A Portrait of Emily (22 page)

“My name doesn’t matter.” His voice was thickly accented. “You wish to buy from us?”

“Yes.”

“Boy or girl?”

Jeff struggled to keep his voice calm as he answered. “A girl.”

“You are a young man—and fine looking.” The contact looked Jeff over with suspicion, and at the same time licked his lips suggestively. “Why would you need our services?”

Jeff fought down his revulsion, and his urge to punch the man’s face. “I prefer paying for my pleasure. And only with very young girls.”

“Very well, we can help you there.” The man’s thick lips parted in a mirthless smile. “We will make the arrangements for you, Mr. Stevens. Then we will contact you with the time and the place. The money will be paid in advance, of course.”

“I understand. Will it be soon?”

“Tomorrow night. Is that convenient?”

“Yes.”

The man stood then left the bar. Jeff sat for a few minutes before walking out into the welcoming sunlight. As he got into his car, his cell phone rang. It was McKenna.

“Success?” he asked dryly.

“Where are you?”

“Across the parking lot in the burgundy Buick.”

Jeff squinted through his side window and made out the car with the two detectives sitting in it. “I see you. Yeah, I made contact. They’re going to deliver tomorrow night. They’ll call with the time and place.”

“Anything else in there?”

“The bartender’s in on it and some dude kept giving me the evil eye the whole time I was in there. Not your friendly neighborhood bar.”

McKenna chuckled. “Okay, keep us informed.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Jeff put his car in gear and eased out on to Harbor Boulevard heading for the freeway, and home. He felt dirty. The seediness of the bar, the revulsion he’d felt during his exchange with the contact now crawled on his skin.

God, I hate these people
. Their trafficking in the bodies of young children was to him, the worst possible sin. He had seen the end result of the damage done to the victims so many times. Kids on drugs, selling their bodies for another hit to help them escape into oblivion. Kids lying in doorways and alleys unable to find their way back, unloved, unwanted, and ignored by a seemingly ignorant society. Once they had fulfilled their purpose, they were cast out, like so much refuse.

His determination to put a stop to this particular vice ring had now even superseded his need to find Charles Hastings’ murderer. As far as he was concerned, Hastings had earned his fate. Whoever had killed him and for whatever reason would eventually become clear, but for now, hopefully with McKenna’s help, he would put an end to this obscene operation.

He was relieved not to see Peter’s car in the garage as he pulled in. He would have time to shed these clothes and take a shower, thus avoiding any explanations. He still didn’t want to let Peter in on what he was doing. When it was over, he’d tell him. He began pulling off his clothes as he climbed the stairs to the bedroom. Throwing his shirt and underwear into the laundry basket, he stuffed his suit into a dry cleaning bag. All of it needed the residue of this afternoon removed.

He stepped under the scalding water and rubbed vigorously at his skin, trying to wash away the pervading feeling of sliminess. He was overreacting, he thought, as he stood beneath the powerful spray, but he could not wash away the images of children being used for nefarious purposes. Pedophilia, in any shape or form, was abhorrent to him, and he deemed himself too close to this to remain unemotional. The shower helped clear his head, however, and his heart lifted as heard Peter’s voice call him from downstairs.

“Just getting out of the shower,” he answered. “Come on up.” He heard Peter bound up the stairs then he entered the bathroom, all smiles.

“Hey there, you.” Jeff opened his arms to him.

“Oh, now you’re making me regret my natural hospitality.” Peter sighed and pressed himself against Jeff’s still damp body.

“What do you mean?” Jeff asked, kissing Peter’s neck.

“Anthony’s on his way over. He’ll be here in a sec. He was so down after the funeral I asked him if he’d like to have dinner with us here, and to my surprise he said yes.”

“That’s okay…you can take care of this later.” They both looked ruefully at Jeff’s burgeoning erection just as the doorbell rang.

“Damn,” Peter sighed.

Jeff chuckled. “Go answer that while I make myself presentable.”

Peter ran downstairs and flung the door open. “Come on in, Anthony. Jeff will be down in a moment.”

“Thanks for inviting me over.” Anthony stepped down into the living room. “You guys have such a neat place—feels like a
home
should.”

“Thanks, we love it here. Can I make you a drink?”

