Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle (62 page)

Dan hung up, feeling he hadn’t done much to console his friend, but knowing that he would feel much the same in Donny’s shoes. There could be no words to console him right now.

The machine’s final message was from Domingo. Would Dan be free for lunch any time in the next couple days?

Yes
, he thought.
I would
.

Twelve

The Maharajah’s Plate

Tucked away on the northeast corner of Hayden Street, just south of Bloor, The Bishop and the Belcher was Domingo’s favourite downtown hangout. In winter it was a cosy, curl-up-by-the-fire-and-indulge sort of place; in summer it had the regulation outdoor patio, replete with loud straights who thought coming to the edge of the gay ghetto was a lark. The joke was on them because the place was gay-owned and -operated.
Just look for the inverted rainbow triangle on the front door
, Dan wanted to tell them.
Better than a smear of lamb’s blood to the ancient Hebrews
. The B & B was
vrai gay
, just not as gauche as its way-downtown sister and brother hangouts like Slack’s and Woody’s. With fewer drag queens and no hustlers to speak of,
it boasted the best pub menu on the strip, including some of the tastiest curries this side of Sri Lanka.

By the time Dan arrived, Domingo was on her third fancy drink, replete with paper umbrellas and fruit chachka. She looked up, smacked her blood red lips and flashed a dazzling smile.

“Hello, gorgeous, how are you?”

Dan sat, bathing in the glow of her vibrancy. It was hard to believe she’d undergone chemotherapy recently.

“Great, thanks. It’s great to see you. How are you?”

She lifted her glass in salute. “As you see. Alive and well and enjoying every minute of life.”

“As it should be.”

A waiter swooped down on the table. After a quick perusal of the specials, Dan settled on the Maharajah’s Plate while Domingo ordered the Pulled Pork Lettuce Wrap. They handed their menus over to the waiter. Domingo took another sip through her twisty straw.

“How’s the new man?”

“Perfect in every way.”

“Except?”

Dan felt himself falter. She was watching him, doing that thing he hated.

“Why do you ask? Is your intuition telling you something?”

She smiled and shook her head. “No. I can see it in your eyes. Perfect in every way, but?”

Dan shrugged. “Except he’s not sure he likes it here. He’s not a city boy.”

She put down her glass. “You certainly seemed content together. He adores you, I can tell. I’m glad to see you with someone who appreciates you.”

“Thank you.”

She looked at the high-rise condos around them. Well detailed, handsomely constructed. This was a city of clean lines and easy propriety. A genteel people lived here. “Besides, what’s not to like? I always forget what an attractive city this is. Clean. Safe.”

“We could do more.”

She leaned her chin on her hand and smiled indulgently. “It’s not for everybody, but on the whole I think we’re a good people.”

Dan shrugged. “Is that enough? Shouldn’t we be good
for
something?”

She looked at him in surprise. “Why so down on the hometown?”

“Just a hang-up I have about complacency. What’s the use of being polite, if all we can do is feel smug about it?”

“I know other countries look down on us. We’re not cool. They think we’re naïve and lacking in culture. I’d say the world is conflicted — they look down on us, but they envy our freedom, our natural beauty, our spacious living, our racial integration. And the great thing about it, if you’ve noticed, is that we don’t care what they think.”

Dan laughed. “How true.”

“Plus, it keeps out the riff-raff. That’s what I love about Canada. So what if we’re a weird combination of naïve and smug? At least we don’t go around invading other nations and lying about our reasons for doing it, like some countries I could name.”

She made a coy face and Dan laughed.

“Americans aren’t so worldly, either. They lived in their isolationist bubble for so long, insulated by television and dreaming that life was a theme park designed by Walt Disney, till they had a rude awakening a while back. Now they’re tearing themselves apart, half of them fighting to keep their delusions while the other half wants to point out the warts on the witch’s nose. Both sides blame the other for all their problems.”

Domingo ran a hand through that shock of white hair. She was right, Dan thought. There were worse things than a naïve populace.

“I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you the other night. I’m sorry to hear what you went through.”

