The Hired Man (36 page)

“So, when you heard of Stuart Anderson's death…?” I prompted.

“Both Gary and I were heartsick!” she said. “We realized immediately it would be very likely the police would find out about ModelMen. Gary had been the last person to speak with Stuart; the police's assumption he might be responsible was axiomatic. That Gary's disagreement with Matt, which happened
after
he spoke with Stuart, was the only reason he left earlier than he'd intended would mean nothing to the police. And since I hadn't looked at the clock when Gary left, I can't say for sure it
wasn't
nearly the time I told them.”

She fell silent, and I joined her in it for a few minutes, realizing she wasn't going to like my next question.

“Is it at all possible Mr. Anderson might have asked Gary to take Phil's place for the night?”

She sat upright as though she'd been slapped.

“Impossible!” she said. “I asked Stuart if he wanted another escort, and he said no. If he'd wanted Gary's company, he certainly would have asked for it. And Gary would never make arrangements with a client without clearing it through me. Never.”

Unless he knew you'd never find out about it from Anderson,
I thought.

Seeing how upset I'd made her, I decided it was time for a diplomatic withdrawal.

“Well, thank you for your time and honesty, Mrs. Glick. I really didn't mean to upset you, but I'm sure you understand that, in order for us to help Gary, we can't afford to be taken by surprise by something the police may come up with.”

She nodded then rose with me and walked me to the door of the living room.

“Gary did
not
do this, Mr. Hardesty,” she said emphatically. “I know my son.”

Ya think?
my mind asked, rather sadly.

Chapter 15

I parked in the underground garage at Warman Park at 12:15 and emerged to find a thick cloud cover had rolled in and it looked like it might pour at any second. We hadn't made any contingency plans for meeting anywhere else, and I didn't have a raincoat or umbrella with me, so all I could do was hope for the best. The usual picnickers and book readers and fountain sitters had more or less disappeared in anticipation of the rain.

Sure enough, it started to sprinkle, and I moved to the cover of a large elm just opposite where we customarily met. I could hear the rain hitting the leaves above me, so I stood with my back against the trunk debating whether I should stay or make a run for the parking garage entrance about 200 feet away. I was just opting for the latter when I saw a familiar form come sprinting down the walkway toward the fountain, followed by a curtain of heavier rain.

He saw me, motioned toward the garage entrance, and kept running. I joined him, and we hit the doorway just as the rain became a downpour.

“Good timing,” I said as we stood behind the heavy glass doors and watched the machine-gunned raindrops ricocheting off the sidewalk. It showed no signs of being merely a passing shower, so I said, “You want to come down to my car? We can talk there, and I can give you a ride back to headquarters when we're done.”

“Sure,” he said, and we turned and went down the stairs.

He was slightly in front of me, and I had a chance to see him from, literally, a different angle than usual. He was in civvies, and I sure liked the way he moved.

Oh, fer chrissakes, Hardesty!
my mind snapped.
He's straight! Get used to it!

We found my car, and being the gentleman that I am, I opened his side first then moved around to the driver's side as he leaned across the seat to unlatch the lock from inside.

“So,” I said when we'd settled in, “what's new?”

“We're going to arrest Matt Rushmore.” he said.

“For…?” I asked, thinking
Didn't we just play this game with Gary?

“For the murders of Stuart Anderson, Billy Steiner, and Laurie Travers.”

“Based on what?”

Richman moved around so he could better face me, one shoulder resting against the door, the other against the back of his seat.

“Based on his interview, his having no credible alibis for any of the murders, and the fact that the knife box, even though it was found behind Gary Bancroft's apartment building, had no fingerprints on it. We think Rushmore planted it there.”

“And Gary's silver Porsche?”

“Good point,” he said, “but Bancroft swears Rushmore's been following him―some ‘jealous lover' business, I gather. He figures Rushmore saw him drop Laurie off, picked her up himself, and did her in.

“We've been spending a lot of time interviewing the regulars who hang around Cole and Prentice, where Bancroft claims he let Laurie Travers―he did identify her from her picture, by the way―out of the car, and we found a bag lady who thinks she saw a woman get out of a light-colored car at about that same time.”

“And did she see anybody else pick Laurie up?”

He hesitated for a moment.

“Well, no, but…”

Gee, a hooker getting out of a “light-colored car” on a corner near a coffee shop frequented by hookers. Bet that doesn't happen often,
I thought.

I shook my head. “That hardly seems like a steel-clad case,” I said, and Richman, watching me as always, gave a little smile.

“True,” he said. “From what we can tell, the weapon used to kill Stuart Anderson is still being carried around between the legs of his killer. But we have the murder weapon for Laurie Travers, and all we needed was the pillow that suffocated Billy Steiner. The pillows we took from Bancroft's apartment were filled with goose feathers…eiderdown.

“That, no fingerprints on the knife case or the murder weapon, and what Bancroft had to say about his…ex-friend…pointed us toward a set-up by Rushmore. We were able to get a search warrant for his apartment early this morning to get his pillows, and guess what? It looks like they're filled with eiderdown.”

“How in the hell can you tell the difference?” I asked. “Feathers are feathers.”

He smiled again. “Not quite. Eiderdown is distinctive in several regards, including a predominance of black-and-white feathers. The lab is making the final analysis now.”

“But you haven't arrested him yet?”

