Chapter 18

ZACHARY’S E-READER dropped to his lap, and he realized once again that he had lost the thread and momentarily nodded off. Truth to tell, he was bored in his apartment.

The last two weeks, he and Sam had gotten together for dinner and a little fooling around almost every evening that Zachary wasn’t working at Rainbow Space. The Star Trek marathon that Sam had suggested for the teenagers was a hit, though Sam himself had to beg off at the last minute for a business trip. When Sam returned to town, though, the absence seemed to have prepared him to go a little further. Their make-out sessions got hotter, even if they were still fully clothed, and Zachary thought he might want to push the envelope a bit and try to get Sam horizontal so he could explore that nice, lean body he felt under the expensive shirts and trousers.

Not that night, though, since Sam was on another business trip for a few days to help a client with something IT related. Zachary didn’t know if Sam sold them software or set up systems for them or something else techy. Whatever. When Sam was in DC, the job gave him a lot of flexibility and, from the looks of his apartment, was quite lucrative.

Zachary was enjoying Sam’s company, but it surprised him that, left to himself for a few nights, he wasn’t sure how to keep himself busy. He called Vic about stopping by the shelter, but Vic said there was nothing going on that needed Zachary’s help and he should go out and enjoy the early May weather.

So Zachary tried but failed yet again to get into a book he had downloaded onto his Kindle. He finally tossed it aside in disgust and flipped channels on the TV, but he paused no longer than a few seconds on each. Soon the remote joined his discarded Kindle. He had already memorized his sheet music for the Gay Men’s Chorus; besides, he didn’t want to think about the chorus because it reminded him of how cold Howard had been since the night of the bad date all those weeks ago. He also didn’t want to call his parents and face yet another grilling on whether he had met any nice girls at the fictitious church he told them he attended.

At eight o’clock Zachary gave up on trying to amuse himself and headed for the Metro into DC, just to be around people. It had been several weeks since he’d been to Mata Hari, and he was ready to risk facing Thomas.

I hope.

At the bar he scanned the good-sized crowd as he removed his light jacket and stored it with the coat check. No sign of Thomas, which made him feel simultaneously relieved and disappointed. No Joe, no Terry, but Miss Ethel was at the piano.

Randy gave a slight grin when he spotted Zachary at the bar. Without asking he poured a seven and seven and slid it toward Zachary. “Hey, kid. Haven’t seen you around much in a while,” he said.

“Ah, you know. I’ve been trying to get the feel of the city,” Zachary said as he took a sip. “But this is still my favorite bar. I missed hearing Miss Ethel play.”

“Yeah, she was a good hire. Thomas was right about that one.” Randy rapped his knuckles twice and started to turn away. Zachary couldn’t help himself from taking the door Randy had opened.

“He’s not around tonight, huh?” he asked, knowing he was transparent as all hell. “I haven’t seen him for a few weeks. How’s he been?”

Randy stared at him for a minute. “Good, I think. He hasn’t been in much these last few weeks either.”

Zachary couldn’t let it go. “Oh? I thought this was his main hangout.”

Randy shrugged. “Used to be. Probably still is. He just needed a change. Anyway, he’s in Geneva this week for a conference on some environmental shit, so he won’t be around till the weekend, I figure.”

Zachary sipped his drink. Randy apparently decided the conversation was over, so he moved on to tend some other customers, and Zachary took himself to the piano to enjoy Miss Ethel’s playing.

“Hey, sugar,” she said. “I thought you forgot about me.”

“No way,” Zachary said with a smile. “I’ve been a little busy, but no one does Nina Simone like you. I needed a fix.”

She chuckled a bit. “Do you play, sugar?” she asked.

“A little. Nothing like you, but I’ve studied some.”

“Any four-handers?” Zachary named some Debussy and Fauré pieces, and she nodded.

“I know the Fauré. Come sit by me, sugar. Let’s give it a try.”

“Randy won’t mind? It’s a bit more, uh, formal than you usually play.”

“Let’s give these gents some class. What d’you say?” she prompted, and Zachary slid onto the piano bench next to her.

It took him a minute to warm up, but soon their hands were gliding through a few movements from the Dolly suite. When they finished they received some nice applause. A few people came to the piano to add to Miss Ethel’s tip bowl.

“That was real nice, hon. I think I’m going to take my break now,” she said.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Zachary asked.

“Well, why not?”

Ethel and Zachary made their way to the bar. “That was impressive, kid,” Randy murmured as he served them. “I had no idea you could play.”

“Thanks. Miss Ethel was covering up my mistakes, though. She made me sound much better than I actually am.” Zachary clinked glasses with her as she laughed.

They talked for a bit about the four different regular gigs Miss Ethel worked, and then she returned to the piano for another set. Zachary stayed at the bar but turned to listen to her play.

He was surprised when Randy said behind him, “Too bad Thomas wasn’t here for your performance. He’s really into music. On the board of a performing arts center in Maryland. Stuff like that. He’d be impressed.”

Zachary turned to face him, surprised not only about the information regarding Thomas, but that it came from Randy. “That’s really interesting. I didn’t know he was a music lover, but then, I don’t know much about Thomas personally.”

“Not many people do. He’s a good friend, but you can see why he has trouble making new ones.”

Zachary’s heart beat staccato as he looked at his drink. “I said I’d try to be his friend,” he confessed, “but I don’t think I can really do that.”

He sensed Randy nodding. “I hear ya, Zachary,” he sighed. “Thomas is complicated. He’s got a lot of issues, and they’re not for me to explain.”

