The Hired Man (17 page)

Just as I was getting ready to call it a day, the phone rang. It was Jared, asking whether I wanted to join him for happy hour at Ramón's. I figured I deserved a break and agreed.

Jared didn't get off work until around 5:00, but I got to Ramón's a little after 4:30, figuring I could do a little catching up with the owner, Bob Allen, whom I felt kind of guilty about not having seen in quite a while. Jimmy, the bartender, smiled and waved when I came in and took a seat at the far end of the bar. He was engaged in conversation with a guy at the opposite end of the bar.

“How's it goin', Dick?” he asked when he finally broke away and came to take my order. “We haven't seen you around the last couple days. Old Fashioned or Manhattan?”

“Old Fashioned, I guess. And, yeah, I've been busy.”

I didn't feel like mentioning—much less thinking about—the whole Billy thing. The not mentioning I could handle; the not thinking about I knew was impossible. I just wished to hell I could find a way to leave work at the office, but I hadn't been able to do that since I took out my PI license.

“Bob around?” I asked.

“Not till later.” he said then turned to grab a bottle of bourbon for my drink.

I took a bill out of my wallet and put it on the counter.

“No charge,” he said.

“Hey, thanks, Jimmy.” I was surprised. “That's really…”

“Not me,” he said, nodding toward the guy he'd been talking to. “Him.”

The guy was in the shadows, and I couldn't see who it was. I raised my glass in a silent toast to him and smiled a thanks.

He got up from his stool and came toward me. The minute I saw him walk, I knew who it was—Aaron, ModelMen's “down and dirty” specialist. I wondered what the hell he was doing in Ramón's at 4:30 in the afternoon.

I set my drink down and swiveled around on my stool to shake his hand.

“Small world,” I said.

He smiled, but the cockiness I remember from our first meeting was missing. I assumed he'd heard about Billy.

“I didn't know you came in here,” he said.

“A regular,” I said. “How about you? Ramón's isn't exactly on the beaten track.”

He pulled out the stool next to me and sat down.

“I just took a new apartment in the neighborhood,” he said. “Right down the street, as a matter of fact—that new building on Hersh.”

I knew the building.

“Nice place,” I said.

“Yeah, well, I can afford it now. You should have seen the dump I was living in before.”

He was quiet for a moment then said, “You heard about Billy.”

“Yeah.”

“I still can't believe it. He was a nice kid.”

“That he was,” I agreed, and began formulating a long list of questions I wanted to ask him.

He raised his glass.

“To Billy,” he said, and I raised mine and clicked it lightly against his.

“To Billy,” I repeated, and we each took a long drink.

Just as I was ready to start asking him what he might know about Billy that would be of any help in figuring out what had happened to him, the back door opened and Jared came in. The questions would have to wait.

“Dick,” Jared said by way of greeting then surprised me by nodding to Aaron and adding, “Aaron.”

“Jared.”

“You two know each other?” I really shouldn't have been surprised. Jared seemed to know just about everybody—especially the hot ones.

“Yeah,” Aaron said. “We see each other at the Male Call from time to time.”

The Male Call was one of the more popular of the leather bars, and Jared's favorite when he was in one of what he called his “leather moods.”

“Jared was the one who told me about
this
place,” Aaron said. “Nice to have a bar close to home.”

“So, you're all moved in?” Jared asked after getting Jimmy's attention.

“Just about,” Aaron said. “Still got some stuff to unpack…and some equipment to install.”

They exchanged grins, and I didn't have to wonder too hard what “equipment” he might be referring to.

“You'll have to stop by to check it out,” Aaron added then turned to me. “You, too.”

Uh, sure,
I thought.

Jared grinned. “Dick's not much into leather,” he said, winking at Jimmy as he exchanged cash for his drink.

Jimmy looked from Jared to Aaron to me and returned the wink.

Aaron looked at me and shrugged.

“Too bad.”

“Have you heard anything more about your friend?” Jared asked. “I left a message at Tim's place after I called you—thought he might like to join us for a drink.”

“Well,” I said, “Tim keeps pretty odd work hours—depends a lot on what they have going on. But, no, I haven't heard anything more.”

I wondered if Jared knew Aaron worked for ModelMen and had known Billy, but I didn't say anything.

We sat around talking for about an hour, then Jared drained his glass and got up from his stool.

“Well, I've got to get home,” he said. “Still doing the final polish on my thesis. God, I don't think I'm
ever
going to finish that damned thing.”

Aaron looked at his watch.

“Yeah, I'd better take off, too. I've got a client at eight.”

Jared said, “Wow, you keep late hours.”

Aaron grinned.

“Yeah. No rest for the wicked.” He gave me a knowing look.

I gathered from the exchange that Jared did
not
know what Aaron did for a living, or for whom.

I hadn't quite finished my drink, so we all shook hands. Jared left by the back door, Aaron out the front.

When Jimmy came over to pick up the empty glasses, I asked him if he knew anything about Aaron.

“That is one fucking hot dude,” he replied, “but he's got a tendency to want to play a little rough.”

“Oh?”

He put the glasses in the sink under the bar.

“Yeah. He came in around closing a couple nights ago—first time I'd ever seen him—and we got to talking. I took him over to my place after I got off work, and we got going hot and heavy, but the more we got into it, the rougher he got. I finally had to tell him to back off a little.”

“And did he?”

Jimmy shrugged.