He looked at me without expression for a full minute, then said, “No. If the lab says it's definitely eiderdown, we'll formally arrest him then. I thought you might want the chance to talk to him first, to see if you can pick up on anything that might let us cement the case.”

I rolled down my window about halfway―it was getting uncomfortable in that car, in more ways than one. Having rolled it down, I turned back to the good lieutenant.

“I'm afraid I don't like this, Lieutenant. I'm not a police informant, or some snitch.” I was really surprised at how strongly I felt about being used by the police department. Richman could have unzipped his fly right then and offered me unlimited sex in exchange, and I'd still have said no―which gives you an idea of just
how
strongly I felt.

Lt. Richman just looked at me, and the corners of his mouth curved up just the slightest bit.

“No,” he said, “you're not a police informant, and you're not a snitch. What you
are
is a private investigator who doesn't want to see a guilty man go free, or an innocent one go to prison.

“The fact is that, right now, we don't know for sure what the hell to believe. Is Bancroft setting Rushmore up? Is Rushmore setting Bancroft up? You know these guys one hell of a lot better than we do; you can see things we can't. That's all I…we…want—the truth.”

I managed to calm down as he talked. He was right, of course.

“And let me ask you,” he said calmly. “What were you were intending to do if…or let's make that when…you do figure out who did it? Wrestle them to the ground? The police have to come into it at some point.

“Now, let me turn the tables on you a little, and use one of your favorite arguments. If you want us to take over the whole case from this point on, fine. We can and we will. You can just walk away. But I think I know you well enough by now to know you could never do that. And we both know you have a better chance of bringing this to a head quicker than we do, and you can see things we can't when it comes to the gay community.”

I gave a deep sigh and nodded.

“So, what do you want from me?”

Richman returned the nod.

“First, I…we…don't want you to do anything stupid. No heroics. Just remember the guy we're after kills people. When you're really sure which one of these guys did it―or even if you're sure
neither
one of them did it―you just give me a call and let us take it from there. Agreed?”

It was with a surprising degree of effort I managed to say, “Yeah.”

“Good.” he said, and smiled. Then he did something that
really
surprised me. He reached out with his left hand and slapped my right leg lightly. In almost any other situation, my crotch would be yelling “Whoopee!” but not now. It was a pat on the leg. Period.

But my little inner voice still managed to say
Damn!

We'd said just about all there was to say, so after a minute or two of relative silence, I asked if he wanted me to drive him the two blocks back to headquarters, and he said yes.

*

I decided to call Matt from the office―I wanted to check for messages anyway, and when I did, I found one from Jared.

“Hi, Dick—Jared. Sorry I've been missing you, but I've been really…busy. I'm on my lunch break, but I'll give you a call at home as soon as I get off work, okay? See ya.”

Nothing from the Glicks. Nothing from Gary. Nothing from Phil or Tim, but I put two and two together on that one.

I had no idea whether Matt might be home or not, but I gave it a try and was surprised when he answered on the first ring.

“Matt—Dick. Just thought I'd check in and see how things were going.”

“They searched the place,” he said.

I didn't tell him I knew.

“And?” I said.

“They took my pillows. My fucking
pillows
! And I just figured out why! What a fucking idiot!”

“You want to talk about it in person?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I think I'm going to go over and have a talk with Gary.”

I didn't like the tone of his voice, and I definitely didn't like the implication.

“Hold on a second,” I said. “That's a really bad idea, and you know it. Why don't you let me come over, and we can talk about it? I can be there in less than fifteen minutes. Can you hold off that long?”

There was a moment of silence, then: “Yeah, I guess so. But I'm not making any promises after that.”

“Good,” I said. “That's all I can ask. Just try to calm down, and I'll be right over. Stay there.”

“You better make it fast.”

I was halfway around my desk heading for the door as I hung up.

*

Matt had the door open by the time I reached his apartment after ringing the buzzer. He motioned me in with a jerk of his head. He looked really pissed.

“He's done it this time,” he said, his voice a study in barely-controlled anger.

“Okay, so tell me about it.” He led the way to the couch, and I sat down. He started to sit but apparently changed his mind and walked to the window, looked out for no reason I could tell, and walked back again. He just stood there, his hands on the back of the chair in front of me.

“When Gary moved out of here and into his new place,” he said, first taking the time to light a cigarette and offer me one (I was tempted but declined), “he left most of the furniture. None of it was good enough for his new place. He conned Iris into buying most of what he needed, including a fancy new bedroom set.” He looked at me and almost smiled, but not quite. “That woman is on one enormous guilt trip, and Gary milks it for every penny he can get.

“So, then, the day after the Gay Pride parade, he calls me up and says he wants to come over to pick up some stuff he left. Asks if he can trade me for the pillows off our bed, bitches because the ones he bought are too damned soft. He knows I always thought the ones we had were like rocks, so I said okay. I knew fucking-A well that he was going to try to…”

He paused, took a long drag off his cigarette, and stubbed it out quickly in one of the several ashtrays on the lamp table beside him. He never finished his sentence, and I found that fact more than a little intriguing.
Try to what?
But I decided to let him continue, and ask questions later.

Even though he'd only halfway smoked the last cigarette before putting it out, he lit another.

“Anyway, he comes over with a suitcase and these two huge pillows and starts looking around in the closets for a couple shirts and stuff he'd left. He asked me for some coffee, so I went into the kitchen to make it. I don't know what all he took, if anything.