First You Fall: A Kevin Connor Mystery (31 page)

“When I met Michael, though, there was a chal enge. It didn’t take me long to figure out what was going on between him and Paul. When I confronted Michael, he thought I’d go to the police.

Imagine that!

“I loved it! His control over Paul was amazing! Oh, together, the things we’d have poor Paul do! I’d be
dripping with
excitement. In the beginning, being with Michael was thril ing. Thril ing!”

She planted her stiletto heel in the smal of his back and pressed down hard. No response.

“But after a while I understood what he real y wanted. Isn’t it what al men want?” She kneeled next to him and stroked his hair. “He wanted to be told what to do. He wanted to be punished,”

She stood up and cracked the whip over his head.

“He wanted Mommy.”

Every top wants to be a bottom.

Alana narrowed her eyes. “What do
you
want, Kevin?”

On her lips, my name sounded like a curse.

“Wel ,” I said, “now that you ask, I would real y, real y like to leave.” I walked towards my clothing.

“And don’t worry—your secrets are safe with me.

You guys just keep on doing … whatever it is you’re doing and I’l be on my way.” I reached for my pants.

“Freeze, faggot,” Alana thundered, pointing her pistol at me. I froze.

“Jesus!” she cried. “My husband, my lover, their father, you—I’m surrounded by faggots!

“Here’s how I see this going down,” she continued. “I shoot you now. When the big dummy wakes up,” she gestured towards Michael, “we’l figure out some way to make it look like you and Paul kil ed each other in a lover’s quarrel. I’l be the grieving widow and no one wil ever be the wiser.

“A year or two from now, I’l marry Michael. With al the money he’s been making at the Center, especial y after I gave him some particularly bril iant suggestions on how to increase his revenue, I think I’l be pretty comfortable, don’t you?”

Now, I was sure who was in charge. It wasn’t Paul.

It wasn’t Michael. It was Alana who held the whip.

Literal y, as it turns out.

“It was your idea to have him make those men kil themselves?” I asked her.

Her grin was pure evil. “Guilty as charged!” she said cheerily. “But those weren’t men,” she added.

“They were faggots, like you.” She looked at Paul.

His face was white as snow, but I could see his chest stil rise and fal . He wasn’t dead. At least not yet.

“Like him. Trust me, they won’t be missed.” Her hatred of gay men, her twisted relationships with the Harrington men … it was Alana who murdered my friend, wasn’t it? I final y figured it out.

“You kil ed Al en, you psychotic little bitch!” I shouted at her. “And I miss him! And Paul misses him too!”

Alana looked at me quizzical y. “Al en? Michael’s father? I didn’t kil Al en. Why would I kil Al en?” Damn. Was I never going to get this right? Who did kil Al en?

She pointed the gun at me.

“You, however, should
not
have cal ed me a bitch.” I had run of out tricks.

There was nothing left me to do, nowhere for me to go.

I wouldn’t beg, though. Fuck her.

She pul ed the trigger. A shot rang out. Blood exploded across my face and chest.

It didn’t hurt, though.

That was weird.

Then I realized the blood wasn’t mine.

Alana fel to the floor.

Twenty feet behind her, at the top of the stairs, Tony Rinaldi stood with his service revolver in both hands. “Police—freeze!” he shouted. Then, to me,

“are you hurt?”

I’ve been happy to see that son of a bitch before in my life, but never with such good reason. If I wasn’t already in love with him, I’m pretty sure I would have fal en right then and there.

“I’m fine,” I answered.

He raced down the stairs, keeping an eye on Michael and Paul.

“I think they’re out,” I said.

Tony stood awkwardly in front of me.

“What the hel happened here?”

I pointed at Michael. “Bad guy.” I pointed at Paul.

“Good guy.”

I pointed down at Alana, who laid moaning and cursing on the floor, holding her hand over her shoulder where Tony had shot her. “Total fucking bitch. Can you shoot her again?”

Tony laughed. He put an arm on my shoulder. “My little tough guy. Are you OK?”

