Josh Aterovis is the author of Bleeding Hearts (ISBN: 1930928688) and the upcoming Reap the Whirlwind (Coming in May of 2003), published by Renaissance Alliance Publishing Inc. (http://www.rapbooks.biz) The Truth of Yesterday is the fourth book in the Killian Kendall series.
Visit "Black Sheep Productions" for more information. Official Site of the Killian Kendall Mystery Series http://www.steliko.com/bleedinghearts
The Truth of Yesterday
Chapter 28
I flipped open my cell phone and dialed Chris before I'd even started the car.
"Can you get me Detective Evans's phone number?" I asked as soon as she answered.
"Sure, hang on," she said with no hesitation. I guess the excitement in my voice was obvious enough that she didn't even mention the fact that I had failed to say hello. She was back in a few seconds to give me the number. I thanked her, promised to explain later, and disconnected, only to dial the detective's number as soon as I got a signal.
"Hello?" he answered gruffly. I was pleased that Chris had given me a direct number and I didn't have to waste time with a receptionist.
"Detective Evans? This is Killian Kendall. We talked today about..."
"I know who you are, Kendall. I'm not senile. Can you please tell me why you are calling me on my direct line? Quickly now, before I hang up."
"I just finished talking to Paul's mother and I found something out that I thought you might want to know."
"Of course you did. And what will this information cost me?"
"You're so cynical, Detective."
"I've worked with PI's for too long not to be. So what is it?"
"I need a phone number."
"For who?"
"Paul's boyfriend."
"We don't even know if he had one."
"I do, and I know his name. And I'd be willing to bet his phone number is in that address book you have, and you've probably talked to him."
"Spill."
"Will you give me his number?"
"I don't owe you anything. If you don't tell me I'll have you arrested for obstructing justice."
"You can't deny that I get results."
"It must be your baby face, you inspire confidence."
"Do we have a deal?"
"Deal."
"The name is Tom Jackson."
I heard the sound of paper shuffling and then there were a few seconds of silence.
"There's no Tom Jackson in the address book," he said. I felt my heart drop. "But there is a TJ." More rustling papers. "Damn, you are one lucky son of a bitch. We talked to him. His full name is Thomas Jackson. He claimed he was just an acquaintance of Flynn's and didn't really know him."
"It's not luck. His number?"
The detective reluctantly read it off to me, then said, "We're going to have to question him again. I can't stop you from talking to him, but if you do talk to him before we do, don't spook him or it'll be your head."
"I'll do what I can. Either way, I'll tell you everything I find out."
"You'd better," he said, and hung up.
I quickly dialed Tom Jackson's phone number and held my breath while it rang. It was answered on the fifth ring.
"Hello?" a male voice said.
"Tom Jackson?" I asked.
"Speaking."
"This is Killian Kendall; I'm a private investigator looking into the death of Paul Flynn."
There was a long silence. I allowed it to stretch out, determined not to be the one to break it. "I already told the police I didn't know Paul Flynn that well," he said at last.
"I'm not the police. Mr. Jackson, I know you and Paul were lovers. I spoke to his mother. She said she'd met you." Silence. "I'm trying to find Paul's killer. I think I know who it is but I need your help to catch him." More silence. "Mr. Jackson?"
"What do you want?"
"I want to talk to you, face to face. I promise you, I don't mean you any harm."
"Who hired you? Why are you investigating Paul's death?"
"I was hired by a friend of Paul's, his ex-lover."
"Why would he care?"
"He still cared for Paul. He was very hurt when he found out he'd been murdered, and even more so when he found out that the police weren't pursuing this case with the fervor he expected."
Tom Jackson snorted. "They're hardly pursuing it at all."
"That's why he hired me."
"You think you know who did this?"
"I have suspicions."
"And you think I can help?"
"I'm hoping so."
"Ok. I'll meet you. But it has to be somewhere public. For all I know, you could be the killer and you're afraid I know something so you're coming after me too."
"Is that why you didn't talk to the police? You were afraid?"
"Wouldn't you be in my position?"
"I probably would be. Where can we meet?"
"I live in Annapolis. Can you meet me there in about an hour? I can give you directions to a restaurant I know where we can talk privately."
"I don't really know the area that well. I'm in Arlington now; how long would that take me to get to Annapolis?"
