Stripped Bare (21 page)

In the study, Matthew was muttering to himself and opening every cupboard and drawer in search of the elusive box of “stuff” he’d received when Erich had died. He remembered a small box of documents and assorted items that he’d always meant to look through but always put off for another day. As he opened the sideboard and pulled out some old Christmas ornaments and a pile of old newspaper clippings for God knows what, he exclaimed in triumph at seeing the box he wanted at the back of the cupboard. He reached in and drew it out, pushing all the other stuff back in and closing the cupboard.

“Eureka,” he muttered. He sat down at his desk and adjusted the gooseneck lamp. He’d just see what was in here, give it a quick run-over then he supposed he’d better get into bed.

An hour later he was still sorting through the papers. He picked up a DVD lying at the bottom of the box and flipped it over with a frown. There was some writing on the one side. “Mona’s Attack.” Matthew was puzzled.

Mona’s Attack? What the hell was that all about?

The name Mona sounded vaguely familiar. He slid the DVD into his player, switched on the small screen LCD TV and sat back to watch. There were no opening credits or sound, just a grainy picture of what looked like a rather swanky bedroom. The angle seemed to be played from a high spot in the corner of the room. Matthew guessed it was a hidden camera, placed in an air vent or perhaps the top of a picture. The room had plenty of artwork on the walls.

Matthew leaned forward. A door opened and a woman came in, tall and beautiful, with long red hair and a low-cut top displaying two rather large, perky breasts. Matthew thought she looked familiar.

A man followed her, a stout figure, stumbling and lurching, looking very drunk. Matthew’s stomach lurched as he recognized Walter Debussy, who reached out and grabbed the woman, jerking her towards him roughly as he kissed her.

Christ, whoever she was, she certainly wasn’t Linda, Walter’s late wife!

He peered at the date stamp in the lower left corner. It was dated 10 October 2009, the day before his father’s death. Matthew had a premonition of dread and his blood ran cold as he focused on the events playing out on the small screen.

Walter was getting rougher with the woman, his hands pawing at her breasts. She was trying to calm him down. It seemed to work. She turned to the bed as she got undressed. Walter had pulled off his shirt, his hands fumbling with his trousers.

The woman turned to face him in her scanty underwear. Matthew gasped when he saw the bulge at the woman’s crotch. Now he remembered where he’d seen her before. Mona Casales, a.k.a. Manuel Casales, was a transsexual his father had helped with a child custody battle.

Walter went still, then moved toward the woman swiftly. Mona stepped back, her hand raised in front of her. She seemed to be pleading with Walter. From what he could see, Walter had not been aware the woman he’d just kissed was actually a man. Given Walter’s homophobic tendencies, Matthew held his breath, knowing the scene would certainly get ugly.

Walter must indeed have been very drunk to get this far along in the game. Matthew heaved a gasp of horror as Walter struck Mona in the face with a great deal of force. The blow propelled her backwards onto the floor.

Matthew glanced back at his study door, to make sure David wasn’t standing there. Walter might be a total bastard, but he was still David’s father. Matthew breathed a sigh of relief before turning back to watch the drama on his TV.

His fists were clenched in impotent fury as the man laid into the woman now lying on the floor, kicking her savagely. Mona tried to crawl away. Walter continued to lash out. He kicked her full in the face, causing her head to snap back. Then he reached down and pulled her to her feet roughly, holding her up with one hand and pummelling her face with the other, his face twisted in sheer rage.

The attack on Mona seemed to go on for ages but when Matthew drew a breath and looked at the video display only five minutes had passed. Walter was getting dressed now, putting his shirt back on, gesticulating wildly at Mona, battered and curled up in a foetal position on the bed. Her face wet with blood, she looked badly hurt.

Walter finished dressing and approached the bed. Mona cowered back. He reached down and twisted her hair in his hands, pulling her upward. He delivered another vicious slap to her cheek and her head flew to the side. Then, his rage seemly spent, he let her go and turned to walk out of the door without a second glance.

Matthew felt sick to his stomach at the acts of violence and a surging fury that Walter could do this and get away with it.

How could his father not have done something about it, given the evidence he had in his possession? That thought made him feel even sicker.

