Lethal Attachments

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Doyle

“My office would be a better—”

“I apologize for coming to your home, really. I didn’t know what else to do and I was here…and…Please hear me out. I’m sorry for waking you, Mr. M-McCann. But I may be in trouble and I need help.” This time he managed a sad, lopsided smile which Doyle found appealing. But he knew there was something else behind that expression.

“How’d you get into the building? Didn’t someone at the front desk stop you?”

“No, I mean, they didn’t have to. Stop me, that is.”

“Oh? And why’s that?” Doyle was angrily curious. It almost made him forget that Kord wasn’t there to back him up. Not that he couldn’t handle this twink on his own

“B-because I’m visiting a new friend who lives here. On—on the tenth floor.”

“Did you lose your way? This is the thirty-first floor.” Doyle pulled the silk robe tighter around his body, which only emphasized his contours rather than hide them, he realized. The silk rubbing up against his flesh was arousing despite the chilly air wafting in from the hall. He wanted to go back to his warm cozy bed. But he had to admit there was something titillating about standing nearly naked in front of this young, pretty twink perched in his doorway.

“Lose my—oh. You’re joking.” The signs of panic in his face began to recede. But only a little. “No. Not lost. I want to be here.” His voice was sad and low.

“Don’t you think you coulda called first?”

“I’m really sorry. But this is important and I need you.”

Doyle’s thick dark eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You need me?”

“Y-yes. I—that is, they…Oh, everything’s falling apart. If only he hadn’t left. But he did. And that’s the problem and I just know they’re going to want to arrest me eventually. Once they know about all this which I don’t think they do yet. But once they do, they’ll eventually get around to me. And I need to protect myself. Before that happens. You know?”

“No. No, I don’t know.” Doyle caught the general disorganized drift of the guy’s yammering. Something was wrong, somebody’d left, and this twink might possibly be arrested. Maybe. But for what? “You’ve gotta slow down.”

“Yeah…yes. I know. I’m sorry. But I can explain.” The young man stared directly into Doyle’s eyes. When Doyle didn’t budge, the man’s gaze shifted and he peered into the apartment, then his eyes shifted again and locked back onto Doyle’s eyes.

A sudden rush of cool air from the hall washed over Doyle and reminded him he was wearing next to nothing.

“C-can I come in and explain?” The young man gave Doyle a look that said he’d be willing to do more than talk if he needed to. “Please?”

Doyle looked him up and down. His tight white T-shirt and even tighter jeans couldn’t possibly conceal a weapon and didn’t hide anything else. He was also shorter and lighter than Doyle. No match for him if it came to that.

He opened the door wider so the twink—shivering either from the January chill drifting through the hall or from fear—could enter. Doyle glanced down at him as he sidled past and into the apartment.

“What’s your name?”

“Brandon. Uh, Brandon Fenner.” He pushed his glasses back up again and held out his hand to shake. “I’m so glad I found you at home. I need your help. I didn’t think it was wise to wait any longer. I’m sorry if—”

“Forget it. So, you have friends in The Filbert?” Doyle didn’t remember ever seeing this kid hanging around the building. He’d have remembered. Doyle seldom forgot a face or a cute ass.

“A few. I like the building. I was thinking about buying a condo here but I’m waiting for the right one and a price I can afford. I love the location.” He glanced around the living room.

“Where is it you live now?”

“Up near the Parkway. Nice area but a long haul into Center City, especially when it’s this cold.”

“Have a seat,” Doyle said and indicated a chair—a soft, comfy chair which he hoped would put the guy at ease and let him tell his story more freely. “Can I get you some coffee, Brandon? I haven’t had any yet and I need the caffeine.”

“Sure,” Brandon said. He paused a moment to survey the apartment before sinking into the cushy chair.

Doyle looked down at Brandon’s stylishly-cut brassy hair and his more-than-neat, tight clothing. His prim behavior and seeming trepidation made Doyle suppress a sigh. Ignoring the stirrings he felt, he quickly moved into the kitchen to get the coffee going.

As he measured out the coffee and poured the water into the coffeemaker, he hoped Kord would get back in time to help question Brandon. Maybe the guy’s case would be the beginning of a more interesting set of investigations. Maybe it would be the thing that would turn their business around.

He closed the lid on the coffeemaker and hit the switch. The machine began its soft burbling routine. Then he went about placing two mugs on a tray. The mugs clinked against one another with the homey, crockery sound Doyle loved.

“You take sugar?” Doyle called out.

“Sugar and some cream or milk. If that’s okay.”

