Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle (46 page)

“Fair enough. Why?”

“Among other reasons, I've got a book coming out.”

Dan was perplexed. “Fiction?”

“No. Memoirs. It's a tell-all about my sordid little life.”

“Are you expecting some trouble from disgruntled former band members?”

Jags laughed. “Yeah, you could say that. Former whatevers, in fact. Girlfriends, wives, songwriting partners. Just … whatever. I need someone to watch my back right now.”

Dan made a face.

“C'mon,” Jags told him. “I'm not expecting trouble,
but I'm sure you could take out a few guys at once,
if you wanted to. You're built like a prize-fighter. Me? I'm turning into the Pillsbury Doughboy.”

“Mr. Rohmer …”

“Jags.”

“Jags, I'm sure it would be an honour to work for you, but …”

“But what?”

“But it's not my thing.”

“That's no reason. Look, I'll pay you triple whatever you charge.”

They were on the ramp running directly over Corktown. Dan glanced off to the right. One of those adjoining roofs was his. He thought of his diminishing reserves and the mounting costs for the new home. From missing persons investigator to bodyguard. Maybe it was time to expand his skill set.

Jags turned off at the bottom of the ramp, heading up to Queen Street and then east again. They were soon back on Dan's street. The car turned right and slid into place in front of Dan's house.

Jags turned to regard him. He looked at his dash. “You said forty-five minutes. We've got ten minutes left. So what do you think?”

“Jags, I don't think so …”

Dan reached for the door handle. Jags snapped the lock down.

“Do I have to kidnap you?”

“That won't help.” Something occurred to Dan. “You were at the police station today.”

“Right. And you were at the elevator when I got off on the third floor. Green striped V-neck T-shirt and jeans.
With the older man in the checked shirt and beige pants.”

“Good recall,” Dan said. “Is that where you got my name?”

Jags nodded. “I met with some police officers there. A dumpy one and a short one who thinks he's Cock of the Walk.”

An image of Detective Danes and Constable Pfeiffer came to Dan's mind. “Yeah, I think I know the ones you mean.”

“They recommended you to me. The older guy told them you were cool.”

Dan wondered what Ed had said to Detective Danes and Constable Pfeiffer to make them recommend him.

“Did they tell you my last client was murdered?”

“Is that a joke?”

“I never joke.”

“I like you even better then. Did your last client hire you to be his bodyguard?”

“No. I never met him. His sister hired me to find him. He disappeared a few days before I found him. I got there too late.”

“That's different. Not your fault.”

Dan sized him up. “Did they tell you I was gay?”

“I don't mind queers.”

Dan held up a warning finger. “I can use that word. You can't.”

Jags' mouth twitched into a smile. “Ooh, discrimination.”

“You betcha. That's our word now.”

“Better tell the boys at Metro HQ. I don't think they got the memo.”

Dan smiled. “I hear you.”

He looked off across the street at a couple passing by with a baby in a stroller. How had his life become so different from everyone else's?

Jags placed a hand on Dan's shoulder. “Look, Dan —
I checked you out. You come highly recommended from a number of sources, not just the cops. Plus I like you — you talk straight. Well, for a gay guy.” He smiled again. “I'd trust you before I'd trust one of those muscle-bound lunks you meet at the gym and whatnot.”

“I'm not sure that's a compliment.”

“Sure it is.” Jags seemed to be running out of arguments. “Look, do you have anything pressing at the moment? Apart from your murdered client, I mean.”

Dan inclined his head. “Actually, no.”

“Then why not try it for a week? It won't be an everyday thing. Every other day, at best. Mostly when I do public appearances.”

He released the lock and waited.

Dan's hand moved to the handle. He turned to Jags. “Okay. I'll try it.”

“Good. Any questions?”

“Just one. Where'd you get your name?”

Jags smiled. “I'm very fond of cars, as you can see. By the time my first record came out, I'd already smashed up three Jaguars.”

“Ouch. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. That's a very cool car.”

“Tell me about it.”