“Thanks, but I try not to dwell on it. There’s nothing so humbling as looking at a shadow on an X-ray, knowing something is growing inside you. Women’s bodies are funny. We grow babies who grow up and die and we grow lumps in our breasts that feed those babies, and they kill us. I had such beautiful breasts, round and firm, like polished melons. They gleamed in the moonlight, Adi used to tell me.”

She picked up her drink then set it back down.

“But there’s no sense in dwelling on that, either.” She nodded. “Adi’s been a pillar. A true rock. I couldn’t ask for more from her. I really couldn’t.”

She waved her arms in the air, as if to make the topic vanish. Their server returned and set their plates nimbly on the table. Cutlery followed, wrapped in paper napkins as though they’d been embalmed.

Domingo took a bite, sighed, and looked up.
“I swear someone’s been stealing my mother’s recipes. It doesn’t get much better than this.”

Dan speared a shrimp with his fork. He tasted and nodded. “I hope they keep this cook a long, long time. A good curry chef is hard to find.”

Domingo looked across the table at him. “So what else is new in your life?”

Dan nodded. “Well, apart from the boyfriend, who you’ll be glad to know is putting me through my paces, we also have a housing project on the go.”

Domingo looked impressed. “Do tell.”

“Not much to tell yet. It’s a townhouse in Corktown.”

“Ooh, Corktown! How swank.”

“Trevor’s designing the interior. It’s costing a fortune, apart from the architecture plans, which are his contribution. It’s not going to be ready for another month. I just wish he’d commit to living here.”

“What’s stopping him?”

“He’s had a hard time. His ex-lover killed himself. It took Trevor a long time to get over it. The city makes him edgy. He prefers solitude. He lived on an island in BC for the last ten years.”

“That’s rough.” Domingo nodded. “It’s so easy to get lost in life, and so hard to get found again.” She smiled. “Not you, though. You go on your straightforward route, dead ahead, for good or for bad, just as if there was no other way.”

“I don’t really think about it. It’s not as though we have a choice.”

She shook her head. “But the rest of us aren’t like that, Daniel. The rest of us live life without a road map, for the most part. It’s not as easy for us.”

“You think it’s easy for me?”

“Not really. But you just seem so sure of yourself. It’s part of your charm. I’m just not sure you realize that others don’t find the choices in life so easy to make.”

Dan shrugged. “Anyway, I just wish he could decide.”

“He will. Just be patient. Otherwise, if you rush it, you will regret it, thinking you never gave him the time to figure things out for himself.”

“But what will he decide?”

“You don’t need me to tell you.” She smiled. “You already know how it will go.”

“I guess I’ll have to wait and see then.” Dan wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I wanted to tell you that you were right about what you said the other night. The case, I mean. It isn’t over yet and I am getting involved. Exactly as you said I would.”

“So are you a believer now?”

Dan shrugged, not ready to commit to one side or the other. “I’m not sure. I’m trying to be open-minded. I already did some investigating into this in the past.”

“Really? You surprise me. You were so against it when I lived beside you.”

“It’s not that I doubted you. It’s just that I’ve never heard of a crime being stopped by a psychic premonition.”

“Oh, Dan.” She looked sadly at him. “I thought you understood. It’s not about stopping things. Sometimes you can gain insight, but you can’t change the course of events. Not if it’s meant to be. What you can change is your reaction to what is to come. Be a better person, that sort of thing. Don’t worry, though, you don’t need improving. I think your positives are all in the right place. For a non-believer.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe, it’s that I don’t understand. And that makes me a tad suspicious of any claims.”

“I don’t like claims either. Just take what comes and be the best person you can. That way there are no regrets, no matter what happens.”

She smiled and took another drink through the plastic curlicue protruding from her glass.

“Oh, by the way. I have a new client,” he said.

“Who is it?”

“Well, before I tell you, I was kind of hoping you might take a look and tell me what you come up with.”

She smiled. “Really? You’re actually asking me to look into something for you on the other side?”

“Not some
thing
. Some
one
. I’m just curious to know what you see.”

She smiled. “Well, you have changed.”

“Are you up to it?”

“I’m always up to it, baby.”

She put down her fork, took a big sip from her glass then closed her eyes.