"An hour should be plenty of time. You just get on 50 and follow it until you see the exit. It's well marked." He gave me directions to the restaurant and we disconnected. I started the car and set off for Annapolis. I sure was doing a lot of driving around for this case.
The drive was simple if not exactly interesting. While I drove, I tried to keep my mind busy with trivia about the capital of Maryland to keep from falling asleep. Aside from being the capital, I knew it was also the home of the United States Naval Academy and one of the oldest schools in the country, St. John's College. It was even the Capital of the United States briefly. When I ran out of trivia, which didn't take long, I let my mind wander where it wanted. It slithered around various things-Amalie, Jake, Fenton Black, Tom Jackson-before finally settling on Paul. After seeing that picture of him, he'd suddenly become more real to me somehow. It was almost as if before I'd seen it he was just an abstract concept, a puzzle to unravel. He'd been Micah's Ex, the Escort, the Murder Victim. Now, he was simply a person. Someone who had loved and been loved. Someone gone forever. I had a sudden urge to cry, but fought off the tears. It wouldn't do to show up for my meeting with Tom Jackson with red-rimmed eyes and a case of the sniffles. It wouldn't be a very professional image.
I found the restaurant and parked in the tiny parking lot across the street. The restaurant was on the first floor of a small brick building, part of a block long stretch of two story brick edifices that could have easily dated back to the 19th Century. Farther along the street, I saw a couple antique stores, an art supply store, and a few more coffee shops and restaurants. It looked as if the second floors had been converted into apartments and I wondered if that was where Mr. Jackson lived. The wood trim on the buildings had been painted bright cheery colors and I thought it wouldn't be a bad place to live at all. The neighborhood had a bustling, cozy feel to it.
I walked in and looked around for a man sitting alone. It wasn't crowded and most of the people were there in pairs. I spotted one lone man sitting at a table off to one side. He was an attractive light-skinned black man in his early 30's, well-dressed with close-cropped hair and a clean-shaven face. I approached his table cautiously, unsure if this was the man I'd come to meet or not.
"Tom Jackson?" I asked in a low voice. He looked up and surprise registered on his face.
"Are you the detective?" he asked.
"Private Investigator. My name is Killian Kendall." I held out a hand for him to shake, which he did somewhat hesitantly.
"I expected-," he began, but cut himself off.
"Someone older?" I finished. "I get that a lot, but I can assure you, Mr. Jackson, I know what I'm doing."
"Call me TJ," he said. He had a soft, lyrical voice that sounded as if it would lend itself well to jazz. "I didn't mean to insult you. I realized as I was saying it that it was a stupid thing to say. I don't even know how old you are."
"I'm almost as young as I look, but that's not important. I appreciate your talking to me."
"It's the least I could do."
"I don't want to take up a lot of your time, so I'm going to jump right in. You and Paul were dating?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"We'd just celebrated our six month anniversary the week before he...before he was..." He stopped and swallowed several times, his eyes blinking rapidly.
His grief was painfully obvious; it rolled off of him like physical waves, washing over me and bringing those earlier tears back to the surface. I wondered why I could feel his pain so clearly and decided it must have just been because I was so tired. Before meeting him, I'd half wondered if my suspicions about Black could be wrong and the boyfriend might not be the killer. Having met him now, I no longer thought that. Every ounce of my intuition said he was innocent and had loved Paul very much. I hated to continue to dredge up these painful memories, but knew I had to.
"How did you meet?"
"We met last year. I teach music at a school in the city."
"DC?"
"Baltimore. The school was holding a benefit concert and Paul was there with a client. He came up to me after the concert to tell me how wonderful he thought the concert was and to congratulate me. He was so sweet. We hit it off right away. We talked for a while, but when he left, that was it. I didn't know his name or anything. A few months later, we ran into each other at a jazz concert on the Mall in DC." I smiled to myself about the jazz reference and my earlier guess. "He wasn't working that time and I was only there with a couple friends who wouldn't miss me at all, so we hung out for the rest of the night. That led to a few more dates and things just went from there."
"You knew he was an escort?"
"Yes, Paul was very up-front about that right from the start."
"And it didn't bother you at all?" I admit this question was more for me than from the standpoint of the case.
"Not really. It was his job; he had it before I met him. Who am I to judge him? He was a good person. I knew that instinctively from the first time I met him. That was all I needed to know."
