The Dirt Peddler (6 page)

Fletcher gave me a shy smile. “I've seen you in the bars. Several times. You never noticed me, of course.”

What do you mean “of course?”
I wondered.
And why did that make me feel like a ten-pound bag of bat guano?

“And I could tell those lawyers are so uptight I'll bet their sphincters would slam shut at the very idea of hiring a gay P.I.”

I broke out laughing, and after a quick trepidatious look to see if I was laughing at him or with him, he joined me, covering his mouth with his hand like a kid. The ice pretty much melted away after that. “What were Craylaw and Collier's lawyers wanting you to say?”

“They thought Tony had been breeching company security and stealing files.”

“On Governor Keene.” I didn't have to make it a question.

He nodded. “And they thought I was helping him.”

“And were you?” I watched closely for his reaction. “Closely” was hardly necessary. I could have been a block away and still caught it; he lowered his head and dropped his eyes to the floor. I don't imagine the guy was very good at playing poker.

“It wasn't that way at all.” He looked up at me with his head still lowered.

“What way was it?”

He waited until his head had caught up with his eyes. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“Well, for one thing because it was Mr. Tunderew who asked me to talk with you.”

“He did?” Fletcher said, his entire face lighting up.

I nodded.

“Well, then you know why I wouldn't tell those lawyers anything—not with Tony doing undercover work for the FBI.”

!!!!
I thought.

He nodded his head somberly and continued. “He needed to get all the information on the Keene case he could from C&C's files. The FBI thinks some higher ups at C&C were in on the scandal. But Tony couldn't draw suspicion to himself by getting the files himself, so he asked me to help him.”

My first reaction was:
You're pulling my leg, right?
Nobody
can be that gullible!

But then I thought of what little I knew about the charming Mr. Tunderew, and the vibes I was getting from a young man who practically exuded low self-esteem, and I realized exactly what Tunderew had done. The kid obviously had a crush on him. Tunderew had zeroed in on it like a rattlesnake on a mouse hole, and the poor kid didn't stand a chance.

And any idea at all I might have had of Larry Fletcher being the one blackmailing Tony T. Tunderew went right out the window. I'd been wrong before—a lot—but I didn't think I was this time.

“I'm curious. Did Mr. Tunderew ever give you any indication that he might be gay?”

The downcast eyes again, and a furious blush. Finally, he looked back up at me. “Not in so many words. I mean, I know he's married and all that, and he likes to pretend he hates gays, but…”

My opinion of Tunderew was rapidly sliding from dislike to loathing. I had not the slightest doubt that he had deliberately led Larry on with those “best buddy” smiles he himself had alluded to. I despise people who take advantage of the naivety of others to get something for themselves.

I decided to just forge ahead. “Did you ever…uh…socialize with Mr. Tunderew outside of the office?”

Fletcher looked truly surprised, and shook his head vigorously. “Oh, no. Never. I'm sure we would have, but his wife is a real witch. He had to go right home every night after work or she'd make his life miserable. I really felt sorry for him. He talked several times about wishing he could take me out for dinner to show his appreciation for everything I did for him, but his wife would never allow it.”

Sigh.

“I understand Mr. Tunderew loaned you some money toward your apartment?”

“Yes,” Fletcher replied with a happy smile. “That's just like Tony. When I told him I was going to have to quit work and move back home, he offered to lend me the money to get my own apartment.”

Somehow I didn't think I had to ask him if Tunderew's generosity might have coincided with the time Fletcher was copying files for him. If Fletcher had indeed quit, Tunderew probably would have had a tough time finding someone else to do his dirty work.

Of course that thought had probably never occurred to Fletcher, who was still talking. “He's a wonderful man. I've tried to repay him, but he's never cashed a single one of the checks I send him.”

Checks? He was sending Tunderew checks, and that arrogant asshole just tore them up without opening them because he assumed they were love letters!

“Where do you send them?”