He switched off the DVD player, removed the disc and was about to place it back in the box when he saw a stamped envelope at the bottom of the box with his name and address on it. His father had obviously intended posting it to him. He reached for it with a trembling hand, and opened the envelope. It contained a sheet of paper with his father’s distinctive handwriting and another DVD. He could almost hear his father’s soft Teutonic accent as he read.

Matthias,

Son, I intend convincing Mona to go to the police with this evidence and lay a charge against Walter. Mona told me about the video recordings she made for her clients and I went and retrieved it. I have contacted Walter and told him I know about this incident. As you can imagine he is not a happy man, but I have to do the right thing. I also told Walter that I had made a copy of the video and intend sending it to you. Put it in a safe place. This is our little bit of extra insurance, Matty. I do not think I have put you in any danger, and it will all be over soon anyway

Your loving father, Erich Langer.

Emotion welled up inside Matthew. His father was speaking to him from beyond the grave. He felt the slow burn of tears at the back of his eyes and his throat closed up, his chest tightening in sheer grief at his father’s voice in his head.

He wondered what had happened to Mona. If she’d laid a charge surely Matthew would have known about it.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and lifted his mobile from the desk with a shaking hand, dialling a number.

It rang three times before Shane’s sleepy voice answered. “Matty? Are you okay?”

Matthew felt a wave of relief at hearing Shane’s voice. “Shay, can you come over to my place? I know it’s late—” Matthew’s voice choked up and he closed his eyes in sheer weariness.

“Matty, of course. Are you okay, baby? You sound upset.”

“I need you,” Matthew whispered. “Please get here as soon as you can.” He gave Shane the address.

There was a quiet pause. “I’m on my way.”

The call was disconnected and Matthew leaned back in his desk chair, closing his eyes and struggling to breathe evenly and get his feelings to subside. He sat back and tried to clear his mind, listening to the faint street sounds outside. It was almost one thirty in the morning and he was bone tired.

The ringing of his mobile on the desk woke him up. He started, feeling disoriented as the phone buzzed and played “Gold on the Ceiling” by the Black Keys. It was Shane. He picked up, wincing at the muscles in his back protesting at the way he’d been dozing in his chair.

“Shane?”

“Do you mind opening the bloody door?” Shane’s voice held a trace of irritation. He also sounded out of breath. “I’ve been knocking, as I didn’t want to use the doorbell and wake David up. I imagined he was sleeping.”

“Christ, of course. Hang on a minute.” Matthew cut the call and moved out to the hallway. He could see the outline of someone out there and he unlocked the door. Shane stood there, sweaty, hair mussed, in a track suit and running shoes. Matthew’s heart fell.

“Shane, you didn’t run all the way here did you?” He stood aside to let the other man in. Shane stepped into the hallway, out of breath.

“Matty, it was one thirty in the morning when you called. No car, no taxis, no tubes. How else was I going to get here?”

Matthew felt this was quite a surreal conversation. The man standing in front of him was a multimillionaire and could have bought his own taxi firm to be at his beck and call, yet he still ran when he needed to get somewhere in a hurry. It was a testament to Shane’s complete lack of desire to material things and wealth that made him all the more special. Matthew closed the door.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I shouldn’t have called you.”

Shane leaned over and pulled Matthew into his arms, his strength and warmth making Matthew feel at ease.

“Babe, you call me all upset and say you need me. I would have run twice the distance just to get here for you, to hear you say that.” He cupped Matthew’s face in his hands and kissed him on the lips. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Matthew drew him into the dimly lit lounge and filled Shane on in everything he’d found out since opening the cardboard box his father had left him.

“My father died before he could mail this to me,” he said as Shane watched him in sympathy. “The letter is dated the day before his death.” His face shadowed. “It seems a bit of a coincidence that he had a heart attack around the same time. Perhaps the stress of all this had something to do with it. I think this is what Walter was talking about when he thought I had something on him.”

