The Paper Mirror (7 page)

We talked for a while longer, but I felt I had gotten what I needed to know for the moment.

“Oh,” I said in afterthought, “would you happen to have both Taylor’s and Dave Witherspoon’s phone numbers? I think I’d like to talk with Taylor’s roommate, and definitely with Witherspoon.”

“They should be right here,” he said, opening a side drawer in his desk and bringing out a small metal box filled with 3x5 cards. Flipping through them expertly, he paused at two cards long enough to write something on the notepad in front of him, then tore off the top sheet of the pad, tapped the tops of the 3x5 cards to get them all even, closed the lid of the box, and slid the torn-off piece of paper across the desk to me. “Here you are,” he said.

I folded the paper and put it in my shirt pocket. “Well, thank you again for your time and your help,” I said. “I’ll let you get back to work now.”

He gave me a small smile. “Yes, there is a lot to do.”

We shook hands, and I left.

*

When I got home from work, Jonathan seemed to be in a particularly happy mood. He and Joshua were just finishing up their feeding-of-the-fish ritual. I hadn’t really expected Joshua’s two little fish to have survived as long as they had, due to Joshua’s firm belief that if a little food was good for them, a lot was better. But Jonathan had gotten him slowly used to the idea that goldfish do not require quite the same amount of food as a great white shark.

After our group hug, Joshua went running off in pursuit of whatever it is four-year-old boys always seem to find to pursue, and I followed Jonathan into the kitchen to fix my evening Manhattan.

“So what’s up?” I asked him as I took a glass from the cupboard and he opened the refrigerator for his Coke and some ice cubes.

“Guess what happened today?” he asked, answering a question with a question.

“Something good, obviously,” I said, and he grinned broadly.

“Yeah! I was out on a job, and when I got back, my boss told me he’d gotten a call from Evan Knight, who wants his whole yard landscaped, and he mentioned that I had referred him to Evergreen! The boss was really impressed.”

I doubted the boss had any idea who Evan Knight was, but the prospect of a full yard-landscaping project in the Briarwood area would undoubtedly be profitable.

I was happy for Jonathan’s boss. I was happy for Jonathan getting the credit for bringing in new business. I was not, however, particularly happy with the possibility of Jonathan being drawn any closer to Evan Knight’s little web.

“That’s great, Babe,” I said. “Will you be working on the job?”

I realized that last question was my Scorpio side raising its ugly head.

“I hope so,” Jonathan said. “I’d really like to see where Mr. Knight lives. My boss is going over there tomorrow morning to talk to him about what he’ll want done, and to give him an estimate. I hope we get the job.”

Oh, I’m pretty sure you will,
my Scorpio said. Damn it, why the hell was I being jealous? I had no reason to be. Except that I’d met people like Evan Knight before, and I know the games they like to play with people like Jonathan, who tend to take everyone at face value and are sometimes way too trusting. But I realized at the same time that I had too strong a tendency, sometimes, to treat Jonathan too much like a kid who needed constant protection. He was an adult, and he didn’t need me hovering over him all the time.

Yeah,
a mind-voice reluctantly agreed.
Still….

*

I was a few minutes late getting to work the next morning, thanks to Joshua somehow managing to slosh an entire bowl of cereal and milk over himself at breakfast. So while Jonathan cleaned up Joshua and changed his clothes, I cleaned up the kitchen. Kids can be a real joy sometimes. This was not one of them.

Once at work, I waited until I’d gone through my morning coffee/newspaper/crossword puzzle ritual before calling Dave Witherspoon. I hoped to get a little better idea of what kind of guy Taylor Cates really was, even though I was quite sure that under the circumstances what he had to say would probably be less than flattering. And while I sincerely doubted that Taylor’s having gotten Dave fired would be enough reason to kill, stranger things have happened, and it was always wise to check out every possibility.

