smiled at Gloria as she walked over to them. “You look particularly beautiful tonight.”
“What a charmer.” Gloria nudged her husband. “It takes a gay guy to appreciate a beautiful woman.”
“I would argue with that statement, actually.” Johnny leered at his wife and kissed her neck.
“I meant
aesthetically
, of course. You just want to ravish me.”
“Lucky you,” Peter said.
Gloria kissed them both on the cheek, then whispered, “Old Charlie’s funeral is tomorrow at two o’clock. They managed to get a hold of Paula, finally, but she says she’s not coming back for it. Patricia is on the warpath, that’s why Anthony’s not here. He said he thought he should stay with her tonight.”
“Poor Anthony,” Johnny muttered. “And Paula’s finally showing her true feelings for her old man.”
“Well, I don’t want to go either,” Gloria hissed. “But Emily’s begged me to. Will you guys come?”
Jeff shook his head. “I can’t, I’m afraid. Too many appointments tomorrow.”
“I’ll go, I guess,” Peter said reluctantly. “Just for moral support.”
“Well, it’s all for show anyway. Can’t imagine there will be a big turn out.”
Emily and Jerry joined them at that moment and Gloria changed the subject quickly. “How’s the portrait coming along?” she asked Peter.
“Almost finished. It should be at the framers by the end of the week.”
“That’s great,” Jerry said. “We’ll have to celebrate. But just us…” he said looking quickly at Emily. “No big party.”
“I want you both to accept it as a wedding gift from Jeff and myself.”
“Oh Peter, we can’t let you do that,” Emily exclaimed. “You’ve put so much time into it.”
Jerry nodded. “Emily’s right. I did commission you. I can’t let you do this for nothing.”
“I insist,” Peter said. “Believe me, it was a pleasure—and we’ve made some new friends in the process.”
“Okay, you guys,” Johnny yelled. “Stand back; I’m putting the steaks on the
barbie. Time to chow down!”
§ § § §
On the way home Jeff said, “That was nice of you, to give them the portrait
as a wedding gift.”
“I look at it as a good luck charm.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning I hope it brings them all the luck they deserve. That’s all.”
Jeff was silent for a moment then he said. “You still think Jerry’s in the
clear?”
Peter glanced at him with surprise. “Don’t you?”
“I want to believe him, of course,” Jeff said, slowly. “But he admits to being
t
here at the office, and if he did kill Hastings, he’d still have had to run all the
way back to meet you. And he did lie about the last minute business.”
“Well…” Peter chuckled. “He probably didn’t want to tell me he’d just been contemplating
doing in old man Hastings. Don’t you think you’re being
a tad too suspicious now?”
“Hey, you’re the one who started me on this road, don’t forget.”
“But I believe what he said, about not wanting to cause Emily any more
grief.”
“Yeah, it’s a good story,” Jeff murmured “And for the record, I
hope you’re right.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jeff stood in front of his closet looking at the rows of clothes before him. What to wear for his meeting at Benny’s Bar? Should he go casually in polo shirt and jeans like some yuppie on his day off— or in a business suit, looking like he’d taken time out from a heavy schedule to keep this appointment? He finally decided on a light gray two piece suit, white shirt, and royal blue tie.
Fortunately, Peter had decided to leave early and spend some time with Gloria and Emily before the funeral, so Jeff had avoided excuses as to why he was dressing so formally. He very rarely wore a tie these days, and frankly hated the feel of a closed shirt collar. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he felt fairly satisfied with his appearance. No doubt he could pass for a successful business man with some money to burn on whatever his fancy chose.
Earlier, he had called Detective McKenna and updated him on his progress checking out Anthony’s alibi.
“So it looks like the kid’s story holds up,” McKenna had remarked.
“Looks that way. Listen, McKenna, I got a lead on some extracurricular activity that Hastings was involved in and I’ll be following up on that today.”
“Tell me more. Who gave you this lead?”
“I’d rather keep that confidential, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind. I expect you to cooperate with us instead of trying to keep information from us.”
“Well, I’m not about to divulge my source, but I will tell you that I’m meeting one of Hastings contacts at Benny’s Bar on Harbor at three today.”
“Contacts?”
“Yeah, someone representing some kind of covert circle of sex on demand that Hastings used to satisfy his taste for little girls.”
“Christ. We’d better be there too.”
“Look, McKenna, it might be better if there aren’t any cops around. We don’t want to scare the guy off right away. I have a feeling the first meeting is a way of checking me out before they get down to business.”
“Could be you’re right. Okay, we’ll keep our distance, but don’t try any heroics. You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”
Jeff had actually felt better now that McKenna knew where he would be. No harm in having a little back up should his assignation turn ugly, for whatever reason.
§ § § §
Sitting in the chapel by himself, Peter looked around at the dozen or so people in attendance at Charles Hastings’ funeral. Johnny had been right. The turnout was small, surprisingly so for a man of his stature in the business world. Apart from the family, he did not recognize any of the mourners—if they could be called that.
He looked over his shoulder and his eyes dwelled for a moment on a man sitting near the back of the chapel. A dark haired man with a black moustache who met Peter’s gaze for a moment before quickly looking away again. Peter felt a prickle on the back of his neck from the contact.