As shaken as I was, I couldn’t help but notice that Tony had cal ed me “his” little guy.

I had held it together for a long time, but now that Tony was here, I didn’t have to be strong anymore.

My lips quivered. “Paul real y is innocent in al this.

He needs an ambulance.”

Tony put his arms around me, keeping an eye on Michael at al times. “I’ve already cal ed one,” he said. “And backup, too.”

I started to shake in his arms. I real y didn’t want to cry in front of him again, but I wasn’t sure I could hold it in anymore.

“I’m so sorry,” Tony said gently.

“Sorry?” I sniffled. “You just saved my life.”

“No, for everything else,” he said, kissing me on the top of the head. “I love you, Kevvy.” There was no holding back now. The tears came hot and fast as I sobbed in his arms. He kept kissing me, tel ing me shush, shush, it was al over, everything was going to be fine.

I final y was able to catch my breath for long enough to say what I’d been longing to say for seven years.

“I love you, too, Tony.”

He kissed me on the lips. Angels sang.

Alana muttered, “Everywhere I go, even the cops

—fucking faggots!”

Who Killed Allen Harrington?

I GOT DRESSED
before the ambulances and police arrived.

They took me and Tony aside and asked us what happened. Since Tony was a fel ow cop, they let him speak first. He explained how he had found me. He had cal ed me several times with some important news. When I hadn’t returned his cal s, he went looking for me at my apartment.

When he found the door open, and I wasn’t there, he got worried. Not knowing who any of my friends were, he took a chance and pressed redial on my home phone. It connected him with the last person I had dialed from it—Marc Wilgus.

Marc told Tony that he had reason to believe the Harringtons might have done me some harm. He gave Tony their home addresses (there wasn’t any information Marc couldn’t get within a minute), and Tony went by Michael’s place before showing up at Paul’s.

Just in time, it turned out.

Then Tony got to hear while I gave my statement to a grey-haired detective in his fifties with kind eyes and a sympathetic manner.

I told the detective how Michael and Alana had confessed their crimes to me. How they were responsible for the deaths of several men who had gone to Michael for help. I also explained how they had planned on getting rid of me and Paul. I left some of the story out, like the parts that involved Randy Bostinick and Mrs. Cherry, to protect my friends.

“You’re a pretty brave kid,” the detective who took my statement said. He looked at Tony. Although he didn’t know what the relationship between us was, from the way Tony was looking at me, he could tel it ran deep. “You should be proud of him,” he told Tony.

Tony nodded. “I am.”

The detective turned back to me. “We’re going to need you to come into the station at some point to give a formal statement, but I bet you’re pretty beat.” I nodded.

“Do you want to go to the hospital? You’ve been through a lot—you should get yourself checked out.”

“Please,” I said. “I just want to go home.” He turned back to Tony. “Can I trust you to get him home safely and look after him?”

Tony nodded. “I’l take care of him.” He looked at me. “I want to take care of him.”

The detective nodded. “Alrighty, then.” He handed Tony his card. “Have him cal me tomorrow. You’re free to go.”

The minute we got into Tony’s car, I started to ask him questions.

“Listen,” Tony said, “why don’t you just relax for a minute? Close your eyes. We’l talk when we get back to your place.”

I looked around at the suburban neighborhood.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Where
are
we?”

“White Plains,” Tony said. “Now, quiet.” Fine, I thought. I’l close my eyes for a minute.

Then I’l cal Freddy and tel him ail about what happened. I think my little adventure was even better than
Charlie’s Angels.

That was the last thing I remember thinking before fal ing into a sleep so deep that I didn’t wake even when Tony carried me into my apartment.

I woke up an hour later in my bed. In Tony’s arms.

Finally.

He had fal en asleep while holding me. I looked at his stil , peaceful face. How beautiful he was with his strong cheekbones and silky black hair. Even his eyelashes were perfect as they fluttered in his slumber. Like butterflies, I thought.

Then they opened.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, yourself,” I answered.

“You OK?”

“Never better.”