“Just a beer, if you have one.”

“Sure thing.” Peter ambled into the kitchen, Anthony following.

“So you and Jeff have been together how long?” he asked as Peter opened the fridge and brought out a can of beer.

“Well, we got off to a rocky start, actually. But he eventually moved in Christmas Eve last year.”

“What do you mean;
rocky start
?”

Peter related the story of how he and Jeff had first met when Jeff had been approached to investigate Phillip’s death. “He was pressuring me into reading about the attack on Phillip and me, something I hadn’t been able to do. Of course, he meant it for all the best reasons, but at the time I was overly sensitive about the whole deal. We got into a shouting match—well, I did the shouting and told him to leave.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Peter’s smile was rueful. “Sounds stupid now. Anyway, Jeff being the kind of guy he is, didn’t give up on me. He came back to the house. My mother was there, and she kind of smoothed things over—gave me time to calm down. Jeff apologized for being so forceful. We talked some more. I read the reports of the attack, made a fool of myself crying like a baby. Jeff was really compassionate and understanding. I didn’t know it then, but when I think back on it, that was when I started to fall in love with him.”

Anthony listened enthralled. “And you found the guy who killed Phillip?”

“Yes, guys actually—two of them. Cops, if you can believe it.”

“Jeez. What happened to them?”

“They’re both dead. But that’s another installment. Ah, here’s the light of my life now.”

Jeff entered the kitchen, handsome in khaki shorts and a white polo shirt that complemented his tan. “Hi, Anthony.” He greeted their guest with a friendly hug. “Bit of a grueling day for you, I expect.”

“It’s better now, thanks to Peter. He’s been telling me all about how you guys met.”

“Oh, that tired old story.”

“Excuse me?” Peter exclaimed with mock indignation. “I rather think of it as the love affair of the century.”

“Well, you might just have something there.” They exchanged smiles and Anthony coughed politely.

“Uh, would you guys like to be alone?”

“No. Please excuse our bad manners. We’re very happy to have you here. Peter just has to learn how to behave himself in front of guests.”

“Well, I’m very happy to be here,” Anthony said, enjoying the playful banter of his two new friends. “I really couldn’t have faced another evening with my mother pretending she’s heart-broken over Dad’s death.”

Jeff perched himself on a barstool next to Anthony while Peter prepared his usual Scotch and water on the rocks. He listened as Anthony continued.

“Then, on top of it all, that creep, Dr. Tom Watt, the guy who raped me all those years ago, showed up. I could have beaten the shit out of him and probably would have if Jerry hadn’t stopped me.”

God, what a day
, Jeff thought, knowing he couldn’t share his story at this moment. “So…” He accepted his drink from Peter. “The doctor and your father must still have been friends.”

“I guess so.” Anthony downed half his beer in one gulp. “But he should have stayed the hell away.”

“Well, it’s over now,” Peter said. “You’ll probably never see him again.”

“That’ll be fine with me. It just creeps me out to think that slime ball is out there, supposedly treating sick people—and he’s the sickest of them all.”

“Come on.” Jeff slipped of his barstool. “Let’s go sit on the terrace and enjoy the view. We all need a change of scene, I think—and subject.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” Anthony slid off the stool and followed them outside.

The three were silent for a few minutes as they each contemplated the beauty before them. Peter, for one, never tired of this view and he’d spent countless nights watching as the sun prepared for its final descent below the horizon. Now, it hung heavily in the sky, casting an orange glow across the ocean.

Jeff sighed, his mind conflicted between the serenity he now saw spread before him and the turmoil this afternoon’s investigation had stirred within him. How could so much beauty exist side by side with so much ugliness?

Anthony stood at the verandah’s edge, his eyes searching far beyond the horizon, as if perhaps he might see where his destiny would lead him. He had to get a life, he knew. Once this mess was all cleared up, his mother settled, Emily and Jerry married, he would move on. To where, right now, he did not know but somewhere he could find the kind of life he craved. It was too soon to hope that the chance encounter he’d had with Justin a few days ago could amount to anything more than just that.

Peter glanced at his two companions and cleared his throat. “Well, aren’t we the gloomy trio? I didn’t invite you down here to get even more depressed, Anthony.”

