Gumshoe Gorilla (55 page)

Vince was late. No big surprise there. I hadn't pegged him as a morning person. I took another bite of my eggs, and tried to flag down the waiter for a second cup of coffee.

I'd set the meet for Einstein's, a restaurant on Juniper street. It's a little trendy for my taste, but Daniel used to drag me to it all the time. On the weekends, the place gets overrun by the beautiful people. --You can't get a decent table for Sunday brunch unless you look pretty enough to be a model or rich enough to be a model's sugar daddy.-- Luckily, though, things are a bit quieter for Monday breakfast. And they do make a damn good omelet.

I was about halfway through my meal when I finally spotted Vince crossing the street. He jumped the railing around the restaurant's patio and came over to my table.

"Drew, right?" he said, looking me over. He grinned and sat down. "So what's good here?"

"It doesn't matter," I said. "You won't be staying long enough to eat."

He looked me over more carefully.

"That's a shame. Food puts me in a cooperative mood. So what's this 'important business' that we need to talk about? Daniel, I'm guessing?"

"Indirectly."

"Yeah, I figured you had a thing for him. Just the way he talks about you. The way you're always calling. So let me guess... This is where you tell me to back off, so that you can have a chance with him, right?"

"Actually, no. This is where I ask you about your plan to blackmail Jackson Montague. How far along are you?"

That caught him off guard. Vince sat up straight and a look of caution crossed his eyes. It took him a few seconds to get his game face back on.

"What do you want?"

"I'm just trying to keep Daniel out of trouble," I said. "Unfortunately, that means that I'll probably have to bail your ass out as well. Now answer the question: have you sent your demands yet?"

Vince looked me in the eye, trying to figure me out.

"Yes."

"And have you got the money?"

Again, the pause.

"No."

"That's a shame. I don't think you're gonna be able to wait around long enough to collect it. Is your car close by?"

"Yeah. It's across the street. Why?"

"Good. If you get in and start driving now, you might make it. Don't stop to pack."

He leaned back in his chair, trying to play it cool.

"Are you threatening me?"

"No just giving you some good advice. I found out about your little blackmail scheme a couple days ago. Gotta tell you, I've seen all kinds of scams, and this was a good one. You must have a knack for this sort of thing."

"Thanks."

"It wasn't a compliment. Still, you seem like a pretty resourceful guy. I mean, tracking down Montague's abandoned son. Tricking him into sleeping with his father. Getting pictures of the two of them having kinky incestuous vampiric sex. You've really got Montague over a barrel. There are just a couple of things about the plan that don't add up."

"Like what?"

"Well, first off, there's no way that you could have tracked down Montague's son. I know, I looked into it. Those records are locked up so tight that the President herself probably couldn't find out where that kid is now. I kept wracking my brain, trying to figure out how you managed to find him. And then there's the question of motive. There are a lot of rich guys with deviant sexual habits. Why pick on Montague? If anything, you should have avoided him. Mob lawyers make risky blackmail targets."

Vince screwed his poker face on a little tighter.

"It finally hit me that the two problems have one solution. There was only way that you could know who Montague's son is. And it's the same reason that you've got such a grudge against him."

Vince's lips tightened. Or perhaps I should say Preston Montague's lips tightened. I lowered my voice.

"You were three years old when he sent you away. Somehow you remembered your real name, didn't you?"

Vince stared back, unblinking.

"I'm guessing that you decided to track down Daddy. Did a little checking up on him. Found out about his interesting sexual tastes. I can imagine what happened next. You spend your whole life thinking that dad sent you away for being gay, and then you discover that he's an even more twisted puppy than you are. That it was never about you. It was about protecting his own secrets. That's when you decided to take him down."

I paused, giving Vince a chance to jump into the conversation. But his face was an unmoving mask.

"Your only mistake was that you didn't do it all yourself. If you'd just seduced your father yourself..."

He flinched, ever so slightly.

"Funny. You don't strike me as having many scruples. But I guess some taboos run deeper than others. Anyway, that's why you needed Daniel. Someone with a history that could have been yours. A kid from the camps, a kid who looks a bit like you. And the fact that he's a hustler made it easier to set him up with your father. All you needed were a few strands of your own hair, dyed blond, to close the trap."

We sat there staring at each other for a few seconds. Finally Vince broke down and said something.

"Why are you getting involved in this?"

"Ordinarily, I wouldn't. Montague's a hypocrite, and he deserves whatever he gets. But you got Daniel mixed up in this. I have this thing about people who get my friends hooked on drugs and tangled up in blackmail plots."

"Oh yeah?" Vince said, putting his elbows on the table and leaning towards me. "Well then you've got a problem. Because you can't do a thing about any of this."

"Oh really?" I said, cracking a smile for the first time. "And why is that?"

"Because I've still got the photos. Even if you tell Montague that Daniel's not his son, I've still got enough to mess up his life. I don't think his wife or his country club friends will particularly care who the blond guy is in those photos. As long as I've got the pictures, Montague can't touch me. And I can get whatever I want from him."

Vince smiled.

"I could even have him get rid of you."

"Maybe," I said. "If the pictures still mattered."

A puzzled look slipped past Vince's guard. He didn't get it.

"I downloaded copies of them from your camera," I explained.

Blank look. He still didn't understand.

