Authors: Anthony Bidulka
focused on beating my mother at her own game.
And thankfully the evening passed with pleasant-
ness. Pleasantness, a pink elephant, a spotted
giraffe and a flying zebra.
When I was ushered by the receptionist into
Daniel’s office on Monday morning, I noticed
something different in my client. He was wearing
a light grey-green suit, a solid green shirt and a
matching patterned tie. He rose, held out his hand
and smiled as he always did. It was nothing obvi-
ous. But it was there. Was it his manner—relaxed
and open? The glow in his eyes? The way he car-
ried himself with vigour and confidence? Had his
experience on Saturday night as a drag queen vis-
iting his first gay bar changed him?
“Russell, thank you for coming. I appreciate
you taking the time.”
“Well, I am working for you, so I guess my
time is your time. Is something wrong? Were you
followed again?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I’m sorry. I should
have given you more information over the phone.
You see, I’ve made an important decision that I
think you should know about,” he announced.
Oh, oh. Was he about to come out of the closet?
As a drag queen named Clarissa? What had I done?
Anthony Bidulka — 237
“As you know, it’s time for my payment to
Loverboy and…I’ve decided not to make it. I’m
not going to mail the cheque.” As he said this his
chin rose a tad and his voice was triumphant.
I wasn’t immediately sure how I felt about his
decision. “What convinced you to do this?”
“Nothing…and everything. I think it’s the
right thing to do. The only thing. I want this to be
over, Russell, and I think this will help. I know
you’d never suggest it because of the possible
danger to me, but it is a good idea, isn’t it? I mean,
this might help flush him out, won’t it? He’ll have
to contact me again to find out what’s happened
to his money and when he does that, hopefully
he’ll screw up or leave some clues for you to fol-
low.”
“You’re right, Daniel, there are dangers to you.
You risk making Loverboy angry and doing what
he’s threatened to do all along—make your
homosexual activities public. Or worse, he could
become more threatening or even violent. He
might change the terms of your agreement and
ask for even more money. That’s the problem with
a criminal you know nothing about, there’s no
way of knowing just what they’re capable of.
Maybe we should wait before making such a bold
move, give my investigation a little more time.
I’ve only been on the case less than a week.
Something will turn up.”
“No,” he said, his shoulders squared off like a
warrior’s. “Besides, it’s too late. The payment was
due today, the fifteenth. When Loverboy checks
his mailbox, it’ll be empty. I don’t think he’ll do
238 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
anything rash…at least not right away. He won’t
want to jeopardize his getting the fifty thousand
eventually.”
I took a deep breath. I was nervous for him.
And worried. “Daniel, are you sure? This is a big
step. Do you really understand the possible conse-
quences?”
“I know you’re going to find him, Russell,
before anything untoward happens to me. I just
know it.”
His confidence in my abilities was generous.
But was it misplaced? I would find the blackmail-
er. But would I find him before he damaged
Daniel Guest’s life forever?
“Let’s go over the candidates again,” I instruct-
ed as we took seats around Daniel’s desk.
“You’re convinced SunLover is out of the pic-
ture for sure?” he questioned.
I thought about Anthony and my stomach
lurched involuntarily. I nodded. “Yes. SunLover is
not Loverboy.”
Daniel nodded, seeming to accept my decision
on this point. “So that leaves James Kraft. And you
know what I think about him.”
I did.
“It has to be him, Russell. It just fits. Besides,
with SunLover eliminated, he’s the only one left.”
“You’re forgetting that there might be other
possible candidates.”
He sighed impatiently. “I know. I know. You
think people I work with could be involved. But
you met the lot of them at the Christmas party. See
any potential Loverboys in that crowd? I doubt it.”
Anthony Bidulka — 239
“I’m not so sure yet.”
“Are you saying you think James Kraft cannot
be our Loverboy?” He was twirling a ballpoint
pen between his fingers like a mini baton; his
voice was challenging and he was frowning.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“We agreed to hold off on going to New York
to find James Kraft until we thought we’d taken
care of business at home and concluded it was the
right move. Well, if I have a vote, and I think I do,
I think it is the right move. Now.”
I nodded. It was time to acquiesce. After all, he
was the client and I had so far failed to come up
with a more plausible local lead. Besides, he was
right. James Kraft was our most likely suspect.
And I felt better about making the trip, now that
I’d done some preliminary work on the case and
gotten a better feel for it and my client.
“I don’t mean to be a hard-headed jerk about
this, Russell, but he’s the only candidate we’ve got
right now and…well, I just want this over and
done with as soon as possible. Could you go to
New York this week?”
I thought about my mother. I was unsure about
leaving her, but I nodded nonetheless. “I’ll
arrange it.”
“Great. Let me know when and where you’re
staying. We should keep in touch. If James Kraft
is
Loverboy I want to know about it right away.”
Daniel’s phone rang and he answered it. He lis-
tened to whoever was on the other end for five
seconds then put them on hold. “Listen, I have to
take this, it’s a conference call. Is there anything
240 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
else we need to discuss?”
He was the one who’d called this meeting, so, I
guessed, he could end it. I shook my head and
took my leave.
