Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle (94 page)

Accountable

Dan cast his gaze around the bar's interior. Brass fittings, rough-hewn tables, hockey pennants on the walls. It wasn't the sort of place he would expect an accountant to frequent, particularly a gay accountant, but it suited his purpose, which was simply to hear the man's story, offer sympathy for his plight as he quaffed a single beer, then politely tell him to refer the case to the police. Due diligence done. His favour to Donny signed, sealed, and delivered. He'd offered to listen and listen he would. After that, it was out of his hands.

The man who came through the door was dressed in a bulky sweater over a track suit. Nicely muscled forearms and solid chest. Easy on the eyes. More athlete than accountant, Dan decided. Which went a long way toward explaining the casual sports pub atmosphere. He plunked himself down on the bench like a tennis player who had just played a particularly challenging round, winning both game and tournament.

“Hi, I'm Lionel.”

He smelled of cool things, minty and fresh. Dan could imagine running his hands through this man's hair.
Well, you can't blame a guy for trying
.

“Dan.”

They shook and a waiter took their orders.

“Good eye,” Dan said. “How did you spot me so quickly?”

“Charles described you well. I think he might say you're somewhat of a ‘type.'”

“I've heard that before.”

Over in a corner, someone scored a goal on a wide-screen TV and the bar was pandemonium for a moment before settling back into its dull routine of drinking and watching.

Lionel's eyes met Dan's again. The gaze held.

“Thanks for meeting me.” Lionel blushed. “I wasn't sure at first if it was a good idea. I didn't want to involve you and compromise anything to do with your work principles, but Charles insisted I at least hear what you have to say. He seems to think we're all on common ground. Charles isn't the most trusting person, so when he said you were on the level, I took his word for it.”

Dan didn't say that being given the thumbs-up by a lawyer wasn't his measure of a vote of confidence.

“I understand a little about your predicament,” Dan said, “but maybe you could fill in a few gaps. Whatever you're comfortable telling me. I know that some of the things you did for Yuri Malevski may have skirted the bounds of regular accounting practices. I won't pry, but at least be assured you can be as frank with me as you choose.”

Lionel's face showed relief. “Thanks. It makes it easier for me to talk to you just knowing that.”

Dan watched him. In that instant, the breezy athlete was gone and a slightly world-weary accountant with real-life human concerns took his place.

“Since the murder, the police have been snooping around Yuri's accounts, both business and personal. I've been advised by Charles to be truthful in my responses without offering up information that might implicate me in anything questionable.”

“That's a smart stance,” Dan agreed.

The waiter returned with two pints of beer. Dan took a long, satisfying swallow while the hockey game rumbled on overhead.

“At first it was very routine. They wanted to hear the message Yuri left asking to meet when I returned from Mexico. Luckily I still had it on my phone, so I played it for them. Then the questions started. How often did we meet and what did we discuss and were there any unusual payments made by the bar?” Lionel leaned closer. “I told them I was aware Yuri paid for what we euphemistically called ‘security,' but I didn't say that I knew where it went. Technically, I didn't know who or what he paid in that regard. In actuality, we're talking about substantial payoffs to the police to leave the bar alone for various reasons, particularly because of the association it had with drugs.”

“Did Yuri ever ask you to make the payments personally?”

Lionel shook his head. “No. I made it clear from the start that I was not going to doing anything illegal, with or without his express consent. I did, however, make financial transactions at Yuri's request, always in cash, from the bar's profits. I handed them over to someone who, I assume, paid the police directly, but never in my presence.”

“And who was that?”

Here, Lionel's gaze shifted to the far side of the bar, as though he sensed eavesdroppers. The other patrons were so oblivious to anything but the match being played out on the screen that it was hard to imagine anyone's taking an interest in their low-key conversation.

Lionel locked eyes with Dan again. “At first, Yuri had a couple of drug dealers running the money for him, but then one of them got busted and that ended that. Over the last couple years he'd been dating a young Cuban guy. That was who was making the payoffs for him.”

“This was Santiago Suárez?”

“Yes. My part was simply to take a percentage from Saturday night's payroll and give it to Santiago in cash. What he did with it or who he gave it to, I have no idea. I always insisted I didn't want to know.”

“Did you keep records of the payments?”

Lionel nodded. “Yes. Scrupulous records, even detailing the denominations of the bills I used to pay him. The transactions were always listed as ‘security.' Yuri might have passed it off as payment to the regular bouncers the club employed.”

“Did the police inquire directly into those payments?”

Lionel shook his head. “No, not yet at least. They have the records, but you know how it goes when police investigate their own. My feeling is they know what the payments were for and they're trying to see if I know as well.”

“What will you tell them if they ask?”

For the first time, Lionel looked afraid.

“I'm going to tell them I don't know what they were for other than basic payments to ensure the business was run smoothly. Of course, they don't know who took the payments from me.”

“I understand Santiago is an illegal?”

“Yes.”

“Which will make it difficult for him to come forward with what he knows, if anything.”

Lionel nodded.

“Are you worried the police may find something in Yuri's personal financial records that would make things difficult for you?”

Lionel's cheeks expanded and forcefully expelled air.

“A lot of what Yuri did bordered on the illegal. As far as I'm concerned — and Charles has already advised me on this — I was just doing what I was paid to do in a strictly legal capacity. I wasn't there to judge or even snoop around and ask questions. I merely passed money over to one person or another. What those individuals did with the money was between them and Yuri. I made it clear I didn't want to know about drug payments, for instance. Less dangerous for me. It was just easier that way.”

Dan nodded. He had probably done more overtly illegal things in pursuit of his own career activities.