And speaking of possibilities, it was still a very real possibility that Taylor Cates had, for whatever reason, simply fallen down the steps.

Uh huh,
a mind-voice said. I determined to give Tim Jackson a call. Since he worked at the coroner’s office, he may be able to tell me a little more about the actual cause of Taylor’s death. But that would have to wait until I got home.

I dialed Dave Witherspoon’s number, and considering that it was by now nearly nine thirty, I was not overly surprised to get an answering machine. Witherspoon may have already found another job and was at work—though there aren’t that many libraries in the area, and even fewer research libraries—or he was out looking for work. I left my name and work number. If I didn’t hear from him by the time I was ready to go home, I’d call again and leave my home number, too.

Part of me wanted to talk to Evan Knight next, but the rest of me suggested that it might be best to hold him until last. On the one hand, I didn’t want to be influenced by these little games I suspected he might be playing with Jonathan, and I needed some time to regain my objectivity. On the other hand, of course, waiting would allow me to see how this landscaping gambit—if it was indeed a gambit, as I suspected it was—played out.

And okay, I admit it, if Jonathan was going to be working in close proximity to Knight, I wanted to keep Knight reminded that I was in the picture.

You’re really weird, Hardesty
, an unidentified mind-voice observed.

Guilty as charged
.

I decided to go with the least-most-likely-involved board members first, to see if they might by chance have any idea at all of what was going on. It was really unlikely, I knew, but I couldn’t afford to overlook anyone or anything. I decided to start with Thomas McNabb, the realtor.

When I did call, I was informed that he was out of the office showing a property, but would return my call as soon as possible. I left my name and number, and hung up. I thought it interesting that someone who headed one of the city’s larger real estate organizations would still be going out and showing properties himself. But then I realized that might be one of the reasons his company got so big in the first place.

Rather than wait for him to return my call, I next tried William Pearson’s number. I was a bit surprised when he answered the phone himself.

“William Pearson.”

“Mr. Pearson, this is Dick Hardesty, of Hardesty Investigations. Glen O’Banyon gave me your number.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Hardesty. I was rather expecting your call. I gather you’ve agreed to look into this…unfortunate incident at the Burrows?”

“Yes,” I replied, “and I was wondering if there might be anything you could tell me about Taylor Cates or the Collection that might have some bearing on my investigation.”

There was a slight pause, then, “I’m afraid I really can’t be of much help as far as the Collection is concerned. I don’t have very much direct contact with the day-to-day operations of the library. I did know Taylor Cates, though not all that well. He was a weekend bartender at Steamroller Junction from the time it opened until about three months ago.”

Steamroller Junction was one of the biggest and most popular of the gay dance bars, though the last time I’d been there was, in fact, on its opening night, not too long after Jonathan and I got together. I’m not big on huge crowds or noise, and Steamroller Junction had both.

“Did you happen to know anything at all about his personal life?”

Another brief pause. “No, I’m afraid not. He was personally recommended to me by someone whose opinion I respect. Usually, I’m not all that directly involved with the staff of my various businesses—unfortunately, there just isn’t time to know everyone. I do know the manager subsequently thought very highly of him, too, and that he apparently never missed a shift. I wish I had more employees like that. Teddy had told me Taylor was a college student at the time, but had no idea he was working for the Burrows until the night of the…accident.”

“Teddy?” I asked, the name striking a bell.

“Teddy Wilson, one of the performers who’s worked in several of my clubs over the years. He goes by the name of Tondelaya O’Tool. Maybe you’ve seen one of his shows.”

Teddy! T/T! One of the best drag queens in the business! Well, well, what a small world!

“Of course I know Teddy,” I said. “He’s fantastic. I last saw him at the opening of Steamroller Junction, as a matter of fact.”

“He’ll be back in town in two weeks for a benefit for the Hospice Project. He’s performing in Atlanta now, but when he heard of the benefit he wanted to be part of it. There aren’t many people like Teddy around these days.”

