Chapter Five
The Co-star
Two days later, Marc contacted Jason for an update on the case. He was in Blyham for a meeting at the conference centre and, when it wrapped up early, he found himself with time to spare.
“Any news?” he asked, surprised by the flighty sensation in his chest at the sound of Jason’s voice over the phone.
“Actually, I have made some decent inroads. Are you free to chat?”
“I’m in the city right now. I can drop by the office before I leave.” He told Jason where he was.
“I’m in the same area. There’s a coffee shop in the foyer of the concert hall, two buildings down from the conference centre.”
“I know it.” Marc’s excitement increased. Why was he so eager to see him again?
“I can meet you there in about fifteen minutes, if that sounds good. I’ve got things to show you.”
Marc asked Jason what he wanted to drink and headed along the waterfront to the concert hall. It was a recent addition to the Blyham riverside development, with impressive mirrored windows from the floor to the roof, reflecting the city during the day, while lighting up from within at night. It was almost directly across the water from the Vermont Hotel, where Theo had taken his final steps.
Marc arrived at the coffee shop in the lull between the daytime trade and the evening crowd who would come out for the shows in another hour. The venue boasted two remarkable halls that catered to all musical tastes, from pop to folk, classical, indie, jazz and opera. He ordered a decaf cappuccino for himself and a large, black Americano for Jason. Then he selected two huge chocolate chip cookies on the side—their denseness looked too good to resist—and found a prime table by the window, with unrestricted views of the river. He’d have to remember this place when he was next in town. It was one of the nicest spots in Blyham and far more relaxed than the chain coffee shops that were on every other street.
A teenaged couple sat at a booth in the corner. They smiled and giggled nervously at each other, clearly on some kind of date. A smart woman sipped black coffee and tapped away at a laptop, while an attractive man in his thirties stared intently at his phone screen. There was a quiet, easy-going vibe about the place that Marc appreciated.
Jason arrived a few minutes later.
Jesus, he’s stunning.
He was wearing chinos, an open-necked shirt and a blazer. Marc figured this must be his regular look for work. Smart enough to make a good impression, but not so stuffy that he would alienate the people he needed to talk to .
He wore it well and looked even better than Marc remembered. More handsome, sexier. His eyes were bigger and more expressive. His dark-blond hair was tousled, falling over his brow on the left side. There was a presence about him too, an aura that emanated from within his striking physicality.
“Hi,” he said, sliding into the seat opposite. His cologne was fresh and citrusy. No hint of alcohol this time. Marc wondered whether he had imagined it the other day.
“Hi,” Marc said, returning Jason’s grin with more enthusiasm than he could control.
“Is this for me?” Jason picked up the cup and took an appreciative sip. The coffee was still steaming. “Whoa. I didn’t realise how much I needed that.”
“Long day?”
“Yep. I’ve been on the go since six. I had my lunch at eleven-thirty, which is ridiculously early for me.”
“That’s for you too.” Marc pushed a plate with a cookie on top towards him.
“You’re a life saver.” Jason broke the cookie in two and devoured half of it in two bites, before taking another sip of coffee.
Marc loved a man with a good appetite. Jack had been the same for most of their relationship. He’d always been the first to clear his plate at any meal and never refused an extra helping. Did Jason remind him of Jack? Physically, no. They were nothing alike, but there was something about his spirit that triggered a connection.
“What brings you into the city? Your factory is outside of town, right?” He dunked the rest of the cookie in his coffee then stuffed it in his mouth .
So, he’s done his research on me too. “Meetings. A couple of potential clients and I had to see my accountant this morning too. Run-of-the-mill stuff, but it had to be done.”
Jason nodded, picking up a napkin to wipe his mouth. “I try to leave most of that stuff to Ryman, though he makes me do my fair share of the boring work.”
“You two are full partners?”
“We are, but Ryman started the agency so it’s only fair we keep it in his name. I left the Navy around four years ago and started working for him. When he was looking for an investor to expand, I thought what the hell. Between my savings and a business loan I was able to join him.”
Marc had suspected there was military discipline in Jason’s background.
He pushed the second cookie across to him. “Have that. I’m not hungry anymore.”
Jason looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes. “Only if you’re sure.”
“Take it.”
He didn’t need any further encouragement. Marc waited for him to finish. He tried not to stare, but he enjoyed watching Jason eat.
When was done he wiped his mouth and fingers. “I’m not usually a fan of sweet treats, but those are amazing.” He took another drink of coffee to clear his mouth. “Now, I really need to tell you about what you came here for.” Jason removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Marc was drawn to his strong forearms and hands and suddenly imagined those hands roaming over his body .
