Hard Case (7 page)

“Agreed. That friendly, good-old-boy routine works wonders sometimes. It took me a moment to recognize it for what it is. I’d bet heavily that he’s got his sights set high.”

“Without question,” Steve agreed then turned back to Leland. Troy noticed the man had stepped aside and opened the door fully.

“I’ll just be out here.” Leland smiled. “I’ll knock on the door if security starts asking me what Keyton’s timetable is and will give you as much time as I can wrangle.”

“Thank you,” Troy and Steve said almost simultaneously, as they entered Keyton’s office.

Chapter Four

More wood paneling filled the office, but Troy’s gaze was immediately drawn to the far wall. From floor to ceiling it was glass windows looking out onto the Thames. The view was stunning. Another wall had been converted into a bookcase. It was crammed with leather bound volumes. This area looked well lived in and richly masculine. Keyton Marshall stood and came around from his desk, hand outstretched and he warmly shook both their hands.

Medium height with short dark hair and thin-rimmed glasses made him appear more like an academic than one of the most powerful men in the city. There was warmth in his gaze and genuine pleasure in his tone as he greeted them both. Troy had met many powerful men. Often they used charisma to smooth the wheels. But Troy instantly recognized something infinitely more than this usual shallowness in Keyton’s manner.

This man genuinely cared and was
interested
.

That wasn’t something he could fake.

“I must say I was impressed with your friend, Finlay, Mr. Price,” Keyton said. “If he wasn’t so clearly passionate about his work, I’d have spent quite a while trying to woo him over to my side of the fence.”

“I’m glad you can see where his interests lie, then,” Troy replied warmly. “And please, call me Troy. We both appreciate the time you’ve given to us.”

“Not at all, I only wish I could give you more. Steve old boy, how are things?”

“Doing fine, thanks, Key. You’ve certainly done well.”

“Don’t be fooled by this man, Troy,” Keyton said with mock seriousness, waggling a finger at Steve. “You can go along for hours, days, and think he’s a mild-mannered, quiet and sturdy man, completely unprepossessing. Then the shit hits the fan and bam! Most punishing left hook I’ve ever witnessed. I’ve seen him drop bullies more than twice his size without breaking a sweat.”

“I’m not remotely in that kind of shape anymore,” Steve insisted.

Keyton made a rude sound and ignored the protest.

“I won’t pretend we were the closest of chums,” Keyton continued, “but I’ll never forget when we got into a skirmish with a rival school—a dozen or so of us, after a particularly vicious footy match. Fists flying everywhere, the enthusiasm and hot-blooded rage of youth, you know. Steve here remained calm and in control. Got the younger boys out of the mix then proceeded to mill down grown men with a few short, well-placed jabs. Best bloody thing I’ve ever seen.”

Troy glanced at Steve, a smile hovering on his lips. Steve appeared faintly uncomfortable, clearly having not expected Keyton to recall him, let alone wax lyrical over his exploits in their misspent youth.

Troy was amused.

“But I’m wasting precious time, I suppose,” Keyton sighed. “That’s the bloody problem with politics, gentlemen. So much talking, but only five percent of it really means anything. Would either of you care for a drink?”

Both Troy and Steven declined. Keyton waved them to couches set up in a corner of the office, clearly a more relaxed, informal sitting area. They all took their seats and Keyton leaned forward, his attention focused on Troy.

“Right then. What can I do for you?”

“We’re trying to discover why this man appears to want you killed,” Troy dug into his pocket, pulled out his phone and brought up the picture of James. “I believe this man, James, is behind the threats to you, but we have no real understanding of why. Do you recognize him?”

Keyton took Troy’s phone and studied the picture carefully. Troy surveyed Keyton, attentive to the man’s entire demeanor. There was no flicker of recognition in his eye, no tightening of his jaw, no tensing of his muscles. When Keyton lifted his head to catch his gaze, his face were clear of deception.

“No, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this man,” Keyton said. “Should I recognize him?”

“There’s a second one if you flick over to it, a closer image of his face.”

