By the time he heard his friend’s footsteps out in the hall of the Shaker Square apartment building, Levi had already amassed a pretty good pile of information on this new lead. David would be pleased, a reaction that always gave Levi a boost.
As for his apartment, it was nice enough, if on the small side — modest living room, one bedroom, half kitchen, fair rent, and no bugs, though calling the walls paper-thin wasn’t as much an exaggeration as you might think. Good thing Levi liked his neighbors, that lesbian couple next door — in addition to friendly if quick conversations in the hall, he knew what TV shows they watched, what music they liked, what they argued about, and sometimes, deep into the evening, heard sounds that reminded him he hadn’t had a date in a very long while...
Life for a single gay guy in Cleveland wasn’t always easy. But in Ashtabula, it would have been impossible, which was why he stayed in the closet till he moved, which had been right after high school. His parents had saved a little money and there’d been some insurance; still, if some very nice people from the PTA and Planned Parenthood hadn’t raised funds to help him go to college, he would have been shit out of luck.
Leaving Ashtabula when he did gave him guilt pangs, but that little town just wasn’t a place where he could be himself. Where he could grow. He still kept in touch with a few high school pals and some of his parents’ friends who mounted that fund-raising drive; but the honest truth was: first chance he had, he split.
The siren’s call he heeded took him not to France or New York or Hollywood, not even San Francisco, and not very far from home, at that. The ethnically diverse campus of Cleveland State University offered a place where Levi could be openly gay and nobody gave a toss. That wasn’t always true in Cleveland itself, particularly in blue-collar areas, but overall a city that size offered possibilities way beyond what his hometown could offer.
For three years he dug in and worked hard and graduated early. He didn’t find anything in the computer field, but at least he got a job, and quickly, working as a night desk clerk at a Marriott Courtyard. Nothing spectacular, but it paid the bills, and his computer skills had been noted by management. Who knew? Maybe he’d move up in the company.
The printer was spitting out the final page of his research as Levi opened the door for David. The writer wore jeans and a navy polo, dressed up compared to Levi in his ragged Chuck Taylors, jeans, and FREE PUSSY RIOT T-shirt. David lugged a laptop in a shoulder bag.
Moving through the living room with its secondhand array of sofa, three chairs, coffee table, and end tables, David went straight for the kitchen and took a seat at the old Formica table, the other end of which Levi’s laptop, printer, and accessories dominated. This served as Levi’s office (he regularly ate on a TV tray in front of his small flat screen in the living room).
David, unpacking his gear and plugging in, asked, “Find anything?”
“Hmm-hmm. But first, what brought this on? Where’d you come up with this name, anyway?”
“Havoc is somebody I dismissed early on as a suspect. Looks like I may have been hasty.”
The writer told Levi about Detective Mark Pryor’s visit, and their wary exchange of information.
Levi frowned. “So this Pryor guy didn’t really cop to Havoc being his suspect.”
“No,” David admitted. “But he didn’t deny it. And this opens up a whole new area for us — not just Havoc, but his coworkers.”
“Sounds like it’s reopening an old area.”
David’s shrug was elaborate. “Maybe I’m grasping at straws. We haven’t had a glimmer of hope in... how long? Now this Pryor is actively investigating, and we’ve added Jordan Rivera to our team... Maybe, at long last, we’re getting somewhere.”
“That’s great. That’s terrific. But, David, let’s not set ourselves up for another disappointment. This needs to be a methodical process—”
“Skip it,” David said testily. “Show me what you’ve got.”
Levi was gathering the computer printouts when another knock came at the door. Both men turned, David with a nervous start.
“Damn,” David said. “Did that cop follow me?”
“No,” Levi said, “that’ll be Phillip.”
“Yeah?”
Levi was halfway to the door. “I called him after you called me. If we’re going down a new road, even if it’s another blind alley, we can use the company.”
“He does appear to know his stuff,” David said.
Levi opened the door and Phillip paused until Levi gestured him in. As usual, the teacher wore a nicely cut suit, navy blue, with a white shirt, red-and-navy striped tie, and black loafers — a laptop bag slung over his shoulder.
“Welcome to the madhouse,” Levi said as they shook hands.
David came over and held out his hand and the two men shook, with the friendliness of Phillip’s smile making it not quite so ghastly. The plastic surgery repairs to the man’s damaged features had so far worked no wonders.
David said, “Nice of you to come on such short notice, Mr. Traynor.”
Traynor was Phillip’s last name. Before their team meeting at the coffee shop had broken up late this morning, Levi had gathered the basic information — the last name of the support group member as well as his cell phone number.
“Glad to be included,” Phillip said, his breathing clearly audible. “Levi said you had a new name for him to check.”
“That’s right,” David said. “We may have a lead.”
“Splendid,” Phillip said.
Levi led the two men to the kitchen table, where Phillip set up his laptop, as well. Playing host, Levi fetched coffee for Phillip, a Michelob for David (Levi was not a beer drinker but stocked some for his friend), and a Diet Pepsi for himself. Meanwhile, his two guests chatted.
“Well,” David was saying, “I know your last name now, and that you’re a teacher, but the rules of the support group have kept us strangers in many ways. What kind of teaching do you do exactly, Phillip? You do prefer ‘Phillip’ to ‘Phil’?”
“I do prefer Phillip, if that isn’t too pretentious.”
“Not at all. I prefer David to Dave. We’ll be pompous together.”
The two men exchanged smiles.
“Of course,” Phillip said, “I know about you, at least the basics — I believe just about everyone knows David Elkins and his thrillers.”
“I wish that were true. And who knows? Maybe someday I’ll even write another.”
Levi joined them, saying, “Phillip and I spoke on the phone earlier, got to know each other a little. His teaching gig is pretty interesting. Pretty cool.”
Phillip shrugged, as he offered another lipless smile. “I teach online. Levi says he envies me, because my job pays fairly well, yet my time is my own.”
Levi had not been surprised to learn that Phillip’s current teaching did not involve standing before a classroom, not with his compromised countenance.
“Sounds like interesting work,” David said. “What is it you teach?”
“Religion, actually. Of the Judeo-Christian variety.”
“The Bible, then.”
“I offer a course on the Torah, as well. I’m afraid my work is quite mundane compared to writing novels.”
“Plenty of action, sex, and violence in those books,” David said, and sipped his beer.
“Sounds very cool to me,” Levi said. “But then I’m a night clerk at a Marriott. What do I know?”
Levi handed around his stacks of computer printouts. Then David repeated his story about his meeting with the detective.
Phillip was frowning, or at least seemed to be — the face reminiscent of a burn victim made it hard to tell exactly. “Why did you lead Detective... Pryor, is it? Why did you lead Detective Pryor to believe that you had dismissed the possibility that Havoc was a good suspect?”