His words sunk into me like rain into parched ground. I sat quiet for so long TJ finally waved a hand in front of my face. "You still there?" he asked.
"Sorry," I said, blushing. "My mind wandered for a second there. I didn't get much sleep last night." I shook my head to clear it. "Were you planning a vacation with Paul?"
His eyes widened. "How'd you know about that?"
"Plane tickets for two were found in his safe, along with a few other things."
"They were..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "They were for our honeymoon. We were planning to have a commitment ceremony. Paul surprised me with them on our anniversary."
"Why all the secrecy?"
"The school I work for isn't the most liberal institution. It's a private school, religiously backed. They don't know I'm gay. Well, actually, a few people on the faculty know, but they are all very protective of me. The administration doesn't know and if I want to keep my job, I'd better keep it that way. I love my job, Mr. Kendall."
"Call me Killian," I said absently.
"Ok, Killian. You mentioned a few other things in the safe, do you mind if I ask what they were?"
"Not at all. In fact, maybe you can help explain them. There was a bank book with regular deposits but no withdraws and some letters that didn't say who they were to."
"The bank book is easy. We'd started a savings account for the two of us, as a safety net in case I lost my job. We were putting whatever we could spare into it as often as we could afford it. It was only in his name because I was too paranoid to open a joint account."
"And the letters?"
He looked away.
"I think those letters were to Paul's killer," I said softly. "If I'm right, then you could help me catch him. I need you to tell me everything you know about this, TJ. It could be really important."
He drew in a shaky breath. "I told him to just leave it alone, but he couldn't. He was the type of person who couldn't stand to see injustice go unchallenged."
"What was the injustice?"
"He found out some things about someone he knew."
"TJ, you're going to have to be more specific. I already know all this. How about if I make it easier on you. I tell you what I suspect and you tell me if I'm right or wrong?"
He nodded jerkily.
"I suspect that Paul somehow found out that his boss Neal was really Fenton Black."
"He'd known that for a while, after Black made the mistake of showing up at a society dinner that Paul was attending with a client. Black is an arrogant bastard. He walked right up to Paul and introduced himself. Paul recognized his voice right away, although he didn't let Black know."
"Ok. So then, Paul maybe finds out about all the shady dealings Black was involved with and it eats at him. Right?" TJ nodded. "So he starts writing him those letters, trying to get him to...what? Here's where I get lost. What was Paul hoping to accomplish? He doesn't seem like the blackmailing type. What was he trying to do, get Black to do the right thing? Was he really that naïve?"
"He wasn't trying to blackmail him," he snapped, then took a deep breath. "Sorry. In many ways, yes, Paul was that naïve. He was very idealistic. He had this view of the way he thought the world should be and expected everything to fit that way. Even after all he'd been through, with his family abandoning him and his lover leaving."
"What did Black do when he got the letters?" I tried to ignore the reference to his lover leaving.
"He contacted Paul, told him to back off. Paul told him that he had saved copies of all the letters along with a file that described in great detail everything Paul had on him."
"There was nothing like that in the safe. No files, nothing to even hint at who the letters were too."
"That's because it was never in the safe. He kept it somewhere else, as a precaution."
"Where?"
"I...I don't know."
"Black is a ruthless criminal," I said, urgency filling my voice. "You have to tell me what you know. Paul isn't the first person he has killed, but we can make sure he's the last."
TJ sat for a moment, then stood up abruptly and walked out. At first, I thought he'd simply walked out of the interview. I was feeling a little miffed about being stiffed with the check again for the second time that day, even though TJ had only ordered a soda and I hadn't ordered anything, when he walked back in carrying a slim file. He sat back down across from me and slid it across the table.
"I had a feeling you'd be looking for this," he said. "So I brought it. I just didn't know if I would have the courage to give it to you."
"Why wouldn't you have the courage?"
"It makes me involved more than I already was. If Black decides to get revenge, now he has a reason to come after me."
"How would he even know who you are?"
"You found me; if he's half the master criminal Paul and you have made him out to be, he'll be able to find me too."
"If this information accomplishes what I hope it will, he'll be behind bars."
"They have ways of reaching beyond those bars."
