Druid II

Chapter 8


“I should have gone with him,” Justin said biting his bottom lip.

“The police didn’t seem to want you to accompany Brian,” Pats said. “And Brian told you to stay here.”

“What do they want with him?” Jennifer asked with a worried look on her face.

“They didn’t say much when they questioned Brian,” Justin informed them. “They kept asking him if he wanted to change any of his statements. I don’t know what they were getting at.”

“Do you think Brian was lying about something?” Jennifer asked.

“Mom! Of course Brian wasn’t lying,” Justin protested.

“Just asking,” Jennifer replied. “They must have had a reason for asking him to change his testimony.”

“It wasn’t testimony,” Justin reminded her. “They just talked to him.”

“But now he’s down at the precinct,” Mick said. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“And where do you think it’s going?” Justin asked feeling a sense of dread as he spoke the words.

“It seems like they suspect Brian of some part in this murder.”

“Brian wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Jennifer stated.

Justin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’ve sure changed your tune.”

“He told me a little bit about his life,” Jennifer said carefully. “With all he’s been through, I can’t see him hurting, murdering, this man … or anyone. He would have killed someone long ago if he was so inclined. And he would have had every right…” she added.

Justin nodded in agreement. Brian was really a gentle soul under all the bravado. He had to be tough to survive but that wasn’t really who he was.

“I think I should go down to the police station,” Justin said after a few moments of silence.

“You should stay here,” Jennifer said firmly. “Brian told you to stay here. He’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that,” Justin refuted.

“I believe it,” Jennifer said.

With a sigh Justin gave in. But it wouldn’t stop him worrying until Brian came through the front door safe and sound.



*****



“Mr. Kinney,” Detective Weatherley said as he closed the door to the interrogation room, “I’ve given you every opportunity to change your story about being at the gay club all night.”

“I wasn’t at Primavera all night. I went back to my office after we left the club,” Brian corrected.

“You didn’t mention that when I first interviewed you.”

“I may have omitted that information,” Brian conceded.

“Is there something else you’ve omitted?”

“Like what?” Brian asked. He suddenly had the feeling that they knew where else he had been on that evening.

“Like those,” Weatherley said pointing to Brian’s scabbing knuckles as his hands rested on the table.

“Oh, those?”

“Yes, those and have a look at this,” Detective Weatherley said. He indicated a TV set on a nearby table. He pushed a button on the remote.

Brian recognized the front of the hotel where Thierry had stayed. They must have had surveillance cameras at the hotel. He felt his chest constrict. They knew he was there on the night Thierry died.

“Does this look familiar?” Weatherley asked.

Brian merely nodded as he watched the TV. He knew what was coming.

“I believe that’s you,” Weatherley said. Brian could see himself climb out of a cab and enter the hotel. “That was you, was it not?”

Brian nodded again. He didn’t know what else to do. He stared at the TV as another car pulled up in front of the hotel before Weatherley turned the TV off.

“You visited Thierry Demarais on the night he was murdered,” Weatherley stated.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you say so? You were probably the last person to see him alive.”

“No, the murderer was.”

“So, you’re saying you didn’t murder him,” Weatherley stated.

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Then why lie about being there?”

Brian sucked his lips in and thought about his answer. “Because I lied to Justin about where I was going. I didn’t want him to know I had gone to see Thierry.”

“You said you were going to your office, and instead you went to visit the murder victim.”

“Yes.”

“Why go to the hotel?”

“Thierry called me. He wanted to see me about business. He said it meant that I got the account if I came. I didn’t want to lose his business.”

“So you obliged.”

“He … he was adamant that I have sex with him,” Brian said. “He tried to make it happen with liquor and persuasion. He threatened to take his business elsewhere.”

“So you killed him when he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“How would that get me his business?” Brian asked sarcastically.

“Things have been known to get out of hand.”

“Thierry was a … good man. I met him at the quoin, but that was the only time we were ever together. I was surprised that he called me offering to bring his advertising account to Triskele. I was glad he felt that way, until I got to the hotel and realized that it was all a ploy to get sex.” Brian shook his head at his own stupidity.

“So you got angry,” Weatherley stated.

“Yeah, I did. I had lied to Justin for nothing. I should have known better. I just left.”

“Just like that?”

“There was some shouting. Thierry was very angry.”

“Did he attack you?”

“I don’t think his advances could be called that. He’s not a very strong man.”

“How did you injure your hand?” Weatherley asked as he looked at Brian’s hand which rested on the table top.