He was seated in the row behind the family. Anthony turned and smiled at him then in an instant the smile was changed to a sneer as his eyes flicked beyond Peter. Turning round again, Peter saw a rather nondescript man with stooped shoulders walking down the aisle. The man’s eyes nervously avoided Anthony’s glare of dislike. He took a seat some distance from the rest of them and sat with his head bowed, not looking at anyone. Peter glanced again at Anthony who was once again looking straight ahead. He breathed a slow sigh of relief. He had, for a moment, anticipated a confrontation of some kind between the two men.
Emily, Jerry, Gloria, and Johnny were sitting with Patricia, who was all but ignoring them, preferring to press against Anthony’s side and sob quietly into his arm. Peter felt an acute discomfort as he sat observing everyone. Something was making his skin crawl, and a faint feeling of nausea crept over him insidiously. He turned to look at the dark haired man again, but this time the man kept his gaze averted. Peter shook himself slightly and hoped this charade would soon be over. At that moment the minister took his place in the pulpit and began to intone what he hoped would be words of comfort for the assemblage.
The man obviously had never known Charles Hastings personally, or his words would have choked him. As the phrases “pillar of the community” and “august humanitarian”, slipped smoothly from his lips, Peter heard Emily give a short bark of laughter, covered by a pretended cough. Without hesitation, the minister continued his silky oration, but seemed extremely put out when his invitation for anyone to stand and eulogize the departed was totally ignored.
Clearing his throat hurriedly, he drew the ceremony to a conclusion, and with great relief everyone walked out into the sunny Californian afternoon. Peter stood off to one side as the few who had attended whispered their commiserations to Patricia then quickly departed. He watched with fascination as Anthony strode over to the man he had seen him glaring at earlier and blocking the man’s path as he tried to reach his car.
Anthony got in the man’s face. “You have some fucking gall showing up here, Doctor
Tom
.”
The doctor quailed under Anthony’s fury and tried to push past him.
“Anthony, please don’t.”
Peter hurried toward them, certain Anthony was going to strike the man, but Jerry and Johnny got there first. Jerry took Anthony’s arm and pulled him away from the trembling doctor.
“Don’t do this, Anthony.”
Johnny signaled for the doctor to leave. The man needed no second bidding, but darted into his car and sped off. Anthony stood silently seething with rage, watching the car disappear then he pulled himself free of Jerry’s grasp. For a moment, no one spoke. Jerry and Johnny looked awkwardly at each other, unsure of what to do. Peter motioned for Emily and Gloria to join them, Patricia following in their wake.
Peter put his hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” He could feel the rage emanating from the young man.
“Sorry,” Anthony muttered. “I lost it there for a moment.”
Patricia pushed herself in front of Peter, tugging at her son’s arm. “Take me home please, Anthony,” she whined. Anthony looked over her head at Peter with despair in his eyes.
“We’ll all take you home Mrs. Hastings,” Peter said. “I think we could all use a good drink right about now.”
§ § § §
Jeff entered Benny’s Bar just before three o’clock. He glanced around the dimly lit room, then sauntered over to the bar and ordered a beer. He over-tipped the bar tender, picked up his drink, walked over to a table, sat down, and waited. The bar was sparsely occupied. A man and woman at one table talking in low whispers—another man on his own sitting in a corner staring directly at Jeff. Could this be the contact or was the guy trying to pick him up? Jeff changed his mind on both counts when the man’s stare became a glare of intense dislike.
He drew in a quick breath of surprise as someone slid onto the seat next to him.
“Mr. Stevens?”
“That’s right.” The man pushed a card across the table to him then left. Jeff picked up the card. It had a phone number on it and a message…
Ask the bar tender to dial
this number.
Jeff rose from his seat, again aware of the man in the corner’s hostile expression. He walked over to the bar and handed the card to the bar tender who immediately picked up the phone and dialed the number, then handed the phone over to Jeff. It was answered on the first ring.
“Mr. Stevens?”
“Yes.”
“You are interested in our product?”
“Yes, I am.”
“It will cost you fifteen hundred dollars. Are you still interested?”
“Yes.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jeff saw a young blonde girl climb on to a bar stool next to him. She ordered a drink, then turned and smiled at him.
“Remain in the bar,” the voice continued. “You will be contacted.” The line went dead. Jeff smiled at the young woman as he walked back to his table. A moment later she sat opposite him.
“You looking for some company?”
“You could say that.” Jeff wondered for a moment if she could be the contact.
“Cost you a hundred.”
Jeff dismissed the likelihood that she was the go between. No, just a hooker on the make.
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Fifty, then. You’re a good looking guy. I’ll cut you a deal.”
“That’s very generous of you,” Jeff said. “But I’m waiting for someone.”
“Screw you!” Offended, the blonde lurched to her feet and stomped off somewhat shakily on dangerously high platform shoes.
Jeff slipped further down in his chair and looked around the gloomy interior. One or two other patrons had sidled in, ordered drinks, and had taken up various positions in the bar. The man who had stared at him with such dislike earlier was still there and still glaring at him. Jeff studied him briefly. About forty years old, dark brown hair receding from his temples.
Not a happy guy
, Jeff thought as the man continued to cast a cold look in his direction.
He was just about to go over and ask what the deal was when another man sat down at the table.
“Mr. Stevens?”
Jeff locked eyes with a swarthy middle aged man.
“Yes. And you are?”
The man was about forty five, thickset, and Jeff guessed him to be Middle Eastern, probably Iranian.