"I think you've been watching too much of the Sopranos," I tried to insert a little levity into the conversation. I could tell TJ really was terrified. He was eying the folder as if he was thinking about snatching it away and running. I quickly flipped it open and began to read.
I immediately felt my eyes bulge as I quickly thumbed through the file's contents, amazed and excited by what I saw. If Paul hadn't been murdered, he would have made one hell of an investigator. He had somehow amassed a dossier documenting Black's illegal activities, complete with the much-needed proof. He had managed conclusively to connect Fenton Black to the alias of Neal Parsons, the owner and operator of the Top to Bottom Escort Agency. There were several photographs, each of Black with a different man, all taken outdoors while the men in the pictures were talking. On the back of each one, Paul had carefully printed the date, time, and location of each photo, along with the identity of the men with Fenton Black. I only recognized one of the names, but that was enough to send chills down my spine. He was one of the most wanted drug lords in the US.
It was the last few pages that really caught my attention, however. They were deeds for large plots of lands, all on the Eastern Shore. Each piece of property was originally zoned as protected wetlands, but I happened to know that they had recently been rezoned for development thanks to certain corrupt politicians; the very same ones that Micah has recently exposed. Pieces began to fall into place and I was suddenly more afraid for Micah than ever.
"Have you read this?" I asked TJ, my heart pounding in my chest.
"No," he said so quickly I knew he was lying.
"I need you to go with me to the police, immediately."
He began shaking his head. "No way," he said. "You don't need me, you've got the file. I've done my part."
"I may need you to verify that Paul gathered this data and this is what he was killed for."
"I can't do it. I'm sorry, but I'm just not a brave person."
"Yes, you can do it. You have to. Look, the police know you were Paul's boyfriend. I told them that before I came to talk to you. I'm not flying on my own out there; I'm cooperating with the police. I'm going to tell them exactly where I got this from and everything you told me. If you don't come forward now, it could look like you have something to hide. And you can be guaranteed that they will come looking for you."
He looked absolutely miserable. I only hoped my little speech would convince him to come with me and not spook him, as Evans had warned me not to do. If TJ bolted, Evans would have my neck for sure.
"Fine, I'll go with you," he finally said after several long seconds of tense silence.
"Good. I have to make a couple phone calls. Wait here." I jumped up and practically ran out of the restaurant. I had to call Micah and warn him.
I stayed near the restaurant's front door while I dialed so I'd see TJ if he tried to slip out. Micah answered quickly.
"It's Killian," I said somewhat breathlessly.
"Are you ok?" he asked.
"It's been a long day, but I just found out some things that you need to know about. Listen carefully; I don't have a lot of time. I've got a skittish witness waiting inside that I need to get the police pronto."
"Killian, what's going on?"
"I found Paul's boyfriend. The letters Paul wrote were to Fenton Black. Before he was killed, Paul had given his boyfriend a file containing evidence that Black was the same person as Neal Parsons and that he was associated with drug lords."
"That's great! Solid evidence? That's the proof you needed that he had a motive to kill Paul."
"Micah, there's more. Black was also involved in the wetlands scandal there on the Shore. He was the real owner of the properties that had been rezoned."
"What? But his name isn't on any of the deeds."
"Dig back and you'll find them. I have copies of the deeds in my hand right now. He probably sold them to some dummy companies or to fake names, but I'm betting you'll find that he was at the core of the corruption in the council."
"Wow. This is an even bigger story than I ever imagined."
"Weren't you listening? That means you're in as much danger as I am."
"I've been in danger of one sort or another since I broke this story. I'm not worried."
I sighed. "You'll at least be careful?"
"Of course I'll be careful, as long as you promise to be careful too."
"I promise. I have to go. I have to go see the detective and give him this information."
"Ok. Killian, I love you."
"I love you too."
We hung up and I quickly called Detective Evans to tell him I was coming in with an important witness and the evidence he'd been waiting for.
"This had better be good, Kendall. I was supposed to get off in 15 minutes," he growled.
"It'll be worth the overtime, sir," I assured him. "I think you'll be very interested in what I have to show you."
I hung up and rushed back into the restaurant. I was very relieved to find TJ still sitting at the table, although he'd shredded his napkin into confetti.
"Are you ready?" I asked.
"No, but I'm as ready as I'm going to get."
I smiled encouragingly and held out my hand. "Let's go stop a killer."