He pul ed me onto his chest. “You sure? Maybe we should go to the hospital. Just to get you checked out.”

I slipped my hand inside his shirt and felt his strong chest.

“I’m fine,” I insisted. “There’s just one thing I can’t figure out.”

“Shoot,” Tony said.

I shuddered. “Don’t use that word.”

Tony chuckled. “Sorry.”

“If it wasn’t Paul, Michael, or Alana who kil ed Al en, who did? I stil can’t believe he kil ed himself.” Tony sat up. “That’s what I was trying to cal you about! You were right, Al en didn’t kil himself. But it wasn’t a Harrington, either.”

“Who was it, then?”

“Remember those two women at the reading of the wil ? From the Association for the Acceptance of Lesbian and Gay Youth?”

I nodded.

“Turns out that one of them was embezzling contributions,” Tony explained. “Al en was studying the financials and noticed the discrepancies. He cal ed them the day of his death and explained that he was going to have someone look into it.

“What he didn’t realize was that the one he talked to was the one who was doing the embezzlement.

She was a quiet woman, but she had a quiet problem: an addiction to gambling. She panicked and went to see him. She was terrified that the exposure of her crimes would cause her partner to leave her. She’s very shy and withdrawn and would have been lost without her girlfriend.”

I remembered Lori, the woman I thought of as a

“gentle giant.”

“Anyway, she panicked and went to see him. She thought she could change his mind. When that didn’t work, she total y lost it and hit him over the head with a marble paperweight he kept on his desk. It knocked him out cold.

“She didn’t know what to do. Not only was he going to expose her as a fraud, not only would she find herself alone, but now he would have her arrested for assault. So, she threw him over the railing. Figured that would hide the fact that he’d been hit, and with his death, any chance of her charity scam being exposed would die with him. She had no idea her group was in his wil , though.”

“Holy shit,” I said under my breath. I remembered bumping into Lori at The Stuff of Life and being struck by how powerful she was. I could see her tossing Al en’s body as effortlessly as I’d toss a tin can. I shuddered.

“She knew that if Al en lived he’d tel the truth about her and that she’d probably end up in jail. Of course, she’s going away for a lot longer now.”

“How did you figure this al out?” I asked.

“I didn’t,” he said. “She was right—the fal from the balcony crushed the back of his skul so badly that we total y missed the trauma of her blow. But she confessed to her girlfriend, and the girlfriend convinced her to turn herself in. Apparently, she did it in a moment of madness and she’s been unable to live with herself since. Plus, I think there’s something a little off with her, too. Turns out there were a lot of victims in this case.”

I remembered Lori’s words to me when I met her at The Stuff of Life. Something about how you don’t know what someone was capable of until they did it.

The stricken look on her face when she said it. I wasn’t surprised she confessed—I think she was giving us clues even then.

Then I remembered something I had seen when I went to Al en’s apartment with Tony. The spreadsheets I saw on his desk with “cal T. S.” written on them. They must have been the financial statements for the Association and T. S. was …

“Tamela Steel!” I shouted.

“Excuse me?”

“Tamela Steel, Al en’s lawyer. I met her at the reading of his wil .” I reminded him about the note on Al en’s desk. “That’s who he was going to cal about the embezzlement.”

“Huh,” said Tony.

“So that uncapped pen real y
was
a clue,” I bragged. “See, I’m not bad at this detective stuff.” I couldn’t wait to tel al this to Freddy.

“I gotta admit you got a lot of it right. Al en didn’t kil himself. And if you hadn’t looked into the Harringtons, we would never have found out about Michael and Alana’s sick little game of murder by suicide. Who knows how many more people they would have convinced to kil themselves?

“Plus,” Tony added, “there was that business with the brother, Paul. Maybe now he can get his life back together.”

He tousled my hair. “You done good, Kevvy.”
Kevvy.
If he knew how giddy it made me every time he cal ed me that, would he stil say it?

“Those men,” I said, leaning up on my elbows so I could look him in the eyes. “The ones who kil ed themselves. They only wound up going to Michael because they couldn’t accept themselves.”