Played to Death (15 page)

Monday, June 22

Jamie

On Sunday, Dr. Madorsky had sent out an email to all library staff telling everyone of the recovery of the music score. Shortly after, Dr. Loomis had sent an email saying that our Monday librarians’ meeting was cancelled. I was glad for that - I wouldn’t be called on to explain anything about the case.

I’d also agreed to meet with Scott, Kevin and Jon in my office at 9:00 for step two of the catch-a-killer-via-chat-room plan. When I got to work at 8:30, Scott was already standing at my office door, shifting from one foot to the other, looking more nervous than I'd ever seen him.

“What's going on?” I unlocked my office and let us both in.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

I turned on my computer and pulled my books and papers out of my computer bag. “What?”

Scott was still shifting his feet. I said, “Sit down. You're making me nervous.”

He sat but started drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. “I have something to tell you.”

“Good God, what is it? Do you and I have a secret love child or something?”

That got a sharp laugh from him. “No. But it's kind of related to that.”

I finished sorting out my belongings and sat down. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know I told you I'd met someone, up at the bookstore in Pasadena?”

“Yeah?”

“Turns out you know him.”

Uh oh. “How well do I know him?”

“In the Biblical sense.”

“Oh my God. Who have you hooked up with?”

Scott took a deep breath. He was almost cringing. “It's Ethan.”

I was stunned. “You are
shitting
me.”

“No.”

“Ethan
Williams?
”

“Yeah.”

“
Ethan
was at your reading?”

“Yeah. He said he'd gotten turned on to mysteries by an old boyfriend. I didn't know it was you.”

This had to be what Ethan wanted to tell me yesterday. “Does he know about you and me?”

“He does now. We had a confessional.”

“How did you figure this out?”

Scott shifted in his seat, still uncomfortable. “We were talking about relationships. I said that the only successful relationships I'd had were with musicians, except for one that was an athlete. Ethan said he was both.”

“He's an excellent pianist. And he rows.”

“I asked him where he went to college, and he said Berkeley then Oxford. I said, that's odd, my athlete boyfriend went to Berkeley then Oxford. Ethan said when, I told him, and Ethan went pale and said, 'Was it Jamie Brodie?' and I said ‘yes.’ Then we both just stared at each other for a few minutes. Kind of like you're staring at me now.”

This was - unbelievable. In a county of ten million people, what were the odds? But… I said slowly, “You know what? You two are pretty well suited to each other.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You both grew up well-to-do. You're both only children. You both had less than stellar relationships with your parents, although yours was far better than his. You're both musicians, although not on the same level. You have similar interests you may not even have uncovered yet. Ethan loves art galleries and foreign films. He'll be thrilled to go to film festivals with you. He loves listening to music. He'll go to all your concerts and to clubs with music just like I did, and he'll love it. He would have gladly gone to that wedding with you just to hear the quartet play. And he knows Hugo Boss from Tom Ford.”

For some reason, Scott’s expression was tense. “So what's the downside?”

I paused, wondering how much to say. “Ethan’s an accomplished liar. He’d been planning to leave me for six months, and I had no idea. I can’t say that he’s completely trustworthy.” I studied Scott. “And - somehow, you already suspect that.”

“He wasn’t out to his father. I’ve always seen that as a character flaw.”

“He’s out now, and his father is dead. He may have changed. Just - be careful.”

“You all were together for a long time.”

“Seven years.”

“That's a hell of a lot longer than I've been with anyone.”

“It's by far his longest relationship, too.”

“You must have loved him.”

“I did. When he left me it nearly killed me.”

Scott nodded. “Has he apologized to you?”

“Yeah. He has. Something else is bothering you.”

“He said that you and Pete were well-suited. He’d previously led me to believe that he’d never been to LA before. When I asked him about it, I could tell that he wasn’t giving me the whole story.”

Should I tell Scott the whole story? I didn’t have time to decide; Kevin chose that moment to stick his head in the door. “What are you two scowling about?”

I said, “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe it.”

Scott’s expression became grim. “Let’s get this over with.”

Jon handed me a slip of paper with a web address on it. “This is the URL of the chat site where Tristan Oliver met his dealer. We’d like Scott to create an account.”

I sat at my computer and typed in the URL. “You’re positive Dr. Oliver had no knowledge of the origins of the score?”

“Yes. Poor guy was appalled. He handed the score over to us without complaint.”

Scott looked miserable. I said, “Do you really need Scott for this?”

Kevin said, “He’s the only cellist we can trust.”

Scott smiled wanly. “Gee, that’s heartwarming.”

I stood and let Scott take my seat. “There you go. Looks like the same rules as the other site.”

Scott clicked a couple of times. “Should I use the same screen name?”

Kevin said, “No, in case the thief was a member of the other site and read your exchanges with Oliver. We don’t him to suspect any connection.”

Jon said, “Create a new email account, too.”

Scott sighed deeply. “Okay.”