“Money's a funny thing,” Lionel said. “We all use it in various ways to accomplish many things. Much of what Yuri did with his money helped a great many people in need. It's funny that so much of it was made in questionable ways. He was sort of a Robin Hood, as far as the gay community was concerned. I mean, we all knew about the sex and drugs that went through his club. He was well aware of it; in fact he even bene-fited, exacting a percentage from everyone who used his premises for such activities, but he seemed to think it was his duty to use those profits for good.” Lionel looked meaningfully at him. “Whatever may be said of him, I think Yuri Malevski was a hero, not a villain. Everyone in the community turns a blind eye to the goings-on in bars. Yuri chose to embrace it and use it for a positive end. He knew the AIDS community was under-funded for years, long before anyone in government admitted it. I think he chose to do the things he did in order to settle some old scores and balance a few ledgers that were sorely in need of adjusting. We shouldn't judge him for it.”

Dan smiled. “I don't.”

Lionel gave him another of those soulful glances. “I hope you can do something about this. If I told the police what I know I'd be putting myself in jeopardy. Not to mention Charles. It's just …”

His words were drowned out by the racket as another goal was scored. The gaps between real life and its electronic simulacra were not so far apart, Dan thought. There were always going to be winners and losers, no matter what you did or what you tried to avoid.

The commotion died down again. Lionel reached across the table and gripped Dan's forearm. “You see … I feel responsible for what happened to Yuri.”

“How could you be responsible for what happened?”

“I advised him to stop the payments to the police. I thought, what was the worst they could do? Fine him? Close his bar for a week or two? I didn't know it would turn out like this.”

The final words caught in his throat. Dan saw a man who felt a deep accountability for what had happened to his former boss because of a personal conviction aired at the wrong moment. Many of his own clients professed to feeling the same, their lives torn apart by a lie or a harsh word that resulted in the disappearance of a loved one, compounded by the unending grief and guilt that followed.

Lionel released his arm and sat back. “Charles keeps saying I couldn't have known what would happen. He says I should stop being so hard on myself. But that doesn't bring him back, does it?”

Their waiter passed by balancing a tray on his finger tips, looking for all the world like a trained seal. Dan signalled for two more of the same without disturbing Lionel's tale of recrimination. Guilt was a funny animal, he knew. It deserved to have its own cage in the zoo, labelled “Armed and Extremely Dangerous.”

“I went past the bar the other day,” Dan said. “It was being renovated. What's going to happen to it?”

“They'll sell it. Some developer will tear it down and build condos. We could be talking several million in development fees. It's a prime downtown location. A small part of it will go into a fund Yuri set up for his employees. I think he also left a good chunk to Santiago.”

“So the ex-boyfriend benefits, even though they were estranged?”

“The estrangement would probably have been temporary, knowing Yuri. He always had trouble with one person or another, then a week later they'd be on good terms again. He was temperamental. It was just his way.” Lionel smiled wistfully. “The rest goes to charity. He was a very charitable fellow, Yuri. Always looking out for someone else's benefit. There would probably have been a lot more, but a good deal of the profits went to drugs. I used to pad the budget with costs that were in actuality drug payments. He probably spent tens of thousands over the years.”

“What of the people who were in his close circle of friends?”

“Well …” Lionel shrugged. “That depends how you define ‘friends.' Suffice to say Yuri had a lot of hangers-on. A big party crowd followed in his wake like seagulls following a fishing boat. He was a good catch, as they say. He could be pretty indulgent: all-night parties and the like. Charles and I attended a few of them, but they weren't really our crowd. Too many hustlers and drug users. You'd walk in and there'd be people smoking up or giving someone a blow job over in the corner while someone else videotaped it.” He laughed. “It could give you a jolt if you weren't used to it.”

Dan listened with curiosity. Lionel's description of his former boss's personal life was taking on all the drama and outsized proportions of the newspaper headlines that had feasted on the goings-on at his home over the past two months. He was disappointed not to hear a fresh perspective.

“So I guess it's true what we're hearing about his lifestyle.”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Was there anyone in that circle who seemed a little to the left of shady, in your estimation?”

Lionel gave a big, friendly laugh. “Just about all of them on any given day! Do you want me to make a list?” He grew serious. “I didn't make a point of getting to know any of them. It wouldn't have been worthwhile. I'd never have trusted them enough to want to be friends. Yuri seemed not to worry about such things.”

Dan looked up as two fresh pints arrived on the seal's well-balanced tray.

“I've got it,” Lionel said, handing over a twenty rather than a credit card designed to inspire awe.

He was, Dan noted, a quietly attractive man, unlike his flashier husband. His ruminations were interrupted as the air suddenly issued with resounding
boo
s. The game had ended, but not to the satisfaction of everyone in the house.

“Were you familiar with any of the police officers who might have come by the bar to pick up their payments?” Dan asked.

Lionel looked up, amazement written all over his face.

“Wow!” he said. “I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier.”

“What?”

“One of the regulars at Yuri's late-night parties was a police officer. I only found that out when I saw him in uniform by sheer coincidence. About a year ago, Charles and I were in a small accident and he was the first officer on the scene. I don't know if he knew who I was or not. Charles was driving, so my licence wasn't in question, but I never forgot him after that.”

“Do you know his name?”

“Yeah — it was something like Trposki.” He spelled it. “It's one of those scrambled Eastern European names. But he was a
gay
cop. I was shocked to find that out.”

Dan nodded. “There are a few. For the most part they try to stick together. It's pretty hard being out and gay in the police force. From what I understand, you're better off if you don't make an issue of it.”

“I can imagine,” Lionel said. “The world isn't that progressive — not yet, anyway. I'll look on the ticket for the spelling to be sure. I keep everything. I'm a dot the
i
's and cross the
t
's kind of guy. For sure it'll be in a file somewhere.”