Keyton obligingly swapped to the other picture and studied it with as much focus as the previous one. Still, when he claimed no knowledge of James, Troy was forced to believe him—either that or Keyton was a master of deception and had been expecting this, able to control any impulse to give himself away.

When Keyton handed the phone back Troy pocketed it, trying to hide his disappointment.

“I’m also seriously looking into the possibility this might hark back to your school days,” Troy continued. “There are an awful lot of connections in this case that go back to that time. Can you think of anyone who might have reason to hold a grudge? Did you step on someone’s feet from those days when you started in this career? Or possibly break some girl’s heart? If you could give me an idea of who might feel they have a score to settle with you—or wish to see you dead—I can discreetly look into other avenues.”

“I’ve no claims to sainthood, nor was I a monk throughout my youth,” Keyton shook his head. “But I’ve been a happily married man for many years now. Judy and I have two small children, we’re blissfully settled together and I’m not one to ruin what I’ve created for myself on the chance the grass might be greener somewhere else. You’re welcome to look for yourself, but unless this is a stalker or someone who I have genuinely no knowledge of rebuffing, I can’t see a jilted lover playing into this.”

“There must be people you come into contact with through your work though…” Steven let his words trail off. Troy cast him a quick glance, warmed by how seamlessly he’d interjected the suggestion without making is seem they were accusing Keyton of anything.

“Well of course, that’s a different story all together,” Keyton admitted with a grin. “It’s impossible to do anything in politics without balancing who you offend most and who you join forces with. But I can’t imagine anyone around here would resort to murder. Through a second, third or fourth party, I would find it believable, but people around here wouldn’t sully their hands with such business, particularly not if it was possible to tie back to them. Media slander, dropping ‘accidental’ tit-bits and destroying a man’s reputation, casting him in poor light, that sort of stuff is common. Murder is beyond the pale.”

“So the rumors circulating about your accepting money for information, the slurs against your good name… Those could be from within here somewhere?” Troy murmured pensively.

“Certainly.” Keyton nodded. “But I’m afraid that list is endless. Hell, I make enemies when I refuse to do such things. It’s a lose-lose situation when you’re approached. You take the bribe and sell your soul, you’re on a short and slippery path out of the game. You refuse them, and not only do these sorts of stories linger around, but you’ve also frustrated whoever wanted you in his pocket. There’s a reason why ten years in this building is considered a true achievement.”

“I know your time is limited,” Troy pressed. “But if you could think about anything that might connect back to the past, your studying days in particular, I’d appreciate it.”

Keyton took the business card Troy handed him, slipping it to the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Our last few years—when most of the class pranks and mischief really got wild—my cronies and I already had our eyes on the big prize over here. We were tame, to be honest. One night after practice, we put bubble bath in the school fountain. Had no idea how much would be enough, so the whole quad was a mess by the end of it—suds everywhere. We also talked big about stealing the mascot from our rival cricket team’s trophy room, but that ended up being wishful thinking. We never followed through on it, though we gave it a good crack. Drew the line at breaking and entering. I’ll talk to my wife Judy though, chat to some of the boys, see if they can think of something I’ve forgotten.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Troy stood. “Thank you, Keyton.”

They shook hands again.

“I’m sorry to dash.” Keyton grimaced. “But I have your details and I will certainly call if something comes up.”

Keyton walked them to the door, grinning and slapping them on the back as they left his office. Leland looked up, his eyebrows rising slightly as they came toward him. He glanced at the clock, seeming surprised.

“That was prompt. I do hope you didn’t rush on account of my pointing out Mr. Marshall has other appointments to keep,” he said as he stood.

“No, nothing to worry about Leland,” Keyton said from the doorway. “I’m just going to call Judy, see if she’ll be ready soon. If you could see Mr. Price and Mr. Thompson safely back through security, you can call Simon and tell him I’ll be ready to leave in under ten minutes.”

“Of course, Mr. Marshall.” Leland picked up the receiver of the phone on his desk. When Keyton closed the door, Leland turned to glance at them. “I’ll call Simon now. Keyton’s driver will need a few minutes to get from the parking lot to the reserved section out front. Traffic is always a nightmare around here after hours.”

