The Truth of Yesterday (53 page)

          I called the guy on top. He was home but after a brief conversation, it became obvious that he wouldn't have much to add. His visits with Paul had been out-calls, which meant that Paul went to him. He was amazingly unobservant and only remembered Paul's name because he had it written down so he could remember who to ask for when he called.

          The next guy I called still wasn't home, or at least there was still no answer. The guy after that said that he didn't know anything about Paul, that Paul never talked about personal things and always kept everything focused on giving as much pleasure as possible. “We never really talked all that much, if you know what I mean,” he'd said. I was beginning to think that this was going to be a waste of time. It didn't look like Paul talked to anyone very much. I decided to keep calling though. You never knew when you just might strike gold.

          I thought I'd turned up a nugget with my next call, but it turned out to be pyrite, better known as fool's gold. The guy started out talking as if he knew Paul well, but I quickly realized he was only interested in keeping me on the line so he could talk dirty to me. I ended up hanging up on the pervert.

          I called the last two guys and struck out with both of them as well. Paul obviously didn't let anyone inside the emotional walls that he'd built up around himself. Maybe it was self-preservation. In this business, you'd have to keep some sort of distance from the clients. You couldn't very well get emotionally involved with all of them, after all. And that's all it was, a business.

          I almost didn't call the last number back, but I decided I might as well be thorough. I dialed the number and listened to it ring. I was just about to hang up when a young sounding male voice answered.

          “Hello?” they said.

          “Oh, hi,” I said automatically, caught off guard; I hadn't been expecting an answer. “Is this, um…
”
I scanned the page in front of me for his name. “…Howard Rich?”

          “Are you trying to sell me something?” he asked politely.

          “No, I just have a few questions to ask you. I won't take much of your time,” I told him.

          “So this is like a survey?”

          “No, I…”

          “Do you want money from me?”

         “No!”

          “Well, in that case, it's
Howie
, please. I hate the name Howard.”

          
“Um, ok,
Howie
.
My name is Killian Kendall, I'm a private investigator.”

          
“Really?
How interesting. And you want to talk to me?”

          “Yes,” I said, wondering if he would ever allow me to get more than one sentence out at a time.

          
“About what?”

          An opening! I didn't waste any time taking it. “Paul Flynn. He was an escort that I believe you were familiar with. He was…”

          “Murdered,” he finished for me sadly.

          “You know?”

          “I saw it on the news. Actually, can I take this in my office? I'll be able to talk to you more freely there.”

          “Yes, of course. I'll wait.”

          I heard him call someone named Eileen to the phone and asked her to hang up after he took it in his office.

          While I waited, I glanced down at the page of notes on
Howie
and raised an eyebrow in surprise. It appeared that
Howie
had been seeing Paul for much longer than most of the others had.

          "Ok, I'm back," he said. "You can hang up now." He waited until Eileen had done as he'd requested before he continued. "Yes, I knew Paul. I was shocked to hear about his death. To be honest, I've been having a hard time dealing with it. He was a good person."

          "You'd been seeing Paul for quite a while," I fished.
"In fact, quite a bit longer than any of
hs
other clients."
Howie
refused to rise to the bait.
When the silence had stretched out a little longer than was comfortable, I asked, "How well did you know Paul?"

          “How well do you ever know anyone?” he countered.

          I wasn't about to get drawn into an existential conversation. “It would be very helpful if you could answer my questions.”

          “Why? What are you looking for? Who are you working for? Why are you concerned with Paul's death?”

          “I'm afraid I can't tell you who I'm working for, that's confidential, but I can tell you that I've been hired to look into Paul's death by someone who cared about him. They hired me because the police don't seem to be putting much effort into finding Paul's killer.”

          “So you're trying to find Paul's killer?”

          “Yes.”

          
“Sounds dangerous.”

         
“Possibly.”

          “What's in it for you?”

          “What?”

          “What do you get out of it?”

          “It's my job.”

          “Ok, if that's what blows your skirt up, but what does any of that have to do with how well I knew Paul?”

          I felt like pounding my head against the desk.
First Danielle, then the pervert, and now this.
Had I been a bad boy recently? Was I being punished for something? I took a deep breath and tried again.

          “I'm trying to get a grasp of what was going on in Paul's life the last few months. His friends have told me that he became distant and secretive, but no one knows why. What little we've managed to find out has only muddied the waters. I'm hoping to find someone that might be able to clear things up for us. If you knew him well, I was hoping you might be able to help. If you didn't know him well, just let me know now and save us both some time.”