Doyle added a bowl of sugar and a tiny pitcher of milk to the tray then carried it out. As he set the tray on the coffee table, he observed Brandon. The young visitor seemed tense but resolved. There was a toughness under the soft exterior and Doyle liked that.

“Coffee’s brewing. It’ll take a minute.”

“Th-thanks,” Brandon said. “I really appreciate this.” He straightened his glasses then ran a hand through his thick hair and peered at Doyle. “I apologize for waking you up. I’m really sorry about that. I just didn’t know where else to turn.” He stared again and there was something more than fear on his face.

The twink’s stare made Doyle glance down at himself and remember he was still wearing only the too-short silk robe. He felt himself blush uncharacteristically.

“Let me put on something more suitable.” Doyle turned to go.

“You don’t have to on my account.” He gave Doyle another of those looks then quickly added, “I mean…I don’t want to spoil your morning.”

Too late for that, Doyle thought, but said, “It’ll only take a minute.” Doyle restrained the urge to run and walked nonchalantly down the hall to his bedroom. The kid had been staring at him and he’d felt himself getting aroused every time he looked at Brandon. The silk fabric only enhanced his excitement. He needed to put on some clothes and move things to a more professional level.

When he entered the living room again, after slipping on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and flip-flops, he saw Brandon standing near the balcony doors, staring out at a wintry South Philadelphia in the distance. The guy gazed at the vast expanse between the Center City high-rises and the landscape stretching out, low-slung and steadfast. An occasional tall building had begun to change the character of that part of town, but from Doyle’s balcony, the city still appeared sleepily peaceful.

“Like the view?”

Startled, Brandon’s glasses slipped to the floor and he bent to pick them up, giving Doyle an even better view than the balcony afforded. Doyle smiled but kept staring. Brandon picked up his glasses, put them back on, and turned to Doyle. “Love it. I’d want a view like this if I buy into the building. I love your balcony. I’d be out there every day.”

“Truthfully, sometimes I forget it’s there.” Doyle wiggled his toes in his flip-flops, happy that running his own agency allowed him to wear whatever he pleased.

Before he could say more, the coffeemaker chugged and hissed, signaling the coffee was ready. Doyle retrieved the coffeepot and poured them each a cup then took a seat opposite Brandon.

The young man silently concentrated on doctoring his coffee with milk and a bit too much sugar for Doyle’s taste. Not looking up as he stirred the coffee, the twink seemed to be deciding what to say.

Doyle realized the guy needed encouraging. “How about you tell me what brought you here this morning?” After inhaling the coffee’s strong aroma, he tentatively sipped the hot liquid. Looking at his visitor, he saw that the guy had gone pale at the question. “Relax, Brandon. I’ve got to know what’s going on if you want me to help.”

Brandon held his coffee cup as if he were warming his hands. “I…this isn’t easy for me. I’m going nuts thinking they’ll be coming for me.” Placing the cup down, he added even more sugar to his coffee. Stirring the dark, steamy drink again, it seemed obvious he was giving himself a chance to think.

“Let’s start with the basics,” Doyle prompted. “Like what is it you’re going to be suspected of and how did you decide to see me about it? How’d you know I was a detective?”

“Mick. The bartender at Mame’s. He said he knew you and that you’re a nice guy and good at what you do. And since I have friends in the building, he thought that would make it easier to meet up with you. If-if I caught you at home. Mick really thinks you’re great at what you do.”

“You told him about your, uh, problem?”

“Sorta. I didn’t give him all the details but I hadda talk to somebody and I know Mick. He’s easy to talk to.”

“You mentioned being a suspect.”

“Ye…yes.”

“Well, now’s the time to let me in on what this is all about and we’ll see what we can do.”

“It’s my ex. He’s missing. For more than a week. I’ve heard that his new fiancé isn’t worried. He thinks Gary’s just off on a buying trip. At least that’s what I heard. Owen and I don’t get along. We’re not enemies or anything…well, kinda, but, you know how it is, an ex and the new guy…?”

“Sure, I get that.” Doyle sipped his coffee. “So, you want me to help find your ex? Is that it?”

“Yeah…well, not only that. Don’t you think the police are gonna consider me a suspect? I mean once they get into this?”

“Why would they consider you a person of interest?”

“Isn’t the ex-boyfriend always a suspect? And he’s my business partner, too. We own a gift shop together. I guess I forgot to say that.”

“Yeah, you did,” Doyle said. The twink was either really upset and disorganized, or he wasn’t giving Doyle the whole story. Naturally inclined to be suspicious and not knowing this twink at all, he figured the guy had to be hiding something. “What else did you forget to tell me?”