As much as he wanted an update, Marc didn’t want business talk to spoil the light, fun moment they were sharing. Get a grip, Glass. You’re paying him to find out what happened to Theo, not to sit there looking handsome for you to gawp over.
“What have you got?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure there’s something to be learnt from Soloman Archer. It might not be what we’re hoping for, but the people at his office guard him like lions. He’s got this PA called Chantelle and nothing will get past her without approval.”
“Is that so unusual? He’s an MP after all. They must hear from all kinds of nutters on a daily basis. It will be her job to protect him from them.”
“True, but when I mentioned your brother’s name, she knew who I was talking about.”
“So, you’ve been to his office? Or did you talk to her on the phone?”
Jason told him what had happened when he’d called to see Soloman Archer. How the MP was out of town and his staff had blocked all attempts to speak with him. “She hid it well, Chantelle. When I mentioned Theo’s name she was stoney-faced, but I saw the flicker of recognition. She knew who he was. Which means she’s hiding something on behalf of her boss. Which means it’s highly likely that your brother wasn’t just bragging when he told you he had a relationship with Soloman Archer. I just don’t have any proof yet.”
Marc nodded. He reached under the table and produced a laptop, an iPad and a notebook from his briefcase. “You might find something in these. I should have brought them in at the start of the investigation, but I didn’t know whether you would take the case then. Theo’s passwords are all written down in the back of the book. I’ve highlighted the ones you need to gain access.”
“Have you looked through these yourself?”
“Only briefly. I’ve told you before, I don’t really want to watch my brother’s sex tapes.”
“Not a problem,” Jason said. He lifted all three and slid them into his leather satchel. “I’ll go through them and see what they can tell us. Your brother wasn’t stupid. I’m sure he’ll have protected himself with some kind of evidence.”
It was a relief to hear Jason talk about Theo in such an open and matter-of-fact way, without judgement. Marc struggled to admit it, but he was ashamed of what his brother had been doing when he was alive. Marc hadn’t been involved in the celebrity circuit in years, but it would reflect badly on him if it all came out. He hated himself for feeling that way. Theo was dead, he shouldn’t hold a grudge against him now, but he couldn’t stop that needling little voice that said it would destroy his reputation.
“Probably the biggest breakthrough I’ve had so far is with the men Theo shot his adult content with,” Jason said. “I reached out to a bunch on the night after our meeting, and I’ve heard back from four so far. One of them lives right here in Blyham and has agreed to talk to me. Tonight.” He took out his phone, pulled up a photo, and handed it to Marc.
It showed a very good-looking black man in his late twenties with a great smile.
“That’s Dan,” Jason continued. “He uses the name Cummer X when he’s making sexual content. He’s got a Hot-4-Fans account of his own and would frequently team up with Theo to shoot videos. They would share the costs of filming and editing and then post the clips on their respective accounts.”
Marc stared at the picture and nodded. He was na?ve when it came to all this stuff. He’d never subscribed to any of the online sex sites. He didn’t even have any personal social media accounts. When it came to watching porn, he was old-school, and opted for the stash of DVDs he and Jack had collected over the years, the most recent of which was probably ten years old.
“He manages a gym in the West End of the city,” Jason went on. “The whole content creation thing is just a side hustle. Why not, eh? When you’re in a job that keeps your body in peak condition, might as well make a little something on the side.”
That was one way of looking at it. “How long did he know Theo?”
“They were working together for the best part of a year before Theo’s death. They always used the same cameraman and editor too. Dan is going to give me his contact details.”
“What else has he told you?”
“Very little. I spoke to him for around two minutes this afternoon when he was on a break. I’ve arranged to meet him tonight when he finishes his shift. He’ll be able to tell me a lot more then.”
“Did you mention Soloman Archer?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He said he’d tell me about him later.”
Marc gazed at the image again. Dan looked like any regular guy. His smile was friendly. His eyes were warm. Maybe he and Theo could have made a good couple. They could have sorted their lives out and made each other happy without the escorting and adult films.
“I want to come with you,” he said, returning the phone.
“Not a good idea.”
“I don’t care. He’s the first person who knows anything about Theo’s private life. I want to hear what he has to say for myself.”
“He’s only expecting me. He might clam up or not talk at all if there’s someone with me.”
“It’s a chance we’ll have to take, because I’m coming.”
* * * *
Jason wasn’t happy with the idea, but Marc had insisted. He was due to meet Dan at ten-fifteen, after the gym closed. Jason gave Marc his home address and told him to pick him up just before ten.
