“He was a kid, he was gay—probably gay, I mean, I didn’t ask—and his parents didn’t get who he was or what he wanted. I still remembered what that was like, to feel you’d been dropped into the wrong life,” Sean said. He peeled a long, crinkled strip of paper away from the glass and flicked it off the table. A frown pinched his eyebrows together as he spoke, so maybe he still remembered what that wrong life felt like. “I gave him the card because… Macintosh was a tough man. He wore nice suits and drank Starbucks, but he was hard as nails, and he expected his sons to live up to his example. His eldest, with his first wife, did.”
“But Tommy needed, what?” Javi asked. “The occasional backhand to keep him in line?”
That story was familiar enough. At least twice a week, Cloister had to arrest someone who protested they had no choice but to slap something into their kid. Cloister was actually surprised when Sean promptly shook his head.
“No. Not as far as I know. It was nothing like that. He was going to send Tommy to some survivalist summer camp to toughen him up, make a man of him. Tommy didn’t want to go, and I told him that, if it was that bad, call me. I’d do what I could.” Sean paused and shook his head as he lifted his beer for another swig. “Thankfully he never did. I have no idea what I planned to do. Save the—”
Javi interrupted him. “Do you think Macintosh expected his son to become straight from that camp?”
Sean thought about that as he drank his beer. He swallowed and wiped foam off his upper lip with the pad of his thumb. This time his denial was a lot less confident.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “If it was, Tommy didn’t know about it. He was worried it would be full of jocks like his brother and that he wouldn’t be allowed to use his phone. He never mentioned anything about religion or girls or anything like that. It could have been. I had no idea. Why?”
Cloister wanted to know that too. He’d have to wait. Instead of an answer, Javi pulled his phone back over the table and shook his head.
“I just want to be sure we have the full story,” he said as he flicked away the picture of the business card. Cloister glanced over and saw Janet’s face fill the screen instead. It was the one from her driver’s license—all glossy curls and smile. Javi showed it to Sean. “Are you sure you don’t recognize her?”
Sean glanced at the phone and away quickly. “No idea.”
“Look properly, please,” Cloister said. “She deserves that.”
“You were more interesting as a liar,” Sean said. He heaved a put-upon sigh but took the phone from Javi to study the image. “I don’t know her, but….”
“What?”
“The reports said she was from New York, that she was a tourist.”
“Yeah.”
“I missed a call about two weeks ago. It was from a New York number. They left a message on my voice service that said they were coming to Plenty and they needed to see me. It was a woman. It might been her.”
“You could have told us that before.” Javi held his hand out for his phone.
Sean deposited it neatly in his palm. “I could have not cheated on my husband too and saved myself the alimony,” he said. “Hindsight’s twenty-twenty. To be honest I didn’t think anything of it. If everyone who called the office actually went through with hiring me, I’d… have to pay a lot more alimony. Most people call me and then talk themselves out of it—that perfume on his collar was just from the waitress, the boobs on her phone were a misdial, the lawyers’ fees will bankrupt us. They just don’t want to know. This call didn’t stand out from the rest, and whoever it was never called back. It might not even have been your Janet. Just because she had my number doesn’t mean she called it.”
“Doesn’t mean she didn’t,” Javi countered. “Could you—”
“Get you access to my service? No,” Sean said. “I can have a copy of that particular message forwarded to you, though. And next time I need a favor—”
“I assume you’ll also forward the names of anyone else you might have given this card to, anyone you remember,” Javi said.
Sean rolled his eyes and stood up. “Like I said, not many of them stand out. I’ll see what I can do. If there’s nothing else…?”
There wasn’t.
Javi waited until Sean had left and then cursed quietly to himself. He frowned at Janet’s face on his phone for a moment, then banished her back to the home screen with an impatient jab of his thumb.
“What?” Cloister asked.
“I don’t know,” Javi said. He tucked the phone back into his pocket and frowned. “Probably nothing. It makes no sense.”
Cloister nudged Bourneville’s head off his knee. There was a wet patch on his jeans where she’d drooled on him. She yawned, sneezed, and scrambled to her feet. He pushed his chair back and followed suit.
“I told you that fried chicken place was open again,” he pointed out.
Javi leaned back in his chair and looked up at Cloister. The lazy trawl of his gaze as it lingered on Cloister’s chest and shoulders curled heat under his skin. He didn’t bother to pretend it didn’t.
“How will that help?” Javi asked dryly.