“Indeed there aren’t,” I said. “I’ll definitely be there.”

“Well, I’d advise you to get your tickets in advance. It’s going to be a sold-out event. We’ll have a full-page ad for it in this week’s
Rainbow Flag
, and the box office will be open every day starting Monday.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I said. “Thanks for the heads up.”

Okay, Hardesty…first things first,
my mind-voice said.
Taylor Cates, remember?

It was right, of course, so I pulled myself back to the moment. “Do you happen to know how Teddy and Taylor Cates knew one another?”

Pearson paused a moment, then, “I don’t know how well you might know Teddy,” he said, “but as I say, he’s truly one of a kind…he’s got a heart as big as all outdoors. As I recall, Teddy told me that Taylor had lived next door to him as a kid, and really looked up to him. In those days, Teddy didn’t have many people looking up to him. He never forgot it. And apparently they stayed close over the years. When Teddy called a day or so after the accident to discuss some details of the benefit, I mentioned to him that Taylor was dead. He hadn’t heard, and it seemed to really hit him hard.”

“Do you have any reason to think Taylor’s death might not have been accidental?” I asked, getting to the core of my call.

I could almost see him shaking his head. “None at all. But Irving McGill and Glen O’Banyon apparently had sufficient concerns to convince me to agree to have it looked into. We certainly can’t afford even the hint of a scandal.”

I didn’t see any particular point to setting up a face-to-face meeting, based on our phone conversation, but I gave him my phone number and asked him to please call me if he remembered or thought of anything that might be pertinent. He agreed, I thanked him for his time, and we exchanged good-byes and hung up.

The fact that he had some dealings with Taylor Cates, however peripheral, might warrant a follow up later, depending on what more I might find out about Cates’ life. And that Teddy Wilson…T/T as I always called him…had known Taylor definitely warranted a follow-up. Besides, it would be great to see T/T again.

I got out the piece of paper on which I’d written down Cates’ phone number, picked up the phone, and dialed.

It rang four times, then, “Hi. I’m not in right now, but please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

Never having heard Taylor Cates’ voice, I didn’t know if the voice was his or his roommate’s.

“Hi,” I said. “My name is Dick Hardesty, and I was hoping to speak to someone about Taylor Cates. I’d appreciate it if you could give me a call sometime either today or tomorrow—Thursday—at my office.” I left my number, and hung up.

Within ten minutes, the phone rang.

Busy day
, I thought as I picked up the phone.

“Hardesty Investigations,” I said.

“Dick! This is Tom McNabb, returning your call. Sorry I wasn’t in when you called earlier.” The voice was warm, friendly, and reminded me of the phrase “hale-fellows-well-met.”

Considering that we had never met, the first-name familiarity threw me off for a second. I suppose he probably tailored his personality to fit his perception of the people he was dealing with—which again may be one of the reasons he’d become so successful.

“I appreciate your calling,” I said, avoiding using either “Tom”…with which I’d feel a little uncomfortable since I didn’t know him (call me old-fashioned)…or “Mr. McNabb” which might seem a little awkward since he’d called me “Dick.”

Get on with it, Hardesty
, one of my mind-voices said impatiently.

“I was wondering,” I continued, “if you might have any information about the incident at the Burrows’ opening involving Taylor Cates’ death.”

There was only the slightest of pauses, then, “I’m afraid not. Evan Knight introduced us, once, and I had seen Taylor a couple of times shortly before the opening when I had occasion to be at the library, but that was it. His death was a real shame, though, and especially so that it had to happen at the Burrows.”

Well, I hadn’t really expected that he’d be able to shed much light on the matter, but I found the fact that Evan Knight had introduced him to be most interesting. “You say Evan Knight introduced you to Taylor…at the library, I assume?”

“No,” McNabb replied, “I was out to dinner one evening about three months ago and ran into Evan at the restaurant. Taylor was with him.”