The Truth of Yesterday (47 page)

     I stood frozen in shock as my brain tried to make sense of what I was seeing. There was no doubt in my mind that the man in the newspaper clipping from Jake's room and this man smiling genially while he waited for me at the table were one and the same. What the implications were in that, I wasn't sure-and I wasn't sure I even wanted to know-but either way, I was quite sure that now wasn't the time to attempt to puzzle it out.

     I forced my body to move forward again and attempted to arrange some sort of pleasant expression on my face. As I approached the table, the man, Neal, stood and held out a hand in greeting.

     “Hello, you must be Killian,” he said in a cultured and slightly accented voice as we shook hands. I tried to place the accent, but it was so faint that it was unidentifiable. I hadn't even noticed it on the phone.

     “Yes, and you must be Neal. Thank you for meeting with me.”

     “Believe me, it is always my pleasure to share a meal with such an attractive young man.”

     I smiled in acknowledgment of his compliment; it was a measure of the shock I was still reeling from that I didn't blush. A waiter approached to take my drink order and refill Neal's water glass. I took advantage of the moment to study him. The newspaper photo hadn't done the man justice. He was a strikingly handsome man, darkly tanned with flashing dark eyes, strong, patrician features, and smartly styled dark hair liberally shot with silver. I would have been hard pressed to assign him an age if asked; he could have been anywhere from forty to sixty. He was well dressed in clothes of the latest fashion that eloquently bespoke wealth without being flashy. His jewelry, a gold watch on his wrist, a slim chain at his throat, a ring or two on each hand, were equally understated, but beautifully crafted. He wasn't at all what I had expected.

     “I am not what you expected,” he stated more than asked. I was startled at the way his words had echoed my thoughts. “The way you took pause when you first saw me,” he explained. “You looked surprised, even a little unsettled.” He chuckled.

     “I'm not sure what I was expecting, sir, but you're right; it wasn't you.” I said. He studied me deliberately and I struggled not to squirm under his gaze. I picked up the stemmed glass and took a sip of the ice water, more to give me something to do than because I was actually thirsty.

     “I must admit that you are not what I was expecting either,” he said after a long, awkward moment.
Awkward on my end anyway.

     I raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“My age?”

     
“Partially that, and partially your beauty.”

     This time I did blush.

     “When I think of a private investigator I suppose I think of the Philip Marlowe type, but I suppose that is my age telling on me. At any rate, you are nothing like Mr. Marlowe, and I find the reality much more pleasing than my imagination.
But on to business.
We are both busy men.”

     “Yes, I want to thank you again for taking the time to meet with me,” I said formally, glad to be getting back to something I felt a little more comfortable with.

     He gave a little shrug. “To be honest, I did not feel as if you gave me much choice. I am in a rather precarious position and thought it best to do what I could to help you. You are in the rather envious position of being the only person ever to meet me in person who would associate me with the agency.”

     “You're very careful.”

     “I do what I must. It was good to talk to Micah again. To be honest, he was always one of my very favorite boys.
Such a promising young man.
I am glad to hear he has made good on his potential. And after meeting you, however, I have to wonder if your relationship with him is more than just business…?”

     I chose to ignore the rather personal question and asked one of my own instead. “What can you tell me about Paul Flynn?”

     A tiny smile played around the corners of Neal's lips, as if something I had said amused him in some way. “What would you like for me to tell you about Paul Flynn?” His voice wasn't quite mocking, but closer than I appreciated. It made me want to make him squirm. He'd had control of the situation since I had arrived and it was time I took the control back.

     “Let's start with how long he worked for you at the agency.”

     
“A little under three years.”

     “That's a long time for an escort to work for an agency, isn't it?”

     
“Perhaps.
The arrangement seemed to meet his needs. It was not for me to question.”

     “What kind of employee was he?”

     He cocked his head slightly. “You must understand it's not as if I am the manager of a supermarket and Paul was the bag boy. He was a popular escort. He had a look not unlike yours, blonde hair and blue eyes-young, fresh…pretty. That look is always in demand. Paul was honest, he always gave me what was due and never tried to deceive me. I never had any problems or complaints from the clients. In fact, they always seemed quite satisfied with his services. In all these ways, I would say he was a very good employee.
A model employee, really.”

     “Did you ever meet him personally?”

     “No, I make it a point to never meet my escorts in person.”

     “And you never had any problems with him?”

     
“None that I can recall.”

     “Did he seem any different the last few months?”

     “Different? No, but then, I am not sure that is something I would notice. We were not close; our contact was minimal and almost always by telephone. The only way I would have known if he had changed would be if his clients noticed a remarkable enough change that they felt compelled to report it to me, which as you can imagine is not very likely.”