“N-nothing, I swear,” Brandon took off his glasses and peered at Doyle with brown eyes so large they made him seem like a puppy. “I’m just worried and nervous and not thinking straight.

“And you’re sure he’s missing?”

“I…well, he must be missing. He never misses work like this. Not without telling me. And he always tells me when he’s away on shop business. He’s got to be missing.”

“But no one else thinks he’s actually missing?”

“There aren’t a lot of people who’d notice that he was gone. I mean, there’s me and his fiancé, Owen. And maybe his cousin. They’re pretty friendly. There’s other family but they don’t talk to him much. He and I own the business alone so no one else would figure he’s missing.”

“Okay, let’s say he’s missing. That doesn’t necessarily mean there’s been foul play. So there can’t be any suspects unless…”

“He’s been murdered or something. Yeah, I figured that. But what if he is? I mean, lotsa times, he goes off on little buying trips and other trips that he never explains. But he tells me he’s going and how long he’ll be away…because of the business. This time there wasn’t even a text message. So, I don’t know what’s going on.”

Doyle could tell there was more to this business angle than Brandon was explaining. He stared at the twink, features soft and pink, hair in neat curls and waves, and felt himself wanting to believe whatever the kid said. Doyle slapped himself mentally and had to remind himself that being a soft touch was not a good thing for a private eye. On the other hand, a scared client wasn’t always a good source of information.

“Listen, Brandon, we’ve got to look at this realistically. If your ex is missing, that’s one thing. But you’re leaping from missing to murdered. Not sure you should go down that road yet. Let’s just consider him missing. No need to assume anything else. Unless you have some reason to believe…?” Doyle let the half-question do the work of urging Brandon to speak.

“No. No, of course not.” Brandon’s eyes went wide. “You’re right. We should just assume he’s missing. Nothing else.” He took his glasses from the table and fumbled with them. Then he went silent for a moment. Doyle could almost see his mind working furiously. He was either a good actor or he was telling the truth, at least some of it. Doyle couldn’t decide which. “But if we find him and he’s…you know…” Brandon paused, shakily put his cup to his lips, and sipped.

“Like I said, let’s not go there, Brandon.” Doyle felt the panic pouring off the guy and wondered if he was worried about more than he was letting on. Maybe he knew his ex was dead and maybe he’d done it and he was trying to pull together some kind of defense. Or, maybe he was as innocent as he looked.

“Gary…Gary Munson. That’s his name. Gary and I go back a long way, even before we were a couple for about five minutes. And even though we split up, we were still friends, and connected to the business. So, of course they’re gonna consider me…”

“A suspect?”

“Maybe not right away.” He fidgeted with the spoon. “But they’re bound to get around to me eventually. When they see that everybody else probably has an alibi.”

“Of course you’re leaping way ahead. Something has to happen at a certain time in a certain place for you to need an alibi. See what I’m getting at? How could you have an alibi if a crime hasn’t been committed for which you need an alibi?” Of course, Doyle thought, if he’s thinking alibi, maybe he knows a whole lot more than he’s telling.

“Still,” Brandon insisted. “I’m not the kind of person that usually has alibis. I didn’t know he was going to get murdered. If-if he is, you know…murdered.” He placed the coffee cup back on the tray. “Just my luck. I don’t have an alibi and he goes and gets himself killed.”

“He’s missing is all you know right now.” Or is it? Doyle thought. It wouldn’t be the first time a pretty face concealed a total liar.

“You’re right. He’s just missing. So, we’ve gotta try and find him.”

“First off, you’ve got to tell me everything. About him and you and the business. Everything. All the details, Brandon. Got it?”

“Yeah…Yes. Sure.”

“Did Gary have a middle name?” Doyle was already thinking about background checks and internet searches.

“Just Gary Munson. No middle name. He was—is—sort of a sweet, but…”

“Then how’d he get to be an ex? You don’t like sweet?”

“He’s not an easy guy in a lot of ways. And then then there’s his…Actually he’s kind of a rat, y’know?”

“No, I don’t. There are all kinds of rats.”

“He’s the cheating kind. The lying, cheating, behind-your-back-rotten-rat type of rat.”

“And yet a moment ago you said he was kinda sweet. Or did I hear wrong?”

“No…uh…yeah…Gary’s complicated. As I said, we’ve been friends for a long time and as a friend he’s cool. So, I liked him and then—after we’d been friends several years—something clicked and I began thinking that maybe I loved him. That lasted about a minute. Because I looked a little deeper. And I saw the man underneath the phony sweetness and he wasn’t the same person. I mean, somehow we got along really well in terms of the shop and the business. But when it comes to relationships…well, let’s just say the man is not made for a relationship.”

“So you split.”