Zachary was annoyed to feel his eyes burn, and he couldn’t help lashing out a bit as he looked up. “After the second time we got together, I hoped I’d hear from him, even knowing about these mysterious issues and rules.” Even after hearing I was a fuck-and-chuck. “What was I going to do, though, when he didn’t call? Stalk him?”

Randy reeled back a bit, clearly surprised at the word. Zachary wasn’t sure why. It was just something people said.

“Anyway I’m seeing someone else now,” he continued. “We’ve been going out for about a month. He actually talks to me.”

“Why haven’t you brought him in yet?” Randy’s mouth twisted into a wry grin. “Oh. Because of Thomas.”

“Sort of. I didn’t think I could handle watching Thomas leave with a man,” Zachary confessed. “So I wanted to make sure I was in a good space before subjecting myself to that.”

“I hear ya. Anyway, good for you. Who’s the new guy?”

“Sam? He’s an IT consultant, whatever that means. He’s a bit nerdy, like me. He likes Star Wars and superhero movies.”

“Looker?”

“Well, I think so. Here. I have a picture from when we went to see Civil War a few weeks ago.” Zachary pulled out his cell phone and opened up his photo app. He flicked through, paused, and then flicked in the other direction.

“That’s odd.” He frowned. “I remember taking the selfie when we were standing in line, and I showed it to Sam later.”

Randy shrugged. “Technology and I aren’t exactly friends either. Maybe it’s lost in the clouds, whatever the fuck that means.” He turned to serve a customer.

Zachary swiped through his photo album as he muttered, “I admit I’m no techie, but really, this makes no sense. Here’re the pics from the following week, when I ran a bunch of Star Trek movies for kids at the shelter.” He smiled at a pic of Jamayqua and Joe laughing together as they ate popcorn out of a huge bowl. “And here’s an older one….”

The picture he had swiped up was more than a month old. It showed Thomas alone at the bar the night Zachary came in drunk with Howard and ended up back in Thomas’s bed. He had forgotten he had that picture, and he felt like he was betraying Sam to even be looking at it because the image evoked a churn in his gut.

He swiped again a few times, angry at himself, and then came across the pic Randy had taken of Thomas and Zachary together at the bar the very first time Zachary wandered in—the night he went home with Thomas, all excited about possibilities.

The picture was a good one. It showed Thomas’s handsome face, intelligent eyes, and white smile. Zachary admitted privately that he looked pretty cute too with his head tilted toward Thomas. In the background he could see the piano and a bit of Miss Ethel’s shoulder, along with a man with shaggy blond hair who wore what appeared to be wire-framed glasses. The man in the background was looking right at their backs, so the camera flash had reflected off his lenses.

Huh, that was funny.

Zachary swiped back to the pic of Thomas alone at the bar some weeks later. He used his fingers to enlarge the picture slightly, and there it was again—the glint of camera flash off glasses. The same man with blond shaggy hair was standing against the wall, looking directly past Thomas at Zachary’s camera.

“Hey, Randy,” Zachary called out. “Does this strike you as peculiar?”

Randy came back and leaned over the counter as Zachary showed him the two pictures on his phone. “Look, these were taken more than a month apart, but both times this guy happened to be right in the camera sight and looking straight at me. Do you know who he is?”

Randy frowned as he took the phone out of Zachary’s hands. He enlarged each photo as much as the image allowed and squinted his eyes. “It couldn’t be,” Randy muttered to himself. “Could it?” He looked up to see Zachary watching him closely, and he said, “I don’t know who it is, kid. I think I remember him because of that bad haircut. Came in a few times, starting around the time that Gallagher—” He stood straight. “Can you forward those to me, Zachary?”

“Sure, but why?” Zachary opened a message and typed in the e-mail address Randy gave him.

“I’m probably crazy. I just think I’m going to show these to someone I know. See if—well, never mind.”

Zachary didn’t buy the way Randy tried to brush him off. Something was up, but getting it out of him was beyond Zachary’s abilities.

“Another drink?” Randy asked.

Zachary put away his phone and stood up. “No, thanks. I’d better get home. It’s a work night.”

AS SOON as the bar closed down, Randy went to his office and called up the message Zachary had sent to him with the two pictures attached. He opened the browser on his computer monitor and did what he could to maximize the images and focus on the man in the background. He could tell the glasses had silver-colored frames, but the flash that reflected off the lenses obscured enough of the face that he couldn’t see the features clearly. But what he could see worried him. His instincts told him it was important.

Years in federal law enforcement had produced a certain snobbery about the MPD’s capabilities, but it was Torres’s investigation, and she needed to be told, even if he was completely wrong. It was after two thirty in the morning, though, so when he found her card in his desk drawer, he just fired off a text.

This is Randy Vaughan at Mata Hari. Possible lead I’d like to discuss with you.

His phone rang seconds later and startled him into nearly dropping it. He connected and said, “I didn’t expect to get you tonight, Detective.”

Torres sounded exhausted. “I have a case review with my captain tomorrow. Shit, today. What do you have for me?”

Randy explained about the two photos. “Look, this may be nothing. I do have a lot of regulars, so it’s not that surprising two pictures would show the same person in the background. But in both cases, he was near Thomas, and in both he was looking right at the camera, which tells me he was looking at Thomas.”

“Or at the other customer, this Zachary Hall,” she commented, and Randy’s blood ran cold. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Mr. Vaughan. I get that this may be nothing, but you have more years of experience than I do. I’d like to hear from you.”

“Thank you for making me feel old,” he growled. “Okay. This is crazy, but there’s something about the face in these pictures that reminds me of Charles Rumson.”