     “You said his clients were, ah, very satisfied by his services,” I said, trying not to blush. That wouldn't be very professional.

     “Is that a question?”

     “No, I was just wondering if he had repeat customers.”

     He raised an eyebrow. “Paul tried not to encourage repeat clients, at least not clients that came back over a long period of time. They often have a way of forming attachments, which can become rather bothersome.”

     “But did he have any?”

     “I believe he had a few, yes.”

     “Do you keep records of your clients?”

     “Do I keep records of the clients?”

0

     
“Yes, sir.
That's what I asked.”

     His eyes narrowed slightly. He still wasn't squirming, but I had a feeling this was a man who never squirmed. Slightly peeved might be as close as he got.

     “Even if I did, they would be held in the utmost confidence. It would be the only way I could maintain my reputation for discretion.”

     “So you do.”

     “I did not say…”

     “You're a little too defensive there, Neal. It's a dead give-away. But if it'll make you feel any better, we'll refer to them as the alleged filed for the sake of this conversation. Now, seeing as how I don't plan on making these alleged records public, I don't see where it would be a problem for me to have a look at them. And while we are discussing your filing system, I'd also like to see Paul records.”

     Neal's face had lost all traces of humor. I got the impression that he was taking me very seriously now.

     “I agreed to meet with you as a courtesy, Mr. Kendall,” he said icily. His voice had taken on a steely quality that sent a shiver down my spine, but I kept my expression carefully nonchalant. “I do not see how viewing these confidential files could be at all advantageous to you and I have no intention of just handing them over.”

     I leaned forward over the table with a sudden intensity. “In case you've forgotten, this is not a social visit. This is a murder investigation we're talking about. Someone strangled Paul to death in his own apartment. I intend to find out
who
that someone is. Whether or not I look like Philip Marlowe, I'm the private investigator here, and I say I need to see those files. Do I need to remind you that you're not exactly in a position to argue with me about this? If I get those files, that's as far as they go. If I have to call in the police to get them, and believe me, I will if I have to, a lot more people get involved. People who may not
be so understanding
about your particular business venture. Do you see where I'm going with this, Neal?”

     “Oh, I see it quite clearly, Mr. Kendall. I also see that I underestimated you, something I do not often make the mistake of doing.” He sat back in his chair and studied me as if seeing me for the first time. Suddenly he broke into a beaming smile. I wasn't surprised to see that his teeth were blindingly white and even. “If the situation were not quite so serious I think I would quite enjoy being bested by such a disarmingly beautiful opponent,” he said. “If I produce these alleged files, as we have agreed to call them, can you guarantee me that you will make every effort to keep them confidential?”

     “I can promise to do what I can.”

     “You are cautious, an admirable trait. I suppose that will have to do, since as you pointed out, I am not in a position to quibble over details. As I said when we spoke on the phone, I am going out of town indefinitely…”

     “I need the records before you leave.”

     
“Of course.
I was going to suggest that I send them to you overnight delivery, certified mail. Would that be suitable?”

     “That would be ideal. Just be sure that all the files I need are there. If I even suspect that you have held back on me I'll call in the authorities.”

     “Somehow, I do not doubt that, young friend. Is our business concluded?”

     “I have one more question.”

     “Ask it.”

     “Do you have any ideas about who might have killed Paul?”

     “None,” he answered without hesitation. “I've thought much about this and I have not thought of anything or anyone. Paul was a good person, I cannot imagine who would want to hurt him, let alone kill him.”

     “Then I guess we're finished. Please, don't forget to include Paul's file with the clients'.”

     “Oh, I wouldn't dare.” The slight mocking tone was back as he stood. “You know, Killian, if this private investigator line of work doesn't work out for you, I have a feeling you'd make a fine escort.”

     “Thanks, but no thanks. I'll be looking for those files.”

     “You can expect them tomorrow. It was a pleasure.” He made a slight bow and turned crisply on his heel before walking away, never once looking back. I sat at the table for a second, collecting my thoughts. I had the feeling that I had just taunted a very powerful and possibly dangerous man. I should probably be glad he had found me amusing, but somehow I was still pissed. And then there was the whole fact that Jake had his picture in his room…

     I was still sitting at the table when
Chris
slid into the seat recently vacated by Neal. “So…how'd it go?” she asked.

     “It went…”

     “Is this fill in the blank? I couldn't really see you so guys up here, so I had to content myself with loitering around at the bottom of the stairs. They almost escorted me out a few times, but I told them I was waiting for my aunt, Senator Sampson. They left me alone after that.”

     “Is Senator Sampson really your aunt?” I asked momentarily distracted.

     “No, but they didn't know that. So why are you looking so concerned? Did the interview go badly?”