“I told him that it was over, that we were through. As lovers, not as business partners.”

“Neither of you were angry about the love relationship not working out?”

“No. We couldn’t have kept the business going if we were angry. It’s just the two of us. Besides, I’m pretty sure Gary was relieved it was over. He likes getting involved but it gets old pretty fast for him. And me? I was the one who dumped him. So there was no anger.”

“And you say the two of you work well together in the shop?”

“Sure. It wasn’t easy for a while after we broke up. But, really, it’s not like we loved each other and couldn’t get over it. I guess no one likes getting dumped, so Gary was a little bitchy for a few weeks. But we worked through it. Somehow we’ve maintained the friendship and the business working relationship.”

He stopped talking as if remembering it was unpleasant and he didn’t want to have to think about it. Doyle understood and gave the guy a moment to collect himself. But he also suspected there was more to the unpleasant memories than Brandon had told him.

“More coffee? I made plenty.”

“Yeah,” his voice was raspy. “I could use more.”

After refilling both mugs and letting Brandon swirl in sugar and milk then take a sip or two, Doyle cleared his throat. “Shall we continue?” He felt for the guy but he knew just because Brandon got emotional about his ex, it didn’t mean he couldn’t have killed him. In fact, maybe the emotion came from the fact that he did kill his friend.

Brandon nodded then looked up. His brown eyes were glassy.

“When’s the last time you saw Gary?”

“At the gift shop. That’s the business we started together. It’s called Greetings and we have cards, gifts, and other stuff. On South near Eleventh. Have you ever been there?” He paused then scrutinized Doyle. “No. I guess not. You don’t look like a greeting card kinda guy.”

“Not sure how you mean that.” Doyle smiled, wondering what a “greeting card kinda guy” might look like.

“Oh no! I didn’t mean anything bad. It’s just that you look like a guy’s guy. Not flowers and perfume and greeting cards. Not that kind of man.”

“Okay. If you say so.” Doyle wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or to start splashing on cologne and sending more cards and flowers.

“I’ve been in the business a while,” Brandon said. “I see all types. People come in and out of the shop all day. Six days a week. You’d be surprised what you can learn about people in a card shop.”

“The shop is the last place you saw Gary? When was that?”

“A little more than a week ago. He asked me to close up that night because he had an appointment. He always told me when he was going home or would be out for a few days. We never just leave the other guy hanging in the shop.”

“So he left early because he had an appointment?”

“That happens all the time. Sometimes I leave early or he does, but we let each other know. When he didn’t show the next morning, that was unusual.”

“He never did that before?”

“We always told one another if we were going to be out or late. Unless there was some emergency, we always showed up.”

“So what’d you do when he didn’t show?”

“I called him. His cell and his landline. He didn’t answer. And I texted him but he never responded to my messages. And, of course, I left voicemails and more text messages. But he didn’t respond.”

“He ever do that before?” Doyle asked.

“No. We always responded to each other’s messages. The business depends on the two of us working together. We have to respond.”

“And Gary had never done anything like this before?”

“No. I mean, Gary’s always been an independent kind of guy. Does his own thing. But lately Gary was even more independent than usual. He always did what he wanted, when he wanted. But when it came to the business and our schedules, he’d keep me in the loop. He liked the business a lot more than he liked anybody else. Lately, though, things got worse with him. He was even saying…” Brandon stopped as if he’d said too much.

“He said what?”

“Ah forget it, he was just blowing off steam. It’s not important.”

“It could be.” Doyle made a mental note to make sure Brandon eventually revealed what he was about to say. It might take a day or two but he’d find out.

“No, I know him. It’s nothing.”

“You said you called him?” I like getting a client to repeat himself. Sometimes they trip themselves up, which gives me something to work with.

“A million times. I needed to know what was happening. One person can’t handle the store alone. I wanted him to get in to work. But Gary never answered my calls and that’s never happened before.”

“Sounds like maybe he didn’t care about the business as much as you thought he did.”

“No. I don’t believe that. He loved the place as much as I did—at least, he used to. Lately it was like his head was elsewhere. The shop used to be the one thing Gary really did care about. But the past few weeks I’d catch him daydreaming. Not paying attention to details. Making mysterious phone calls. He was making noises like he didn’t care anymore. But I don’t believe that for a minute. The way I see it, there was something up with him and he didn’t want me knowing about it.” Brandon fiddled with his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and looked forlorn. “So, maybe you’re right. He didn’t care about the shop anymore. That would be really bad for me.”

“Why’s that, Brandon?”

“It’s all I have. I love the place. But every cent I have is tied up in it and I wouldn’t know what to do if it went under. So, I hope you’re wrong. I hope Gary is just going through something and he’ll be back working soon.”