With time to kill, Marc hung around the concert hall until it began to fill up with music-lovers for the evening show. He drove across the river and went for a quiet dinner at Chez Michelle’s, a reliable café bar in the centre of the city, where he often dined with his parents. He paid little attention to what he ate. His mind was a mess of information, making wild connections about his brother and what he might have been involved with. He doubted the wisdom of what he was doing. Could anything be gained by digging into Theo’s past like this? Maybe he should have left it all to Nadine Smythe. She’d likely have her story already. Jason had tracked Dan down quickly enough. There was a good chance Nadine had spoken to him already .
Later, he collected Jason from a modern apartment building on the river side. Not the kind of place he’d have thought he would live in. What had he expected? A seedy flat with a vermin problem and leaking roof, like some down-at-heel detective in an old movie? Marc was starting to realise that his reflections on the world were from another era.
Heavy rain pelted the roof of the car as he pulled up outside. Jason hurried from beneath the canopy of his building and dived into the passenger seat. He’d changed into jeans and a bomber jacket. His hair was soaked when he closed the door. He raked his fingers through it, pushing it back from his brow.
“Another shitty night,” he commented. “I thought we were going to get a break from the rain for just one day.”
“No such luck,” Marc said, pulling into the traffic. “Where are we going?”
Jason gave the directions. Blyham was a small city, more like Leeds or York than a sprawling metropolis such as London or Birmingham. Though he was unfamiliar with the area, with Jason’s guidance they reached the west side in less than ten minutes. It would have been sooner were it not for the atrocious road system. Marc was certain they changed the one-way routes on a monthly basis. Whenever he came into Blyham, he rarely took the same route twice.
“This is it,” Jason said as they pulled into a narrow street.
They were in the old industrial quarter, a mishmash of warehouses, cheap cafés and wholesalers. The sign above the door for Hammer’s gym didn’t inspire confidence. The windows were blacked out, but Marc already had an image of bare wooden floors, boxing bags and basic free weights. This was not the kind of air-conditioned, well-equipped gym he was used to at the local leisure centres and hotels.
“He told me it was rough,” Jason said, as though reading his mind. “I suspected as much, given where we are.”
“Do you think he’s on the level?” Considering the exterior of the building, Marc suspected the kind of man who worked here had to be some kind of hustler.
“He was sincere enough on the phone. I’ll have a better idea when I speak to him face to face, but he seemed to have a genuine affection for your brother. I think they were good friends.”
Good friends who happened to fuck each other on camera .
Marc chastened himself. He had to get over these starchy opinions he had of sex workers.
He had parked right in front. Jason jumped out and rushed through the rain to get inside. Marc followed him quickly.
First impressions lived up to his suspicions. The interior must have been a warehouse space at some point, and little had changed. The floors were covered in cheap board, giving a strong odour of woodchip and damp. The equipment looked ancient. Lots of plastic-covered benches with free weights and iron racks beside them. There were three treadmills against one wall, two of which were hung with ‘Out of Order’ signs. A couple of rickety-looking cycling machines and a boxing bag in the far corner completed the inventory of gym gear.
He was already suspicious that the real business behind this front was a supply in steroids and under-the-counter supplements .
A mop and red plastic bucket had been abandoned at the top end of the room. A quarter of the floor was wet around it, accounting for some of the damp smell.
“Hello,” Jason hollered. His voice was clear and commanding in the austere surroundings. “Hello, Dan? It’s Jason Durham, we spoke on the phone earlier.”
There was no reply.
“The door was unlocked,” Marc said. “He must have been expecting you.”
“Must be out the back.” They progressed across the floor and Jason called out again. Still no answer.
Marc wondered why he had insisted on coming. Investigation work was not like in the films. There was clearly a lot of time wasted in pursuit of dead-ends. He should have left this to the professional and focused on his own business.
Apart from their feet on the wooden boards, the place was silent.
“Maybe he’s at the toilet,” Marc suggested.
Jason took out his phone and dialled.
Marc jumped when he heard a loud ringing from the top of the room, from beyond an open door. Jason headed straight in that direction, and he followed. There was something purposeful and determined about Jason’s movements.
They followed the ringing into a small storeroom. The shelves were stacked with towels, enormous bottles of vitamins and spare equipment. Marc was so busy taking it in that he walked straight into Jason’s back, not realising he had stopped.
“What’s the ma—”
The first thing he noticed was the blood. It covered the floor in a wide slick.
He followed its trail .
A man lay slumped against the shelves, his legs splayed in front of him. His head hung at an awkward angle. His black skin had taken on an ashy-grey hue. The front of his once-white T-shirt was a sodden, maroon-coloured mess.
“Oh, my God.” Marc’s voice sounded blank in his own ears. For a second he doubted that what he was looking at was real. That this moment was even happening.
But the wetness and the smell brought it all back into focus.
This was no hallucination. It was devastatingly real.