“Oh, I’m okay, really.” Anthony smiled at him, his face turning to gold under the reflection of the sun’s rays.

He looks
like a dark angel
right now
, Peter thought with a slight shiver.
An
avenging angel
.
Lord
,
am I being fanciful or what
?
Pull yourself together
…

“Right,” Jeff said, “What’s for dinner, Chef Brandon? I’ll give you a hand.”

“No need. Sit and enjoy the sunset. I won’t be long in there. It’s just poached salmon and salad. You two stay and talk.”

Anthony sat down opposite Jeff. “Have the police found out any more about Joey’s murder?”

“Not yet. I told them they should talk to his ex boyfriend Bob Thomson. Did you know him?”

“Uh uh, I don’t think so.”

“He was also Joey’s landlord. Owns the building he had his studio in. Bit of a rough type. Short, stocky, very red hair. Ring a bell?”

Anthony hesitated then nodded. “Sounds like a guy that tried to pick me up in Rebels one night. He did say he was a friend of Joey’s, now when I think of it, and he knew my name—or at least, he thought my name was Adam. I don’t remember what he said his name was. Anyway, I didn’t give him the time of day.”

“Why the change of name?” Jeff asked.

Anthony looked embarrassed as he replied, “Oh, it was just a silly game I started playing when I went to the bars in LA. I wanted to be anonymous, not have guys calling me, that kind of thing. So I didn’t carry ID and told them my name was Adam. I was playing a part, really. I thought it gave me an edge, a sort of dominance. An unfortunate trait I’ve inherited from my father. Stupid, now I think of it. I was going to tell Joey my real name eventually, and I probably would have the night I went over there and found him … you know…” He faltered for a moment. “Who would really want to kill Joey, do you think?”

“It probably wasn’t premeditated. He could have started an argument. Joey had a shitty temper. He could say things that would make a person mad—ugly things, sometimes. I know from experience he could get very nasty.”

“I never saw that side of him.”

“He was crazy about you. He told me as much.” Both men fell silent for a moment then Jeff asked, “Did you ever call that Justin guy?”

“Yes, we’ve spoken a few times. I had to keep apologizing for the delay in our getting together, so I let him in on some of what has been happening. He’s been really understanding, and as a matter of fact, we have a date tomorrow night.”

“Great. He lives in LA?”

“Yeah. He works for some publicity company—celebrity stuff, I think. He’s a bit older than me, twenty seven or eight.”

Jeff laughed wryly. “An old dude.”

“Not that much older…”

“Well, good luck. He sounds like a nice guy.”

“Thanks. So, did the police ever talk to Joey’s landlord?”

“No, he’d gone out of town for a few days according to his secretary. I’ll be talking to my buddy, Joe French, tomorrow about it. See if he’s made any headway finding him.”

“Okay you two,” Peter sang out from the dining room. “Dinner’s ready.”

Jeff smiled at Anthony. “Better not keep the chef waiting.”

“Lead me to it—I’m famished.”

§ § § §

Emily and Jerry sat, side by side, on the couch in her mother’s living room. They looked anxiously at each other as they waited for Patricia to come back downstairs. They had reluctantly agreed to stay with her at Anthony’s request; even though Patricia had made it abundantly clear she would rather be on her own.

“If my son feels he has to be with someone other than his mother tonight, I see no reason for you two being under my feet,” she had told them rudely when Emily had explained that Anthony was going out to visit friends.

Emily had gritted her teeth and said nothing. She didn’t want to be here either, looking after the woman who had tried to implicate her in her father’s death. She couldn’t blame Anthony for wanting to get away from this grim atmosphere for one night, but she would have much rather gone off with Gloria and Johnny after the funeral.

Patricia exaggerated her surprise as she entered the living room. “Are you two still here? I told you I don’t need any one here with me. I would prefer to be on my own,
if
you don’t mind.”

Jerry took Emily’s hand. “Come on,” he muttered. “Let’s go, Emily.”

“Mother,” Emily protested. “Anthony doesn’t want you to be on your own, that’s why we’re here.”

“
But I don’t want you here
.” Her mother’s spite loaded voice rang through the room. “Why would I? You, who did your best to destroy my happiness with your wanton ways. You and your sister—both sluts.”