          He was quiet for so long that I began to wonder if he had hung up.

          
“
Howie
?”
I asked.

          “Yeah, I'm here,” he answered. “I guess you could say I knew Paul pretty well. We'd become friends. He did see me longer than most of his other clients because he was doing me a favor. Paul's the only man I've ever had sex with. You see, I'm married to a wonderful woman. I was in denial for much of my life and I was married with children before I finally realized that I was gay. I've never told my wife, she's an incredible person and she's the best friend I could ever ask for. I could never leave her and my children, she deserves better than that. But I still had a need to be with men, so I hired Paul. It took care of my needs very well. Paul knew all of this so he agreed to allow me to keep seeing him.”

          I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. After a moment,
Howie
went on. “Paul was perhaps the sweetest, most gentle man I have ever met. He gave of himself completely and I don't just mean that sexually. I like to think we became friends, I know I cared for him very deeply.”

          “Did you…did you ever talk about Paul's personal life?”

          
“To some degree, yes.”

          “Did you notice any change in his over the last few months before his death?”

          “Yes.”

          “Do you know what was causing those changes?”

          “Yes.”

          My heart caught in my throat. Could this be the answers to all my questions?

          “Let me clarify that,”
Howie
said quickly. “I knew some of what was going on, but not by any means everything. I don't know details, Paul was too much the professional to name names or give too many details, but I know vaguely what was troubling him.”

          “Can you tell me what you know?”

          “Paul and I did a lot more than just have sex. I'd take him to dinner at nice restaurants that we knew were discreet, we'd take walks along the
river,
we'd talk for hours after sex. It was while we were talking that I learned that he suspected someone he knew of being involved in something illegal, something serious. He didn't specify what and I didn't ask. Those were the unspoken rules of our conversations like this. He asked me what I thought he should do. I told him that it would depend on what this person was to him. If he was just a casual acquaintance then maybe he should just go straight to the authorities. If it was someone he respected or cared about, I suggested that maybe he should go to that person and speak to them directly.”

          “Did he indicate what he was planning to do?”

          “No, like I said that wasn't how it worked. But you know, ever since I heard that he was murdered, I've worried that it might have been my advice that got him killed.”

          That was a very real possibility, but I wasn't about to tell him that. He already sounded upset as it was. “You have no way of knowing that,” I told him truthfully enough. “You don't know if Paul took your advice or not, and even if he did, if it had anything to do with his murder. That's what I'm trying to figure out. He didn't give you any indication as to who this person was?”

          
“No, none.”

          “And that was the last time you saw him?”

          “Yes.”

          “Which was about a month ago?”

          “About a week before he was killed.”

          My thoughts went to the letters the police had found in the safe. It sounded like Paul had taken
Howie's
advice and confronted the person he suspected of illegal activity. Had it ended with his death? It seemed the more I found out, the more questions I had.

          “One more thing,” I said, thinking about the other contents of the safe. “Do you have any idea who Paul might have been planning on going away with?
Maybe on a vacation?”

          He was quiet for a second, then said, “No, but I think Paul might have met someone.”

          “What do you mean by met someone?”

          “Just what I said, I think he'd met someone that he really liked. The last couple times I saw him, he was different somehow, happier and more relaxed. This was before he asked for my advice. I asked him what was going on to put that smile on his face and he just smiled all the more and shook his head. I asked him if he'd met someone special and his smile just grew bigger, if possible. I said he must be someone very special indeed to bring about a smile like that. Then I told him that whoever he was, he was a very lucky guy. Paul changed the subject after that, he never really liked talking about personal things, at least not when it was his personal life being discussed. He was perfectly content to act as my confessional, counselor, and adviser.”

          I fought a sigh. Paul's reticence certainly didn't make investigating him any easier. It would have been so much easier if had just been a little gabbier.

          “Well, thank you,
Howie
. You've been a help,” I said, adding
I think
, silently.

          “I'm glad I could help. I hope you catch the bastard that did this. Paul was a…he was a good person.”

          I hung up and sat back in my chair, propping my feet up on the desk. I had so many questions about these cases swimming around in my head. I was having trouble making sense of it all. I was rubbing my chin when I realized I was unconsciously imitating Novak. With a snap of chair springs, I yanked my feet off the desk and sat up straight. I chuckled at myself as I grabbed my keys and headed out the door. I guess there are worse things than discovering you're becoming like your teacher.