Dan got out of the car. It turned sleekly and drove off with a
whoosh!
leaving him standing on the sidewalk outside his home.

Fame

Trevor and Ked were in the living room when Dan entered. They reminded him of a pair of devious teenagers who minutes before had been smoking and playing cards, but were now trying to simulate innocence while noxious fumes hung in the air.

“Well?” Trevor ventured.

“I've got Jags Rohmer as a client,” he told them.

“Dad, that's so cool!” Ked exclaimed.

“But you're not to tell anyone,” Dan quickly added.

“What? No fair!”

“You heard me. This is a confidential arrangement. You can talk about it when the job is done.”

Ked glowered. “Then why did you have to tell me now?”

“Because I need to keep you in the loop. It's going to change a few things around here. And by the way, your dog needs walking. He told me so at the door when I came in.”

Ked rolled his eyes then stomped out of the room.

“Congratulations, I guess?” Trevor said.

Dan shrugged. “I took the job because I need the money, not because he's famous.”

“Good money?”

“Very good.” He stopped to consider. “And I think I might like the guy.”

“That's always a plus. So what will you be doing for him? Did he lose someone?”

Dan looked at him. “Actually, no. He didn't lose anyone. He needs a bodyguard so he doesn't lose himself.”

Trevor shook his head. “Since when are you a bodyguard?”

“Since today. Are you shocked?”

Trevor hesitated. “A little, I guess. What brought this on? For him, I mean.”

“His autobiography is coming out and he wants back-up for his public appearances. And I need the cash flow right now.”

Consternation showed on Trevor's face. “Wish I could be more help in that department.”

Dan held up his hand. “We agreed that's not your part here. Not for now, anyway. I don't want you to start worrying about it. Not about the house or about money or about anything.”

“Well, good. I'll just put all that worry on hold. Let me know when you think it's time to start, because I'm sure I'll be primed for it.” Trevor screwed up his mouth. Too much to say and no good way to say it. “Will you have to carry a gun?”

Dan shook his head. “This isn't going to be dangerous.”

“Still, I mean … a bodyguard? It sounds a bit ominous, Dan.”

Dan hesitated. He hadn't really considered Trevor's reaction when he agreed to take the job. “I'm sorry,
I should have discussed it with you first. I don't want to give you anything to worry about.”

Trevor shook his head. “That's not it. I know you'll be sensible.”

“What is it then?”

Trevor shrugged. “I just wish you had a risk-free job.”

“Like what, an accountant?”

Trevor grinned. “Yeah, something like that. You'd make a super-sexy accountant in your pinstripe three-piece. Anyway, supper is nearly ready. Be a good boy and go wash your hands and get ready to eat. Afterward, you can be my dishwasher. That's relatively safe, I think.”

“Give me five minutes. I've got a few phone calls to make first.”

“Don't be long,” Trevor said with mock-gruffness.

His office felt like a tomb. Lights down low, the rumble of traffic outside on the street, the air nicely chill from the AC. Death might be a pleasant lull, if this was any indication. All that peace and nothing to disturb you. He had Ed on the phone. His ex-boss sounded happily surprised to hear from him. He was probably hoping Dan had changed his mind about offering his sources. Dan nipped that possibility in the bud. He didn't want it to become an issue, especially as he'd cultivated a number of those sources while working for Ed's firm. He mentioned Jags Rohmer. Ed remembered the name from their conversation outside the elevator but still had only a vague idea who he was.

“I could hum a few bars of his songs if you think it would help.”

“No, thanks, Daniel. I seem to recall that you're a worse singer than I am. My ex-wife said something to that effect in her divorce suit. Anyway, what about him?”

“He showed up on my doorstep this evening. He wants to hire me as a bodyguard.”

“A bodyguard?” Ed snorted.

“Yes. I was wondering if you had anything to do with it.”

“Not intentionally. Does this have something to do with our meeting at the police station?”

“He seemed to think you recommended me to them. I wondered if you said anything to make them think I did personal bodyguard work.”

“Not me,” Ed said.

“Okay, no problem.”