"I posted the pictures on the web half an hour ago," I said, spelling it out for him. "Copies went to Montague, his wife, his law firm, all the local newsites."

"What!"

"A couple of the ones with Daniel. Five or six with other boys from the party."

"Why?!"

"Because it gets you away from Daniel. When they try to backtrace the source of the pictures, they'll run into a recently opened dummy account. Unfortunately, it wasn't set up very carefully, and a little rudimentary digging will turn up your apartment as the billing address."

For the first time, Vince's poker face began to crack, and I could see the fear come into his eyes.

"Now, let's see," I continued. "Montague is a mob lawyer with a ton of money. So the first thing he'll do is deny everything and claim that the pictures are fakes. The second will be to have a conversation with someone named Ivan involving your name and the words 'make the sure the body isn't found.' Maybe the old wood chipper technique. You know, I hear that when they're really pissed, they don't even shoot you first. They just shove you in feet first, still kicking."

The imagery seemed to make an impression on Vince.

"By now Montague's business associates have probably finished the backtrace on the account that the photos were e-mailed from. They'll be sending someone to check out your apartment. And when they don't find you there, they'll call in more people, fanning out to look for you."

Vince was getting visibly edgy now. Turning around to watch the people passing by on the street. Wondering if any of them were looking for him. Feeling very exposed, out here in the open.

"You fucking pussy," he said, getting up to go. "You just had to stick your nose into this."

"Sit down," I said, firmly. "We're not done yet. You're gonna do something for me before you skip town."

"Yeah right. And why the fuck would I do that?"

"Because I can still mess with you," I said. "The mob probably has your address by now and the name Vincent Jett. But they don't know a thing about Vincent Price. You do as I say, and you may be able to go back to that identity. You fuck with me, and I send them a note with that name, a description of your car, and your license number. Understand?"

He sat down.

"What do you want?"

"First, an answer. How much did Daniel know about all this?"

Vince took a second too long to answer.

"Everything. I told him all about it. We agreed to split the money."

He was lying. I hadn't been sure until I heard him say it. But now it seemed obvious. Vince was too much of a weasel to split a payday with anybody. And Daniel didn't have it in him to be this vindictive. He might sleep with Montague for money, but he wouldn't ruin the guy's life.

"Fine. Now let me see your phone."

He passed it to me, and I looked it over. Like most phones, it had a memory feature that automatically records the last five calls, in case you need to replay them. I passed it back to him.

"Now call Daniel. Tell him you have to leave town, now. You can't explain why. But you're going away, and you can never come back. Tell him that you love him, and you'll never forget him."

"What?"

"Do I need to write it down for you?"

"No. But why?"

"That's my business."

Vince dialed. I listened in with him long enough to make sure that Daniel was on the other end, and then let him do the job. The whole thing took a minute or two longer than I was expecting, but from the sound of it, Vince hit all the major points.

Daniel's a sweet kid. And first love is a delicate thing. Finding out the truth about all this... I don't know what it would do to him. Maybe he turn hard inside. Maybe he would never trust anyone again. Better that he keep his illusions a while longer.

Vince finished the call and hung up.

"Are we done now?" he asked.

"Almost," I said. "Give me your phone."

He handed it over.

"OK. We're finished. If you head straight out of town, without going back for anything, you might make it. Oh, and if you ever call Daniel again, I'll give Montague everything I've got on you. Right down to your social security number."

Vincent glared at me, but he wasn't going to waste time trading insults. He stood up, hopped the railing, and then broke into a sprint towards his car. I watched him drive out of sight.

I put the phone down on the table and lingered over breakfast, waiting for the call. Daniel tried to get through a couple of times, but I saw his name on caller ID and didn't answer. Finally, a number came up with the listing
Identity Blocked
. I picked up the phone.

"Hello?" I said.

"Yes..." it was a deep, gravely voice. ". . . is this Vincent Jett?"

"Oh, you mean the dark haired kid?" I said. "No, it's weird. We were having breakfast, but I got up to use the restroom and when I came back he was gone. Left in such a hurry that he left his phone on the table. Look, do you know how to get in touch with him? I want to return it."

There was a pause, as the gravely voice thought about it.

"I'll be seeing him later. Where are you now?"

"Oh, I'm at Einstein's," I said. "You know, on Juniper? But I'm about to head off to a meeting. I can leave the phone with a waiter, if you want to come get it."

"I'll be right there."

I paid the bill in cash and gave the phone to the waiter, telling him that someone would be by to pick it up shortly. When they did, they would download its internal phonebook and replay the last few calls. They'd hear the call to Daniel, and know that he couldn't lead them to Vince. It would keep him out of this mess.

I walked across the street to get my car, then drove over to Daniel's place. The shades on his windows were drawn. Somewhere in there, the poor kid was crying his eyes out. I thought about going up, knocking on his door, trying to comfort him. But I knew where comforting would lead. If I were Jen, I might have ignored that. Gone up to his apartment and let the chips land where they may. Do a little more, think a little less. Take a chance.

But I'm not Jen. And I do think too much. And I can't play games with Daniel's heart. It's a hard thing, when you realize that you're not Mr. Right. That no matter how much you care about a person, you can't be what they need in their life right now. That sometimes loving a person means letting them find someone else.