“I see a bright light. It’s like a star or something. Your client must be very important, whoever it is.”

Dan let out a whoop. “Domingo, I now believe in you forever.”

She opened her eyes. “Did I say something right?”

“Bang on. Can you tell me if he’s a good person?”

She looked quizzically at him. “Good?”

“Trustworthy, I guess I mean.”

She closed her eyes and got silent again for a moment. “Well, he’s complex, that’s for sure. The only thing is, the light goes out if I watch it too long.”

“As in?”

“Extinction.”

Dan studied her face. “That doesn’t sound good. What’s the source of the extinction?”

There was a long pause. “It comes from the self. It’s some sort of auto-extinction.”

Dan frowned. “As in suicide?”

Her eyes were still closed. Domingo seemed to be concentrating harder. “I don’t think so. It seems to be some form of
indulgence
, I want to call it.”

Dan thought of Jags’ tendency to drink till he passed out. “Like drugs or alcohol?”

There was a pause while she consulted some inner realm. “I don’t know. It seems to come and go. It’s there then it’s out then it’s there again. The light, I mean.”

She opened her eyes.

Dan was staring at her. “Any idea what that means?”

“None at all. Except that your client needs to take care it doesn’t become permanent.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“So who is this client? I’m curious.”

“Jags Rohmer.”

“You’re kidding!”

“Domingo, you know me well enough by now to know that I never kid.”

She laughed. “True enough. What’s he like?”

“He doesn’t have a clue what reality is. He says he just wants a normal life.”

Domingo almost choked. “Well, here’s to rock star clients.” She took another drink then looked over at Dan. “Shall we have a more mundane conversation now?”

Dan smiled. “Sure, and thanks for the input.”

“No problem.” She paused. “I’m worried about Donny. Or, more precisely, I’m worried about how Donny is reacting to Lester’s departure. Is there anything we can do, do you think?”

Dan looked across the road at a cyclist weaving in and out among the cars, a handful of pedestrians talking on cellphones, gesticulating and looking as though they had no idea where they were.

His gaze returned to Domingo’s face. “I’m concerned about Donny and Lester too. As you know, I introduced them. I thought I was doing Lester a favour at the time, but I soon learned it was just as big a deal to Donny, which was why he agreed to keep the boy. Who knew he saw himself as a father?”

She smiled. “I knew.”

“The kid spent time on the streets. He had it worse than some, but not as bad as others. He told me a story of being raped by an older man he lived with, though he has since tested HIV-negative. He was on the streets for a relatively short time and I think he’s been thoroughly rehabilitated, to use the clinical term, largely due to Donny’s influence and care.”

“Amen to that,” Domingo interjected.

“He’s very protective of the boy and also strict with him, in a good way. The difference between what Donny does and what Lester’s mother does is that Donny does it for Lester’s own good. My guess is that his mother is just trying to mould him for her own ends.”

“She sounds like a rotten parent.”

Dan set down his fork. “They both are. I was his caseworker and I met with them just once.”

Dan recalled a mohair sweater, fuchsia pink fingernails filed down to a point and tapping incessantly on his desktop as she demanded he find her son. Lester’s stepfather was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of having a gay son in the house and wanted nothing to do with the boy.

“I found him and dragged him out of the gutter. At the time he was involved in making porn videos and selling himself on the street. It didn’t take me long to realize he didn’t want to be there, either. He just didn’t want to be sent home to a manipulative mother and an abusive stepfather. I guess those memories must have faded a bit, if he thought he would be okay to go home. Nevertheless, he made his choice.”

“Everyone is allowed a change of mind.”

“Oh, I agree wholeheartedly. What I don’t agree with is the idea that Donny might become implicated in separating a minor from his family, however horrible they may be. So, to return to your original question, yes, I do think something can be done. I just haven’t had the time to figure out what.”

“Who was the man who raped him? Was he caught?”

“No. And he’s resurfaced, making matters worse. It’s one of the reasons Lester wanted to leave the city. Lester told me they lived together for a short while. He provided for the kid. Everyone thought they were father and son. They even went to church together, apparently.”