I was about to head towards the staircase that
would take me down into the reception area, but
stopped myself. The walls of the atrium were a
deep purple and the matching carpet a thick
berber. The only sounds I could make out behind
the closed doors lining the corridor were the click-
ing of computer keys and the odd muffled voice
on a phone. Chartered accountants at work.
Instead of turning left to the staircase I turned
right and found what I was looking for in fairly
short order—a door with a nameplate that read:
Herb Dufour. I tapped lightly on the door and
opened it about a foot, sticking my head in far
enough to catch sight of the man behind a desk
even bigger than the one in Daniel Guest’s office.
I wondered if the size of your desk was some sort
of status thing with accountants or a sign of virili-
ty like a monster truck?
“Mr. Quant,” Herb Dufour greeted me. He hur-
riedly came out from behind the impressive piece
of furniture and approached me with an out-
stretched hand. We shook. “I didn’t know you
were in the building.”
How would he, I couldn’t help wonder. When
I’d cased the building—as was my habit (just in
case I’d need to break in one day)—I hadn’t come
across any hidden cameras or microphones.
Perhaps it was simply a figure of speech. Perhaps
I was being an anal detective. “I was here meeting
Anthony Bidulka — 241
with Daniel and thought I’d drop by to say hello.”
I could see by the look on his face that he wasn’t
really buying my reasoning. But, so what.
“Would you like a coffee or something else to
drink?” He motioned me to sit in a chair that was
dwarfed by his massive wooden edifice. As I
took my place he returned to his own seat of
power. I took notice of an impressive array of
plaques and degrees and commemorative framed
photographs on the walls, many relating to his
years as a city councillor.
“No thank you. I won’t stay long. I’m sorry for
stopping by unannounced. I know how busy you
must be.”
He grinned a pleasing grin that made his big-
boned face appear softer. “Actually, come this
time of year I like to take it a little easier and cruise
gently into the Christmas season. I have a
Christmas party, concert, come and go, wine and
cheese or dinner every night from now until the
twenty-fifth. It’s all I can do to make it into the
office in the morning.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” I said. Herb Dufour
was a successful man who struck me as one of
those guys with boundless energy and stamina.
He could probably work until 1 a.m., go out with
the guys for drinks afterwards, then go home,
watch some TV before bed, wake up at dawn for
exercise and review of the morning news pro-
grams before heading back to the office to do the
same thing all over again.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Quant?”
“I forgot to ask you something the other night
242 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
at the Christmas party. I was just wondering if you
happened to be at the SBA awards ceremony the
night Daniel received the blackmail note.”
He looked at me steadily but did not answer.
“So…were you?”
“Yes,” he said slowly, drawing out the word.
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, I’m interested in talking to anyone who
might have been there that night. They might
have seen something or noticed someone who
shouldn’t have been there or was acting strange-
ly.”
He appeared to be thinking this over. Finally
he rubbed his wide chin with his wide hand and
answered. “No, I can’t say that I did.”
“How about Marilee?”
He frowned. “Marilee?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I just assumed since she
was with you at the Christmas party that she
might also have been…?”
He regarded me carefully before saying, “No.
Marilee was not there that night. I had another
escort that evening.”
“Oh,” I said. “Who was that?”
He looked at me as if I’d asked him what he
did on a particular Thursday afternoon seven
years ago. “I don’t recall.”
“I see.”
“Have you been having any luck on the case,
Mr. Quant?” he asked in an obvious attempt to get
off the subject of his varied unmemorable escorts.
“Yes.” I always say yes to a question like that,
even if the answer is something different.
Anthony Bidulka — 243
“Well, I hope you remember my offer to help
you in any way possible.”
“I do and I’m sure Daniel is grateful to have the
level of support you’ve shown for him. Obviously
you have no issue with his being a homosexual?”
It was a loaded question and a little out of right
field. My favourite kind.
He volleyed back with ease. “Daniel, as always,
has my full support. He is my friend as well as
business partner. I may not understand every-
thing he’s done to…find himself embroiled in this
situation…but I would do
anything
to help him
out of it.” His words and tone of voice were unwa-
vering—a politician’s expertise.
“I hope that won’t be necessary, but I guess
we’ll see what happens now he’s decided not to
pay the blackmail.”
Dufour’s face suddenly changed. If it wasn’t
for his long sleeve shirt, I’m sure I would have
observed the hairs on his arms bristle. This was
obviously unexpected news. “He what?” he
boomed.
“He’s decided not to pay the blackmail.”
“Don’t you consider that completely foolhardy
and…and dangerous, Mr. Quant? I hope you’re
talking him out of it. If he doesn’t pay how does
he ever expect this…this horrific experience to
end? My God, man, he’s not thinking this
through.”
Was it anger or was it concern for his friend or
was it something else that was making the man’s
cheeks and forehead grow redder by the minute.
He no longer looked like any of the images por-
244 — F l i g h t o f A q u av i t
trayed in the commemorative snapshots on the
walls around us.
“It’s too late. Daniel has already made up his
mind and withheld payment. The money was due