“He has a post office box. When I'd copy a file for him, I'd stay after work to do it, and then mail it to him at his box. He didn't want me to just give it to him there at work, and I couldn't send it to his home because of his wife. I don't have his home address anyway.”

“And did you ever find anything to incriminate any Craylaw and Collier personnel?”

He shook his head. “Oh, I never read anything I copied. That wouldn't be right. Tony would just tell me which file he wanted and I'd find it and copy the whole thing.”

I wondered if he knew it was Tunderew who had gotten him fired.

“You're no longer working at Craylaw and Collier, I understand.”

He looked embarrassed, and again lowered his eyes.

“No. I…I was fired
.
I think someone found out I was copying files, though they never asked me anything until later when the lawyers talked to me. When he found out I was fired, Tony went right to Mr. Craylaw to ask him to give me my job back.”

“He did? How do you know that?”

“Tony told me.”

Dear God!

“When did he tell you that?”

“I ran into him in the hall when I came back to the office the next day to pick up some of the things I'd left.”

“Were you aware that Mr. Tunderew is being blackmailed?” I asked, again watching closely for any reaction that might indicate I was wrong in thinking it wasn't him.

He looked truly shocked. “No! What for? Who'd do something like that?” He paused and then nodded his head up and down slowly, eyes narrowing. “I'll bet it's his wife! I heard that he finally filed for divorce. I'll bet she's trying to get even!”

The guy had a good point. Now that I'd ruled him out, she'd be the next logical place to look. I was still amazed at how incredibly naive Fletcher was about Tunderew and what he was really up to.

I couldn't resist asking the obvious. “Didn't you think it a little odd that after Mr. Tunderew had you do all that file copying on Governor Keene, he comes out with a book on the scandal?”

He shook his head. “No…well, maybe a little bit at first, but I went to his very first book signing and waited for him afterwards until he came out, and I talked to him and asked him about it. He said the FBI had given him permission to use anything he'd found out about the scandal for helping them, except he couldn't mention Craylaw and Collier because the investigation is still going on.”

And the kid actually
believes
it!
my mind said, incredulous.
How can any one human being be so stupid?

And the minute I thought that, I was ashamed of myself. It wasn't a matter of being stupid, just a matter of seeing what one wants to see. Fletcher sincerely thought Tunderew was his friend, and that alone made me truly sad.

There was one other thing I thought I should clear up, just for my own satisfaction.

“Mr. Tunderew says he's seen you at a couple of his book signings.”

Fletcher nodded. “Yes, I wanted to be one of the first ones to buy his book, and I did have those questions for him, so I went to that signing I told you about. And then I went to Bennington's opening of their new store in The Central to have him sign a copy to send to my folks. He was so busy, he hardly even had a chance to look at me.”

Uh huh.

I got up from my chair.

“Well, thanks very much for coming in, Mr. Fletcher. I'll let Mr. Tunderew know I've talked with you. And he told me to tell you to just forget about repaying the loan. He owes you a lot more than that.”

Fletcher got up and followed me to the door. He was obviously delighted that Tunderew had been thinking of him. I was very glad he did not know in what way.

“Please tell Tony hello for me, will you?”

“I'll do that.”

Smiling, he left.

Chapter 3

Jonathan showed up about five minutes after Larry Fletcher left, and we got on with our weekend. I was pleasantly surprised to find that from the moment I closed the office door behind me until I opened it again on Monday, I hadn't given more than a total of five minutes of thought to my current case—largely, I'm sure, because other than my empathy for Larry Fletcher, I knew I really didn't
care
who was blackmailing Tony T. Tunderew.

Well, with Fletcher eliminated, in my mind anyway, as the blackmailer, it was time to move on to the wife…or ex-wife by now. After I'd gone through my coffee/paper/crossword puzzle ritual Monday morning, I dialed Tunderew's “office” number. I needed him to call me so I could tell him about Fletcher, and get the number and address for his ex.

“Mr. Tunderew's office,” the switchboard operator said. I wondered idly if she even had any idea who he was.