Doyle suspected that Brandon at least had an idea what might be up with his ex. But he wasn’t revealing that just yet. Doyle knew he’d have to press the man on it at some point. For now he’d gather whatever information he could so he and Kord could make a decision on taking the case.

“And this behavior was totally unusual? He’d never been that way before?”

“No. Never. He loved that shop more than anything. He paid attention to every detail, every bit of business. He went out of his way to find the best products and companies to do business with. The shop was his life. More important than his boyfriends.”

“A moment ago you said you thought you loved him at first. What happened?”

“Did I use the word ‘love’? I didn’t mean to. Love is too strong a word for what I felt. When it happened it was all romantic haziness. I was vulnerable, I guess. But I saw through it all pretty quick. And when I did, that was it for me. It was over and that was quite a while ago. Truthfully, that relationship was over before it got started but neither of us realized it because he made things so romantic. But when it was over, both of us moved on pretty quickly. He found new love interests. Even got engaged a couple of times, not counting Owen, his latest. Poor sucker. Even though Owen doesn’t like me I feel sorry for him.”

“And that was it as far as your relationship?”

“Well, Gary and I remained friends and both of us love that business.”

“Sounds like you think his new boyfriend won’t last?”

“Gary isn’t made for long relationships. I don’t think he wants to face that about himself. So he keeps bouncing from one guy to the next. He’s not the kind of man I’d want and I don’t know many other guys who’d want someone like Gary, either. But there’s always somebody who gets fooled for a while.”

Doyle nodded but he wasn’t sure how he felt. On the one hand, Gary sounded like a s**t. But he didn’t have Gary’s side of the story. Maybe Brandon just didn’t want to put in the time to make a relationship work. Who knows what really went on between them? But Doyle felt that Brandon wasn’t being totally forthcoming.

“It didn’t matter to him that you dumped him?”

“I did dump him but I never looked at it that way. I just said we weren’t right for one another. I didn’t blame him or anything. But maybe that’s why…” Brandon paused and sighed. “Doesn’t matter. He says he’s happy with Owen and he still wants us to work together.”

“Can’t be easy, two former lovers seeing one another every day.”

“The one thing we had together was the business. We started that shop before we got together as a couple. We created it, designed it, and brought it into existence. Gary loves the place as much as I do. At least he did until recently.”

He used that phrase—Gary loves the shop—a lot, Doyle realized. Almost too much. He wondered what the man was trying to hide.

“Yeah, about that. How exactly did Gary’s behavior change?” Doyle knew this might give him some insight on how to proceed.

“Gary was, like, a different person. At first he was sweet, dedicated, focused on the shop. But he became like another person lately.”

“Gimme some idea of what you mean. When did you first notice this change?”

“A few months ago. It was gradual. He was withdrawn and started getting angry all the time. He’d leave the shop without telling me how to reach him. Something he’d never done. But he’d never disappear for long. A day or an evening. Never this long.”

“Any idea what caused the change in behavior?”

“Not a clue,” Brandon said. But Doyle detected a certain note in his voice. The guy was holding something back. Doyle knew Brandon had ideas about why Gary had changed but he wasn’t willing to offer them. Not yet, anyway. Doyle decided to let it ride. He’d confront Brandon when he had to.

“Did he become abusive?”

“No. Not really.”

“What’s that mean?”

“He was never physical. But sometimes, and this was even before he began to change, he liked dragging me down, telling me I wasn’t good enough or that I had no head for business. He’d always check my work as if I couldn’t be trusted. Lots of times he told me that I was getting fat and out of shape.”

Doyle looked at Brandon. This abuse angle threw a new light on things. ‘Sweet’ Gary had a dark side and that, Doyle knew, opened up a lot of possibilities.

“Well, that’s obviously not true, Brandon,” Doyle said.

“T-thanks,” Brandon glanced up at Doyle and there was that slight seductive look in his eyes.

“And when you saw him the last time, did he say or do anything unusual or…” He wanted Brandon to finish the sentence.

“No. Nothing. It was business as usual. He opened up the shop and I closed it at the end of the day. He left around the middle of the afternoon. Haven’t seen him since then.”

“Did he always leave the shop that early?”

“We had an agreement. Some days he’d open up and could leave early. I’d close up and could come in later if I had to. Usually we were both there most of the time.”

“When he got abusive, like you described, how did you react?”

“Not like you’d think. I didn’t argue, that would’ve made things worse.”

“So you just took it?”

“And hated him more every minute.”

“Hated him enough to hurt him?

Brandon was silent.