Chapter Eleven
Night Life
“Something must have changed since I saw them,” Jason said, shaking his head with a grin. “Do you think they spoke to Archer after my visit the other day and he’s trying a fresh approach?”
“I have no idea,” Marc said.
They were in the back room of The New Inn. Jason had suggested meeting there after work when Marc had called to tell him what had gone down at Archer’s office. It was the first time they’d seen each other since Marc had left in the early hours, two days ago. Jason suspected it might have been awkward when they came face to face again and thought it would be easier over a drink.
“When I spoke to them, Chantelle claimed she’d never heard of Theo. Today, she’s acting like your biggest fan and bending over backwards to keep you happy. That’s a huge difference.”
Marc seemed uncertain. “Maybe she has spoken to Soloman, and he reminded her of Theo’s case. I was thinking on the way over here, if he cares anything about his constituents, he’d know all about the unsolved hit-and-run. He must have told her to be more accommodating the next time they heard from us.”
“Nah. I left my contact details. If they’d made a mistake and wanted to be helpful, one of them could have got in touch. Instead, they waited until you made the next move. They’re hiding something.” Jason finished his pint of ale. It had only lasted a few minutes. Marc had barely touched his own drink. “I’ll just get a top up and I’ll fill you in on what I’ve found out.”
As he waited at the bar, he glanced in Marc’s direction. It was like the other night had never happened. That they hadn’t slept together. Marc acted like they were a client and detective, just like before. It surprised Jason to find he was so wounded by the rejection. It was the right thing to do, he knew that. He’d crossed a professional line by having sex with Marc, and it could never happen again, but still, he couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.
He’d been thinking about it too much.
He hadn’t even washed the bed sheets because he didn’t want to lose Marc’s scent from them.
Maybe when the case is over . For now, he had to focus on doing a good job.
He returned to the table. The place was filling up, but they still had a private corner to themselves.
“What’s the big news then?” Marc asked.
Jason told him about Roaul Bhatt. “Did you know him?”
“No. I feel terrible that I don’t. I don’t know any of Theo’s friends.”
“He was at the funeral but didn’t feel up to saying hello. He sends his best wishes.” Jason told him about Roaul’s relationship with Theo. “They were together for six months or so, but even after they broke up, it sounds like they remained on good terms.”
“Shit. I wish I’d known. Do you think he’ll mind if I reach out to him?”
“Not at all. He contacted me, after all. He seems like a nice guy. But I got three very useful pieces of information from Roaul. The first—he confirmed that Theo was escorting for Soloman Archer. It wasn’t a regular thing, but they got together more than once.”
Marc’s mouth dropped open. “Part of me hoped that Theo had been exaggerating when he told me that.”
“No, it’s true. Which makes Soloman’s sudden willingness to talk even more suspicious, wouldn’t you say. I think he’s got no other motive than to find out how much you know.”
Marc took a long, considered drink. “It’s plausible.”
“The other thing I discovered is that Theo had some kind of incident with one of the photographers he hired. Some guy he used on a regular basis overstepped the boundaries. He tried to tell Theo what to do. Dictate the kind of content he should be making and the guys he collaborated with. Exclusively white, by all accounts.”
“Theo won’t have liked that.”
“According to Roaul, he didn’t. He fired this guy, which makes him another person of interest. Unfortunately, Roaul didn’t know his name, only that he’s based in Blyham.”
“Why didn’t the police look into any of this?”
“They treated the case as a random hit-and-run. They didn’t look any deeper.”
Marc huffed and took another drink. “Do you think you can find him? ”
Jason gave him a reassuring smile. “That’s what you hired me for. Now, the third piece of information Roaul provided might make that easier than I thought. One of the models who frequently worked with Theo also had a disagreement with him over money. It doesn’t sound too serious. Roaul couldn’t tell me anything other than the model’s professional name, Trace Grey. But I’ve had a friend of mine looking into that and he’s come up with the guy’s real name. Tyrone Lucas.”
Marc leaned forward. “Have you spoken to him?”
“Not yet, but I’m hoping to. Roaul thinks this guy works at a club right here in Blyham. I’m going to visit the place later to see what I can find out.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Jason raised his hands. “Whoa. Steady on. Remember what happened last time you insisted on doing that?”
“This is different. You just said it’s a club. What could go wrong in a place like that? It’s going to be full of people anyway.”
Jason gritted his teeth. “Marc, this is not the kind of club you want to visit. Trust me. I can do this on my own and fill you in on what I find. I’ll even call you when I come out, whatever the time.”
Marc shook his head stubbornly. “No. I’ll come with you. You can talk to him, I won’t say anything. I just want to be there.”
“Believe me you don’t. Not in this place.”
Marc sighed. “What are you taking about? What kind of club is it?”
Jason reached for his pint. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of The Viaduct?”
* * * *
Marc went home first as Jason said they couldn’t go to the club until much later. Jason had also warned him about the dress code.
“It changes most nights but, looking at their website, you could be asked to strip to your underpants. Wear something you don’t mind being shown in public,” Jason had said. Adding with a cheeky grin, “No washed-out old briefs.”
Marc hadn’t commented. He wasn’t as na?ve as Jason seemed to take him for. Anyone who was gay in the Blyham area knew about The Viaduct. Marc had never set foot in the place himself, but Theo had taken some delight in telling him all about it. Theo had been a regular at the club since he’d been old enough to get his hands on fake ID.