“Is Mr. Tunderew in?” I asked, just to see what this one would say.

“I'm sorry, sir,” she said, and there was a slight pause. When she continued, it was obvious she was reading from a prepared text. “Mr. Tunderew will be out of town until Thursday of this week on a book signing tour. He will be a guest on A.M. New York on Channel Fourteen on Tuesday at nine forty-five local time and invites you to watch.”

God, what a sweetheart that Tunderew is!
one of my little mind-voices whispered reverently
. He wants
you
to watch him plug his book. Almost brings a tear to the eye, doesn't it?

“Uh, thank you, but I'll be having an elective root canal at that time. Could I just leave him a message, please?”

I left my number and told him to call me.

After I hung up, it occurred to me that with Tunderew having been so dead certain that Larry Fletcher was the blackmailer, and having hired me primarily because both Fletcher and I are gay, he never made it clear what he wanted me to do if it
wasn't
Fletcher. I could either sit back and wait for him to call, or proceed on the assumption that he'd still want me to find out who the blackmailer was. In the back of my mind, I suspected that when I told him I didn't think it was Fletcher, he'd think I was lying to protect a fellow faggot and fire me. Well, I wasn't just going to sit around and twiddle my thumbs for that to happen. I'd been hired to find his blackmailer, and I'd do my best to do just that. And you can be damned sure I would bill him for every minute spent on the case up to the point of getting the ax.

While I was almost certain that he wouldn't be listed in the phone book, I picked it up and turned to the
T
s. I was right. “Tundeman, James” was followed by “Tundfell, Stanley.” Nary a “Tunderew” to be found.

I decided to call Glen O'Banyon's office on the assumption that he might know how to get in touch with Tunderew's ex. O'Banyon, of course, was in court, but I left a message with Donna, asking her to see if I could get Mrs. Tunderew's first name and current address and phone number. She said she would get back to me.

*

Around two o'clock, Jonathan called. Unusual for him to call at that hour, but I was glad to hear from him anyway.

“Hi, Babe. What's up?”

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked, then paused. “I mean can
I
do
Randy
a favor?”

He had me confused, but it wasn't a first time for that. “Sure, I suppose. What does he need?”

“He wants to come into town tonight. He, uh, he's got some stuff he wants to do, and he needs a ride in and back. Would that be okay if I went and got him and took him back later?”

“Uh, I guess,” I said, not wanting to press him for details.

“Great! Thanks! I'm at the office at work now. We were out at New Eden this morning and I had to run back to pick up some fertilizer, so I thought I'd better call now so I can tell Randy when I go back out there. Thanks a lot! I'll see you at home.”

“Okay.”

I really hoped Randy wasn't going to look on Jonathan as a regular taxi service. It didn't occur to me to wonder what “stuff” Randy had to do in town.

*

“What time are you supposed to pick up Randy?” I asked as we sat on the sofa in our just-home-from-work mode.

“Six thirty or seven,” Jonathan replied, taking a long swig from his Coke. “I really hope you don't mind. I know it's kind of an imposition, but he said he had something he wanted to talk to me about, and we can't talk there.”

“That's okay.” I didn't ask why Randy didn't just come over here, because I realized he probably wouldn't feel comfortable talking about whatever it was in front of me.

“So you're just supposed to take him into town and pick him up later, or…?”

Jonathan blushed and looked uncomfortable. “Yeah.”

I cocked my head and looked at him with a slightly raised eyebrow until he gave a huge sigh and said, “He wants to come in to town so he can…uh, make a little money. He says he needs some cash to tide him over until some big deal he's got going comes through.”

I could sense that wasn't the whole story.

“So you're just supposed to take him into town and pick him up later?” I repeated.

He took his feet off the table, chug-a-lugged his Coke and didn't meet my eyes. “Yes, that's what I'm going to do,” he said a little defensively. “What's the matter, don't you trust me?”

That took me aback. “Of course I trust you.”