“My turn. I know it's none of my business, but don't tell me that. One of your last cases with us, right before you deserted us …”

“Before I retired from the firm,” Dan corrected.

“Whatever you want to call it. And I'm still trying to find a replacement, by the way, so the offer to return is still there. Anyway, right before you left me without the best investigator I ever had, there was a case involving a teenager who went missing after being picked up by the police for soliciting at a gay cruising area in Oshawa.”

A pot clanked downstairs in the kitchen.

Ed was referring to Lester before he changed his name from Richard and before he had the good fortune to move in with Donny.

‘I vaguely remember it.”

“Vaguely? Like hell, Danny. You've got a mind like a steel trap.”

“As I said, I
vaguely
remember it, but go on.”

“No need. You just answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Whether you solved the case or not.”

Dan hesitated. “I never found Richard Phillips.”

Ed was silent for a while. Then he burst out laughing. “You ‘vaguely' remember it yet you have the boy's name on the tip of your tongue.”

“I remember some things better than others.”

“But you didn't find him?”

“I didn't find Richard Phillips, no.”

“I wondered. Because that was the only case where you ever showed a ‘no return' on a file. No clues, no possible leads. It just didn't add up. Not for the unshakable Dan Sharp.”

“You can't win 'em all, Ed.”

“I guess not. Okay, I just wondered.”

“Should I ask why?”

Ed sighed. “I'm not supposed to say anything, but there is a possibility that somehow that boy's case is connected to the current investigation.”

Dan felt a tingle. “In what way?”

“That's all I can say for now, Daniel. You're not the only one who keeps secrets.”

“Point taken.”

Dan was beginning to feel bad for not telling Ed the truth. He thought about it while the line hummed between them. Downstairs, the front door opened. Ked had returned with Ralph. A leash tinkled, claws scampered across the floor.

“Do you remember how old that kid was, Ed?”

“No. I don't have that kind of memory. How old was he?”

“He turned fifteen just after the case came to us. His birthday is the day before Ked's.”

“Interesting coincidence. So?”

“So … Ked's birthday is next month. Ask me in a month and I might remember the case a little more clearly.”

Ed guffawed. “Meaning when the boy is sixteen and legal. You
do
know where he is!”

“Gotta go, Ed. Supper's on the table.”

He put down the phone then picked it up again immediately.
What are the chances?
he asked himself, pulling out the card for the chief of police. He stared at the small white rectangle with its neat blue lines. All that law and order nestled in the palm of his hand. He started dialling.

When Dan came back downstairs he found Trevor seated at the table with a knowing look on his face. Ked drummed his fingers on the tabletop and looked off in the distance. Dan glanced up at the clock: he'd been considerably more than five minutes.

“You're incorrigible,” Trevor said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, and he's late, too,” Ked added.

Dan tried to look chagrined. “That's pretty much the same conclusion Ed Burch just drew about me. Sorry, I was a bit longer than I'd expected.”

Trevor indicated the empty place. “Sit. Nothing got burned, but the pasta's going to be soggy.”

“Does working for Jags Rohmer mean you're going to become completely unreliable from now on, Dad?” Ked asked.

Dan turned to him. “Just remember:
Father Knows Best
. If you can do that, all will be well.”

Ked harrumphed.

Trevor set their plates on the table. Ked dug in, all but wolfing down his food. Dan picked up his fork then looked away. A streetcar went by on Queen, making the walls tremble.

Trevor waited for him to begin. Dan was lost in thought.

“Want to talk about it?”

Dan looked over. “What?”

“I'm not prying, but you seem preoccupied.”

“Yeah, it's all right.” He speared a piece of rigatoni and gulped it down. “I called Ed. My former boss. Ed didn't know about Jags. In fact, if you can believe it, Ed doesn't even know who he is apart from ‘some old rocker.' Personally, I find it hard to believe that anyone over the age of ten cannot have an idea who Jags Rohmer is, but that's beside the point. Ed lives in his own world anyway, so I'll leave him to it.”

Trevor held up a carafe. Ruby red. “Wine?”

