The Double Vice: The 1st Hidden Gotham Novel by Chris Holcombe (ebook reader for laptop .TXT) 📗

packing. I wanted to know where he was going. That’s when he told me about Paris, about him and Karl going together. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Him and Karl? In Paris? As a couple? I begged him. Begged him.”

Paul dropped his head and lowered his voice.

“He wouldn’t listen. He said he loved that, that boy. Loved him! Can you imagine? After all we’d been through together. After all the times I . . .” He swallowed hard. “The next thing I knew, the ashtray was in my hand.”

There it was. The confession. In front of two witnesses. Dash looked to Joe, whose face was locked in a grimace.

After a moment, Dash said, “And then you moved the body to the alleyway using the room service cart. That’s how you truly lost your keys. Not in leaving my club but while moving him.”

Paul was silently weeping now. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted him—I just wanted him to stay. Why didn’t he? Why didn’t he want to stay? With me?”

The unspoken answer hung above the room like a cigarette cloud.

“After that, I didn’t have time to get the ledger. I ran to the club and pretended everything was fine. When Walter showed up and started fighting you, I hid in the bathroom with Karl.”

“That’s where you told him Tyler no longer wanted to see him.” Dash turned to Joe. “That’s why he was so upset and panicked.”

Paul snorted. “Please. He didn’t deserve Tyler’s love. Given what he’d done with his despicable brother—”

Joe interrupted, “He was helping ya put his own flesh and blood in jail. That should count for something.”

“Not enough! It wasn’t enough. He hadn’t earned redemption in my eyes.”

Dash said, “So you decided to break his heart.”

“No,” Paul replied. “That was just a happy accident. I didn’t want him going to the Shelton and starting trouble by asking about a dead man.”

“Why not? Seems to me, you could’ve easily framed him for murder.” As soon as Dash said the words, he understood. “The ledger. You didn’t get it the first time, being too distracted by Tyler’s packing. You needed to search his room once more.”

Paul nodded. “I couldn’t have them looking for a tenant. Not yet, at any rate. If they found his body, they’d seal off the room. I got called away Monday to a job site and couldn’t break away. I was a nervous wreck, hoping they wouldn’t find him. That Tuesday, I told them I was ill and ran to his apartment.” He scoffed lightly. “Imagine my surprise when the two of you walked in on me.”

“Hence the pistol.”

“It was Tyler’s. I was telling the truth about not knowing how to use the blasted thing.”

Joe said, “We thank ya’s for not accidentally shooting us.”

Dave flashed a warning glance to his friend and said to Paul, “And Karl?”

Paul sniffed again. “What about Karl?”

“I want to know what happened to Karl.”

The mere mention of the kid’s name irritated the man. “I don’t know a damn thing about what happened to Karl. I didn’t even know he was dead until you told me!”

“Stop lying, Paul.” Dash’s voice was hard now, anger building up inside him. “What happened? Did Karl not listen to you and go to Tyler’s? He was trying to reach somebody that night. I think it was his lover. Did he not buy your lie about Tyler breaking things off?”

“This is preposterous! I was not at the Shelton on Sunday night. Ask Pru.”

“She went to sleep, didn’t she?” Dash was gathering fury, his face flush, his cheeks hot. “You could’ve snuck out of her apartment, gone to the Shelton, found Karl, and did what you’ve always wanted to do.”

“No!”

“You strangled that kid and threw him away like the garbage you believed he was.”

Paul was bewildered. “I did no such thing!”

“Liar!”

“Lassie,” Joe murmured.

Paul’s mouth gaped open. “You’re insane. You know that? I, I admit, I accidentally hit Tyler, but I didn’t go on a, a murderous rampage. I am not a violent man, I swear. I just lost my temper that one time . . . that one time I wish I could . . .” The tears came back. “. . . wish I could change. Oh God, Tyler, I’m so sorry.”

Paul began to quietly weep.

Dash’s surge of anger began to subside, replaced with a growing confusion. He was so sure Paul Avery killed them both. But this pathetic man mewling grief in front of him had seemed so . . . what was the word? . . . sincere in his denials of killing Karl. Could Dash be wrong?

There was a knock at the door. One of the secretaries opened it and poked her head in. “Mr. Avery? Is everything alright?”

Paul averted his face so she wouldn’t see the pink cheeks and the trail marks of his tears. “Yes, Gladys.”

She looked doubtfully from Paul to Dash and Joe. “All right,” she said slowly. “There’s a package for you. You need to sign for it.”

“Thanks, Gladys.” He wiped his face with a handkerchief and stood up. “Would you gentlemen excuse me?”

Dash replied, “We’re not quite finished here, Mr. Avery.”

Gladys leapt to her boss’s defense. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but you can wait one moment while he gets some air and gets his package. I don’t know what could be so important.”

Joe said, “It’s very important, miss—”

She cut him off with a single raised finger. “Not now, gentlemen. You can wait.” Her voice softened. “Right this way, Mr. Avery.”

She gave them a withering, warning look as Paul left the office.

As soon as he cleared the threshold, she said, “You two don’t mind, I need to find a file. Last I saw it, it was in here somewhere.”

Gladys walked into the office and closed the door behind her, effectively trapping Dash and Joe inside. She sat down behind Paul’s desk and began opening the drawers, keeping one eye on them as she searched. Dash mentally tipped his hat to her. She was clever. And fiercely loyal.