Troy placed a hand on Steven’s arm and they moved away.

“I was thinking it might be nice for us to grab some dinner, maybe a drink. While I’d like to discuss things, maybe brainstorm a little with you I promise to not monopolize the conversation just with work. What do you think?”

“I think that sounds excellent, so long as you stick to just the one beer. The medication the doctor undoubtedly has you on won’t react well to the alcohol.”

Troy blinked, stunned for a moment at Steve’s response. When he caught laughter glinting in his blue eyes, he relaxed and huffed out a reluctant chuckle.

“Quite. My mistake,” Troy admitted.

“Seriously,” Steve said after he chuckled. “That sounds good. It’s been a while since I’ve relaxed with a pint and taken my time over a meal. With excellent company and something that doesn’t involve bleeding, broken bones or losing people on the operating table, I’m all for it.”

“I hope you gents got what you were after?” Leland asked as he came over to them. Glancing from one to the other, he silently checked they were ready. Clearly satisfied, Leland led the way down the long corridors, escorting them out.

“Actually a lot of this kind of work is crossing possibilities off the list,” Troy said. “Sadly, it’s not like the movies and books portray—all guns and bombs, cars racing from one disaster to the next.”

“Well, as long as there’s the odd sexy woman in a slinky gown to keep things interesting, that’s the important thing, right?” Leland laughed. “There are the chaps who will take your visitors badges and help you out. It was good to meet you both.”

Troy and Steven went to the security desk and were given yet more forms to sign. Troy cast a glance over his shoulder, watching as Leland seemed to assure himself they were all right with the guards, then turned and left them to it. Checking his watch for the time, Troy then completed his sign-out paperwork. He and Steven exchanged grins as they both unclipped their badges, returning them to the officer.

They left in companionable silence, walking in step with each other out to the car.

* * * *

“What is it about hanging around at the pub, eating their food, drinking a pint and talking trash about sports that acts as the best form of relaxation I’ve ever known?” Troy mused as he took a sip of his beer.

They’d just finished eating and were lingering over their drinks. The beer wasn’t his first preference—or hell, his second either—but Steve had a point about the potential ramifications about making a cocktail of his pain medication and alcohol. Besides, something about this case had Troy wanting to keep a clear head about him. Add in the lingering sexual awareness humming between himself and Steven and he knew he didn’t want to be drunk when they finally managed to seal the deal between them.

That was something he wanted to be present for, with every sense wide open and able to commit each touch, lick and caress to memory.

“This is the best form of relaxation, you know?” Steve chuckled, eyeing him with a hint of cocky amusement over his Guinness.

Troy grinned, winked and gave him that point. “Well, not the best, no,” he admitted. “But you know what I mean. Ask practically any bloke how he wants to spend an hour or two after a hard day at work—no matter what that job might entail—and I’d guarantee more than half would want a pint at the pub, a few mates and sport in the background.”

“Must be something in our DNA,” Steven mused. “Or maybe society has just grown to the point where this is how we socialize now. What with the Internet, social media, all those reality shows and putting videos up every sixteen seconds or whatever it is, this is a throwback to honest, face to face interaction.”

Troy nodded as he took another sip. “I have to agree, mate. It’s human contact without the hassle you get in your career. Nor are there the pressures of family duty. Just good grog, the chance to watch the football and a few non-threatening conversations with likeminded guys.”

“Cheers.” Steve raised his glass.

They saluted each other and both drank again.

Troy thought about what they’d both just said. He’d seen that change in his small group of friends. There were those who had to rush off after the speediest pint ever, or who groaned they were teased and dared for ‘just one more’. And there were those who acted like there was nowhere else they needed to be—foot loose and fancy free.

Troy had a sister who lived in Ireland, and his parents had retired to Spain almost five years ago. While they all kept in touch, he definitely fell into the latter category of someone who probably obsessed a bit too much about work and had too much free time on his hands after hours.