I watched as he created a new email address and then joined the site using the screen name eastman02. He posted a message in the Welcome discussion thread and sat back. “Now what?”

Jon said, “Same approach as before. Take a few days, read the threads, see if you can find the one where Oliver interacted with the dealer. If you do, let us know. We’ll see if we can trace the IP address.”

Kevin said, “Post a few innocuous comments but don’t mention Isaacson yet. We’d rather ID the guy without having to draw him out.”

“Fine.” Scott looked deeply unhappy. I felt sorry for him. “Anything else for now?”

“Nope.” Kevin seemed to be sympathetic to Scott’s mood. “You’re doing great, Scott. We appreciate this more than I can tell you.”

A faint smile. “Can I log out?”

“Yep. Stay in touch.”

Scott stood, regaining a little of his snarkiness. “Yes,
sir
.”

Kevin grinned.

When I got home, Pete was in the kitchen, ladling something from a deep pot into plastic freezer containers. I kissed him hello and sniffed. “Chicken stock?”

“Yep.” He snapped the lid onto the final container and rinsed the ladle. “I thought we might go shopping for a freezer this evening.”

We’d cleaned out our downstairs storage unit last November planning to get a chest freezer for the space so Pete could cook in bigger batches and freeze more - but money had been tight and we hadn’t gotten around to it.

No longer an issue.

I said, “Sure. But do I have some news for
you
.” I told him about Scott and Ethan.

Pete listened with his mouth half-open in disbelief. “You - no fuckin’
way
.”

“Unbelievable, right? What are the odds?”

Pete looked skeptical. “So who’s got the upper hand between those two?”

I gave him a look. “Does someone have to have the upper hand? Who’s got the upper hand between us?”

He grinned. “You do, obviously.”

I frowned at him. “Okay, we can discuss that later. But between Ethan and Scott - I’d say Scott. Scott’s been out his entire life. He’s deeply entrenched in gay LA society, and he’s dated more people. Ethan’s new to town and he doesn’t know anyone, so he’ll be partly dependent on Scott to introduce him to the city. Scott has lots of connections. Ethan doesn’t. And Scott’s tougher, braver, less damaged than Ethan and a couple of years older. My money’s on him.”

After dinner, we went to an appliance store and picked out a freezer, which would be delivered the next day while Pete was home, then went to Target and bought nearly every freezer container they had. When we got home, I swept up the storage space and moved the few things that were in the way while Pete washed out the new containers. When I locked the door to the storage unit and climbed the steps to the deck and back door, Pete met me on the deck with a beer. “The space is ready?”

“It’s ready. The containers are clean?”

He grinned. “They are. Ready to find out why you have the upper hand in our relationship?”

I dropped into an Adirondack chair and took a swig of beer. “Do tell.”

He sat next to me. “For most of the same reasons that you gave about Scott. You’ve been out your whole life. You’ve dated more people. And you’re tougher and less damaged than me.”

“Okay, I’ll give you some of those, but I don’t know how you figure that I’m tougher.”

Pete took a drink. “Trust me. You are.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’ll point out examples as I see them. But I have a question for you. Do you think you could ever be friends with any of your exes?”

“I am friends with Alex. And I parted on good terms with Nick, but we run in totally different circles so I never have a reason to see him. The others - I don’t know. Eric might be a candidate if he isn’t as needy with his friends as he is with his boyfriends.”

Pete nodded. “I liked Eric, except for the clinginess. What about Scott?”

“You know, before Kent and Graham’s wedding I would have said, no way. But now that we’re sort of working together on this case - I think Scott makes a better friend than partner. His self-centeredness is a problem in a relationship, but it might not be an issue in a friendship.” I stretched out my legs on the footrest. “Liz and Kristen were both friends with Scott. We had some good times together, and Scott apparently likes Jon. I can imagine a world where we’d socialize occasionally with Scott.”

“Even if he’s dating Ethan?”

“Hm.” I considered that. “I’m still recovering from the shock that Ethan lives in the same city now. Anything beyond that - I don’t know.”

That seemed to satisfy him.

We were lying in bed that night when Pete asked, “What do you think marriage will be like?”

“I don't know.” Pete hadn't asked casually; this sounded like the beginning of a serious conversation. I rolled onto my side to face him. “Jeff says it's different, but he couldn't explain how. What do you think?”

“I have no idea.”

“Does that concern you?”

“Kind of.” Pete crossed his hands on his belly. “I know it's different, everyone says so. But neither you nor I grew up with a good model for it. My model was lousy, and you didn't have one. How do we know we can do this?”

“Do you think anyone knows before they get married? It's like having a kid. How do you know you're going to be a good parent?”

He turned his face toward me, his expression somber in the dimly lit room. “I’m still concerned about the sex thing.”

“I wish you wouldn’t worry about it.” I reached out and ran my finger down the center of his chest. “You’ll make yourself anxious again. We saw what happened with that before.”

“I don’t really
worry
about it. I suspect it’s something that will come up again.”