Matthew drew a deep breath when he explained who Mona was. “As Manuel, he had a daughter with a woman who was trying to keep the child away from him due to his, according to her, ‘perverted sexual deviance.’ He was undergoing medical treatment to change his gender. But Manuel had been a good father. Dad was never one to judge someone on their sexual proclivities.” He smiled in fondness. “I’m a case in point. Dad met Manuel via one of the shelters and learned about his problem with his daughter. He helped build a case where at least the man could have visitation rights. I met him as Mona a few times at Dad’s office. She was a high-class call girl from what I recall.”

Shane made the occasional comment but otherwise simply listened to what his lover was telling him. When Matthew was finally spent, he sat back on the couch with a wide yawn.

“I just needed to tell you all this, Shay. Seeing my father’s writing, hearing his voice in my head as I read his letter—I wanted you here with me.”

Shane kissed him. “I’m glad you called me.” He rubbed his thumb across his lover’s hand. “That’s one helluva story. But it clears up that little mystery of what Walter thought you had over him and confirms what a bloody bastard he is.” He looked at his boyfriend. “It’s too late now to do anything for Mona. But you can do something for David.”

“What do you mean?” Matthew yawned again, feeling his eyes closing.

“You can use this against him and tell that prick Debussy that unless he reinstates David’s funds, you’ll give the video footage to the police, go the newspapers, tell the TV stations. He has no choice but to do what you tell him.”

Matthew opened his eyes. “God, I wouldn’t want you as an enemy. You always cut straight to the marrow, don’t you? Maybe we can talk about it in the morning. For now, I just want to go to bed. I have a bloody board meeting in six hours and I look and feel like shit.” He stood up and stretched. Shane remained where he was, looking unsure what to do. He looked around the lounge.

“You have a lovely home here, Matty. I assume the man in the pictures is Sam?” His face was non-committal.

Matthew could see the faint pulse in his throat and the shadow in his eyes and felt a surge of guilt. He hadn’t even thought about what Shane might see when he got here. The house was still full of his late husband.

“Yes, it’s Sam. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about all of this,” he waved a hand around the room. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to see you. In hindsight it was a crap idea.”

His boyfriend shook his head. “It’s okay. I know it was a spur of the moment thing.” He stood up. “I don’t want to run all the way home so would it be all right if I stayed here on the couch? Or in a spare bedroom, if you have another one. I don’t want to share with David. The man might rape me while I sleep.” He grinned.

“No. No couch and no spare room.” Matthew’s voice was firm, but he was quaking inside at what he was about to do.

Shane’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. I’ll suppose I’ll start walking then.” His voice was tight.

Matthew drew a deep breath and reached out a hand and took his lover’s. “Don’t be an idiot. You sleep with me, in my bedroom.” He felt a shift inside at his own words, at the impact of them.

He’d never had another man in his house since Sam died, let alone his bed. But this felt right. This was a man who’d just run two miles in the early morning just to be with him. He hadn’t even known the reason why, just that Matthew needed him. A man who was quite prepared not to cause a scene and walk two miles home just to placate him and give him “space.” He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such sacrifice, and he was humbled by it. The least he could do was invite him into his bed. Matthew desperately wanted to feel Shane close to him tonight.

Shane took a deep breath and stared at him with his incredible eyes. “Are you sure, Matty? I wasn’t going to presume anything—”

Matthew nodded. “I’m sure. Come on, lover, follow me. And there’ll be no hanky-panky tonight, get it? I need some sleep and I don’t need your incredible attractions distracting me.”

Shane followed Matthew out of the room. “I hear you. But I can’t promise anything. Once I get close to you, you know that’s it for me. I’m toast.”

Matthew could hear the grin in his lover’s voice. “I mean it. Please leave me alone or I’ll be a total wreck at the board meeting.”

Shane chortled. “That’s the first time I’ve ever had a man beg me to leave him alone. The first time we met, you begged me to kiss you, remember?”

“I remember,” Matthew smiled at the memory of that scorching kiss as he reached the bedroom and pushed open the door. He paused as the reality of the moment hit him. He was finally having another man share the bed he had last slept in with Sam. Then he pushed past his trepidation and waved at the space. “Bed, bathroom over there in the corner. I sleep on the right side. I’m going to brush my teeth. I have a spare toothbrush if you want it. I’ll leave it out for you.” He disappeared into the bathroom.