“I had to tell him twice so he'd know I really meant it, but then—sure.” He grinned. “I have to admit some of it was kind of interesting, though.”

*

I knew Tim would call me if there was any news on Billy but tried calling him anyway as soon as I got home. I felt like talking with him—and I was none-of-my-business curious to follow up on my hunch he and Jared were getting together for a little action. No Scorpio jealousy involved, I might add. To me, they both fell into that rarified category known as “fuck buddies”—what I heard somebody define as “a friend with benefits.”

It's really hard to find someone who can be both a good friend and a casual sex partner, but with no romantic attachment. I doubted anything serious was going on between Tim and Jared. Both of them liked to play around too much to think about settling down. Still…

He wasn't home, so I left a message then thought about calling the Glicks to arrange a meeting with Steve and Mark. Then, I reminded myself again that I needed to separate work from my personal life—I'd call them in the morning.

I fried up some pork chops (crisp to the point of being burnt), made some instant mashed potatoes and my world-famous homemade gravy (flour, water, salt and pepper poured into the frying pan and stirred with the grease from the pork chops). Then I sat settled in for a night of TV.

Some personal life.

*

I'd planned to call the Glicks as soon as I got to the office on Thursday but, on checking my messages, saw I'd just missed a call from Mrs. Glick from her home number. There was also a call from Lt. Richman, to which I gave preference.

My call went directly through, and I identified myself, although I suspected that, by now, Richman could recognize my voice.

“Dick,” he said, “thanks for returning my call so quickly.”

“No problem, Lieutenant. What can I do for you?” I felt more than a little trepidation; Richman's calls were seldom good news.

“I was wondering what you could tell me about local male escort services.” he asked.

Here we go,
I thought, immediately envisioning myself between a very large rock and a very hard place.

“I know there are a couple around,” I said, stepping out onto my tightrope without a balance bar. “Why do you ask?”

“We're looking into the possibility that Anderson may have used their services. The Montero staff says he was frequently seen in the company of a very well-groomed young man who didn't fit the image of your average street hustler. They thought he was one of Anderson's employees, but we checked and couldn't find anyone of his description on Anderson's regular payroll, so we figured he might have been a call boy.”

Shit!

“Well, that's possible,” I said, “but I'm afraid I've never had the opportunity—or the money—to utilize an escort service.” I sincerely hoped Richman couldn't hear me tap-dancing around his implied question.

“So, do you think it's possible one of these…call boys…escorts—whatever you want to call them—might be involved?”

I took a deep breath. “Well, Lieutenant, to be honest with you…”

Shit! Why the hell did I have to say that!

“From what I do know of these services, I'd say that, while Anderson may have used them, it would be pretty unlikely that a professional escort would be involved in his death. I understand those services screen their…employees…pretty thoroughly, and as you say, they're several steps above street hustlers in more ways than one.

“And while Anderson could easily have afforded some high-priced company, Billy certainly would never have had the money or the need for it. He could have anybody he wanted just for the asking.”

“Hmmm,” Richman said. “Yeah, I suppose you're right. I've checked out the local gay papers and found three services listed—Hunks, Company, and Call Guys. Do you know about them?”

Jeezus,
I thought,
he's getting close, and if he finds out, and he thinks I've been screwing him over, I'm in deep, deep shit.

“Well,” I said, “I'm pretty sure the guys who work through Hunks and Call Guys aren't quite in the same league you're talking about. They're pretty much available to just about anybody looking for a quick roll in the hay and willing to pay for it—basically, home delivery street hustlers.”

“And Company?”

“I honestly don't know anything about them, but I can check, if you'd like.”

“Yeah, if you would. I figured you'd know more about these places than we would, and the more time the department can save by not having to go on wild goose chases, the better.” There was another pause, and I started to give a mental sigh of relief when he said, “Any others that you know of?”

Oh-oh! Careful how you word this one, kid!

“Let me think on that and get back to you as soon as I can,” I said. “Today, if possible, but…”

“Yeah,” he said, “That'll be fine. Thanks for your help, Dick.”

“You're welcome, Lieutenant.”

*

I dialed the Glicks' home number and, after a brief exchange of pleasantries with Johnnie Mae, asked to speak to Mrs. Glick. There was only a momentary pause until I heard a receiver being picked up.

“I'm glad you called,” Mrs. Glick said, sounding not as stressed as the last time we'd spoken. “Mr. Glick and I we were wondering if you could join us for dinner tomorrow evening, say around six-thirty? All our escorts…” There was a slight hesitation as she must have suddenly realized that not all of them would, in fact, be present. “…will be here. It might be a little soon after…Billy's loss, but Phil insists he is up to it, and I know you still haven't met Mark and Steve. Perhaps being with the entire group at once might be helpful to you in some way.”

“That sounds fine, Mrs. Glick,” I said, “but something has just come up, and I think it's imperative I meet with you and Mr. Glick immediately.”

“I was just on my way to the office,” she said, the tension back in her voice. “Mr. Glick is already there. Let me give him a call to make sure he's free, and if you've not heard back from me in five minutes, just come directly over to the office?”

“I'd appreciate that,” I said. “I hope to see you soon.”

*

I fidgeted around the office for about ten minutes then, not having heard otherwise from the Glicks, headed out for the ModelMen offices. The receptionist, obviously expecting me, smiled and motioned me directly to Mr. Glick's office. I knocked, and when he said “Come in,” I did so, closing the door behind me.