So did I. “When it does, we’ll handle it. I’m sure there are going to be other issues that we hadn’t anticipated. We’ll work them out.”

Even in the dark room, I could see his smile.

A few hours later, I woke with a start from a nightmare. Pete and I climbed to Eagle Rock to get married, only to find Ethan there with Pete’s Oxford crush, Bryn Davies, and Neil. Pete let go of my hand, took Bryn’s and moved to Neil’s left. I was frozen in shock when Ethan steered me to Neil’s right. Neil was beaming. “Wonderful! A double wedding! Let’s begin.”

I calmed my breathing and turned my head on the pillow to look at Pete, slumbering peacefully beside me.

Other issues we hadn’t anticipated, indeed.

Thursday, June 25

Scott

Scott hadn’t heard from Ethan since Saturday evening. He’d texted him a couple of times and gotten no response. He’d stayed close to the house for a couple of days, thinking that maybe Ethan would drop by, but then had decided,
Fuck it
. He’d taken Verna to dinner on Tuesday to thank her for the continued use of her Isaacson duet and met a couple of friends at El Caribe, down in Venice, last night. This morning he’d walked to Book Soup and bought a sack full of books, planning to indulge himself with a quiet evening of reading.

He fixed himself a sandwich for lunch and checked the chat site while he ate. On Tuesday, he’d found the original conversations between Oliver and Percival - whose screen name, fortunately, was
cpercival
- and sent the link to Jon and Kevin; they had traced the IP address to a McDonalds in Glendale. Scott had made a few comments in other conversations, to make it look like he was just another member of the site, while he waited for Percival to ask if anyone had an original Isaacson duet.

He played all afternoon; after he’d put the cello away, he got out a couple of cookbooks and browsed through them, looking for something to make for dinner. He’d chosen a green curry with vegetables and was getting his cutting board out when his phone rang.

Ethan.

Scott berated himself for the skip in his heartbeat and answered. “Hello?”

“Hey.” Ethan sounded subdued. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.”

Scott tried to sound nonchalant. “It’s okay. I’ve been pretty busy this week. How are you?”

“I’m good. I wondered if you’re free for dinner tomorrow evening.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m not.” Scott had made arrangements with the friends he’d been out with on Wednesday to go out again on Friday. After not hearing from Ethan for five days, he wasn’t about to break those plans. “I was about to cook dinner now, if you’d like to come over.”

“Oh. No, I can’t tonight. My new boss is having me to dinner.” Ethan did sound regretful.

“Ah - in that case, how about Saturday?”

“Saturday would work, sure.” Ethan seemed to have perked up a bit. “What have you been up to?”

Scott didn’t want to tell Ethan that he’d talked to Jamie. “I had errands to run on Monday -” true - “and Tuesday I took my friend Verna to dinner. She’s one of the other Philharmonic cellists. Yesterday was grocery shopping, and today I spent the entire morning at a bookstore.”

Ethan laughed. “Words to warm the heart of an English professor.”

“You’ll have to check that place out. It’s not far from you.”

“I will. Do you socialize with your fellow Philharmonicans a lot?”

“Not in the summer, no. Most everyone’s out of town at festivals or solo tours or just vacation. Verna let me borrow a piece of music, so I bought her dinner to say thank you.”

Ethan’s voice held surprise. “Just for borrowing some music?”

“Oh - well - not just borrowing it. It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got a few minutes before I have to leave.”

Scott hesitated. He had no idea how Ethan would react to the news that Scott was cooperating with the police - but if he blew up over it, that would be telling. “Okay - this started the weekend before I met you.” He quickly told Ethan the story. “So there was a small chance that Verna’s score might get damaged. I figured that was worth a dinner.”

Ethan had listened in what seemed to be stunned silence. He said, “The
score
might get damaged?
You
might get damaged. What about
that?
”

“The police were right next to me, within arm’s reach. I wasn’t in any danger.”

Ethan barked a laugh. “You think you’re not in any danger from Kevin Brodie?”

“Kevin wasn’t there, it was his partner and his supervisor. Besides, Kevin and I have gotten along better than I expected. He’s mellowed.”

“Why wouldn’t Jamie have said anything about this to me?”

What??
“When have you talked to Jamie?”

“A couple of times, last week. He never mentioned any of this.”

“Why would he? He’s barely involved in it, and it’s police business. I probably shouldn’t have told you myself. Why were you talking to Jamie?”

Ethan sounded exasperated. “I thought I owed it to him to let him know that I was in LA. Then I tried to tell him that you and I had met, but he was out of town.”

“Well, he knows now. I told him when I saw him on Monday.”

“What did he say?”

“He said you know Hugo Boss from Tom Ford.”

Silence - then Ethan snorted. “That’s true. Listen, I’ve got to go. But I have to tell you, I think this involvement with the cops is a really bad idea.”

“It’ll be over soon. Enjoy your evening.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Ethan hung up.

Scott scowled at his phone for a minute, then turned back to his cutting board.