“Yes, please,” Ked piped up. “It will make up for the unconscionable wait.”

Dan looked over at his son. “‘Unconscionable'?”

Ked shrugged. “Incorrigible, unconscionable — what's the difference?”

“About the same difference as between wine and root beer. Your drink's in the fridge, by the way. Help yourself, buddy.”

Ked got up and went to the fridge.

Trevor filled his glass. Dan took a gulp of wine without tasting it.

“Where was I? Oh, yes — Jags Rohmer and Ed Burch. So there's that. Then I …”

Trevor put up a hand. “Wait a minute. There's what?”

Dan shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. “He didn't know anything about my being hired by Jags. But Jags told me Ed had recommended me to two of the cops I met this morning. Ed didn't feel he'd said anything to that effect.”

“Meaning?”

“I don't know. It's just odd, isn't it? The person who hires you says you've been recommended by a friend and the friend says nothing of the sort happened.”

“Yes, it's odd.”

“So then I phoned the chief of police …”

Trevor and Ked caught each other's glance.

“What?” Dan asked.

Trevor shook his head. “First Jags Rohmer and now the chief of police? Where have you been hanging out lately?”

“Yeah. Take us with you next time, Dad,” Ked said then bent his head and began shovelling pasta into his mouth.

“Anyway,” Dan continued, spearing a stalk of asparagus with his fork. He brought it to his mouth then put it down again. “I was shocked when I was actually put through to his private line. It's like I had a magic pass or something. All he could tell me is that he and his crew had a meeting with Jags and somehow my name came up as a possible bodyguard for hire.”

“So it should be all right then. Shouldn't it?”

“I guess. I gather Jags was insistent on wanting some sort of protection and they weren't about to provide it for him, so they eased him off on me. At least that's the sense I got. I know Ed Burch provided some impeccable references for me, but he wouldn't recommend me as a bodyguard. It's just not something I've ever done before.”

Trevor took stock of this. “When do you start?”

Dan thought back to his conversation with Jags. “I don't know. He never said.” He finally tucked a bite of pasta into his mouth.

Trevor cocked an eyebrow at him. “It all sounds a bit sketchy to me.”

Ked sat back, regarding Dan over a frothy glass of root beer. “To me, too.” He shrugged. “But
Father Knows Best
, right?”

“That's right,” Dan told him. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

Trevor passed the basket of rolls.

“Anyway, as long as I get paid, it doesn't matter,” Dan said, reaching for a roll and never thinking for a moment how much he might regret having said that in the days to come.

A week went by. Dan heard nothing further from the police department about the murder investigation. He called Darlene Hillary one morning, murmuring vague reassurances that things were pending. They both knew it meant nothing. Dan wished he hadn't said he'd try to help. A lover's promise whispered in the heat of passion, gone forever afterward.

Jags, on the other hand, was true to his word. He wasn't overly demanding of Dan's time or resources. They met midweek to discuss Dan's salary and his duties. None of what Jags proposed sounded pressing, so Dan began to relax. The most worrying thing was Jags' confession about his behaviour.

“I apologize in advance,” he told Dan. The voice was gravelly, like he'd been up singing dirges all night. “But you may from time to time have to put up with my whims.”

“‘Whims'?”

“Moods. Hissy fits. Don't take offence. I piss everyone off, sooner or later.”

“Ah, you mean that bitchy rock star stuff. Are you saying you want me to put you in your place from time to time?”

Jags cocked a shaggy eyebrow at him. “Something like that.”

“No problem.”

He handed Dan a complicated-looking set of keys, like something a medieval monk might remove from his cassock as he went about taking last confessions from dying prisoners. “For my penthouse,” he said, reciting the address of a well-known luxury condominium. “It'll save you having to get past security. And believe me, you'd rather not deal with them if you don't have to.”

“Man-eaters?”

“Eastern European ex-Stasi. Very efficient. Very deadly. Just like a pack of Rottweilers.” He nodded to the ring. “There's an additional key on there. It's for my house on Algonquin Island.”