Marc hurried to put together an overnight bag and used a booking app to secure a room at the Vermont Hotel. This had every indication of being a late night and he didn’t want to end it at Jason’s flat again. The detective was incredibly attractive, but their priority had to be finding out what had happened to his brother. Jason didn’t want to ruin things by falling for the man he’d hired to seek out the truth. They were lucky that they’d been able to write the other night off as a mistake and forget about it. Forget about it? Hardly . Marc doubted he would ever forget that, but they were mature enough to move on without fucking it all up.
He drove straight back to Byham and checked into the hotel. He’d reserved a decent sized executive room with a view of the river. It was Friday night, and the party crowds were already getting rowdy with stag and hen parties staggering between bars.
He showered and put on a pair of well-fitting black briefs with a white logo tastefully etched across the waistband. He doubted they would pass as sexy or sleazy enough for The Viaduct, but they were as far as he was prepared to go. He put on jeans and a crew-necked T-shirt. Again, Jason had warned him to wear something he could strip out of easily should the need arise.
Marc stopped himself from doing a search on the venue and finding out exactly how dodgy the place was and called for a cab instead to take him back to The New Inn where he’d arranged to meet Jason at ten o’clock. He got there twenty minutes early. Marc would normally have felt self-conscious going into a gay pub on his own, but the last few days had knocked down some of the walls he’d built around himself.
He hurried from the taxi, through the rain, and went straight in. It was a lot busier than when they’d been there earlier. The music was loud but hard to hear over the even louder voices of the crowd. He shook the water off his jacket and wiped his fingers through his hair at the door, noticing the appraising glances he received from several of the men around the bar. He hoped no one recognised him and tried to start a conversation. It had been a lot of years since he’d been on TV, but this mostly mature bunch were old enough to remember his era on The Partnership .
He ordered a glass of wine and waited close to the door so Jason would see him as soon as he arrived.
Marc felt hopelessly out of place. Was he too old for this? Going to bars on a Friday night? Not really . It had nothing to do with age. Rowdy night life had never appealed to him. Even when he was younger, he’d been too invested in work. He’d always had a job to get up early for most Saturdays. And even if there wasn’t, he couldn’t bear to waste a morning sleeping off a late night on the town. Jack had been the more sociable partner in their marriage. He was the one who had arranged to meet up with people, who booked all their holidays and made sure Marc had a life outside of work.
Marc had enjoyed it then, because it had made Jack happy. They hadn’t spent a lot of time in the gay village. They weren’t that kind of couple, but came to celebrate Pride most years and Jack had liked to have a big night in the city around his birthday. Without Jack, Marc found little reason to come out.
But without him, there was little reason to stay home either.
That house hadn’t been the same since he died.
You’re getting maudlin. Remember why you’re here.
Theo had been the party boy of the family. He must have got a double share of the fun gene. He’d always known how to enjoy himself.
Marc glanced up as the door opened and was grateful to see Jason. The rain must have got worse in the time he’d been here—Jason’s hair was soaking. He shook his shoulders to dislodge the excess water and wiped the back of his hand across his face.
Marc’s heart beat faster.
Jason saw him and grinned. “Hell of a night we’ve picked for this.” He was wearing a dark bomber jacket, fastened to the neck. “How come you’re not soaked?”
“I got a taxi back here. Let me get you a drink to warm you up.”
“I’ll have a whisky, thanks.”
Marc squeezed his way to the now-crowded bar and ordered another glass of wine for himself and a double for Jason. When he returned, Jason had removed his jacket. He wore a grey T-shirt. The damp had caused his nipples to stiffen, and they stood out proudly beneath the fabric.
Something else stiffened in Marc’s pants too.
He passed him the drink. “I wondered whether you might have gone alone. You didn’t seem keen on me coming along earlier.”
“I’m not,” Jason said, though there was nothing antagonistic in his tone. “I didn’t think you wanted to blur the professional lines any further than we have.”
Fair point . “I don’t.” The words sounded unconvincing, even to himself. Marc was already finding it difficult not to think about Jason’s beautiful, uncut cock and wondering whether it was hard inside his pants. He remembered just how good it had felt inside him. Focus . “I just…want this to move along. I need answers. You sounded confident today that you would get them.”
Jason shrugged. “It’s difficult to know. This might turn out to be a waste of time for both of us.” Then he grinned, displaying that sexy gap-toothed smile. “Though I’m grateful you’re with me after all. When I left the apartment, I realised that I didn’t fancy going to The Viaduct on my own.”
“You’ve been before?”
He sipped the whisky and nodded. “A long time ago. When I first came back to Blyham, I had a few dates with a guy who was a regular. He talked me into going with him.”
“How bad is it?”
“It’s not bad, at all. It’s just intense, and it’s not really what I’m into. I don’t judge anyone who enjoys it. Let’s just say that I wouldn’t choose to go there for any other reason than an investigation.”
“The council keep trying to close it down, right? ”
“They would if they could. But after the botched police work on the Blyham Strangler, they can’t afford to piss off the gay community any more than they have. I’ve no doubt it will be back on the agenda soon enough. Once they think the dust has settled.” He emptied his glass. “I really don’t think it’s your kind of place though. It shouldn’t take me long to find our guy and speak to him. If you want to wait here, I could be back within an hour.”
“No,” Marc said, with more force than he intended. “I asked for this and want to come with you.”
“Okay,” Jason said, reaching for his coat. “We might as well get started.” Then he put his hand on Marc’s arm and added, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”