“I punched a desk,” Brian replied. That was what he had told Justin.

“Or perhaps you punched Mr. Desmarais,” Weatherley said.

“I didn’t punch Thierry,” Brian averred.

“Well, I doubt you punched a desk either.”

Brian drew in a breath. He realized this was the time for the truth. Lying was only going to get him charged with murder. “What I said about the desk … that’s not true. I punched a little asshole named Larry or Lin or Liam. The bartender at Primavera can tell you who he is.”

“Did you also punch Thierry Desmarais while you were beating him and then strangling him?”

“Jesus, no!” Brian declared. “I didn’t touch Thierry.”

Weatherley studied Brian Kinney for a moment. The man was very straightforward, bluntly so. That was why he was having so much trouble with the initial lie about going to Triskele, when in reality he had gone to the hotel. He had probably lied about his hand to his partner as well. How could Kinney seem so honest and straightforward when he had been caught in two lies? Something didn’t make sense.

“What was the last thing Desmarais said to you?” Weatherley asked.

Brian raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m … curious. How did you leave things?”

Brian thought for a moment, remembering the harsh words. It wasn’t pleasant to think that was how they had parted company for the last time. Thierry would be dead right after that.

“He called me over the hill. Said I probably couldn’t get it up anymore,” Brian admitted bluntly.

“And his words stung?”

“Of course they did. I thought of Thierry as a … friend.”

“But he turned into a vengeful old man.”

“Kind of…”

“Were you angry?”

“I was angry, but not angry enough to kill him,” Brian stated adamantly.

Weatherley liked getting a rise out of this controlled man. He continued. “So what did you say in return?”

“I told him that my partner had no complaints, and that I was leaving.”

“He just let you go?”

“No, he had a parting shot.”

“Oh?”

“He said he was waiting for someone younger and sexier than I could ever be. Someone who could replace me in the snap of a finger. He wanted a real man, not some faded has been from the quoin.” Brian looked into Weatherley’s eyes. “I hadn’t thought about what he said until you asked, but it sounds like he might have had some other hustler all lined up.”

“Is that what you think?”

“It seems that way now that I think about it. It would make sense that someone was there after me, since I didn’t kill him.” Brian stared defiantly into Weatherley’s eyes.

“That would be very convenient for you.”

“Nothing has been convenient so far,” Brian said bitterly.

“If you didn’t kill Desmarais, what was he doing when you left the hotel room?”

“I … I think he picked up his cell phone.”

“We’ve checked all his calls.”

“I don’t know,” Brian said shaking his head.

“What time did you leave?”

“I’m sure you have me leaving on tape,” Brian said sarcastically. “Check the time stamp.”

“You would do better to be cooperative,” Weatherley warned.

“That hasn’t got me anywhere yet,” Brian snapped.

“What time did you leave?” Weatherley repeated. He knew exactly the time, but he wanted to hear what Kinney had to say. Another lie would fry him.

“I think it was just after midnight.”

“Well within the time frame of the murder.”

Brian shook his head in defeat. He couldn’t prove that Thierry was alive when he left the hotel. Everything pointed to him as the murderer. “I guess you better charge me then,” Brian finally said.

“So you did it?”

“No, I did not! But you seem to have decided that I did.”

“Nothing is decided yet,” Weatherley admitted. He was impressed with this man who had made something of himself after a rather sordid life. Killing someone didn’t seem like part of Kinney’s MO. He wasn’t a rash or violent man, and Desmarais’ murder had been a crime of passion. “Here’s you leaving the hotel,” Weatherley said fast forwarding the tape on the TV. “It was 12:35. I thought you said you left just after midnight.”

“I left Thierry’s hotel room at just after midnight.”

“So why did it take you so long to leave the hotel?” Weatherley asked as the image of Brian came on the TV screen. He waited for a cab and then got in the first one that arrived. “Were you hiding evidence?”

“I was having a drink.”

“A drink?”

“In the hotel bar.”

“To calm your nerves?”

“Exactly.”

“After the murder.”

“After losing a potentially lucrative advertising account … and also losing someone I thought was a friend.”

“Would the bartender remember you?” Weatherley asked.

Brian looked up. His eyes brightened. “He would. He was cruising me like crazy.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Brian stated. “I’m not a total has been.”

“What was his name?”

“I have no idea, although I think he did tell me. Wouldn’t the hotel know who was working that night?”

“Yes, they would,” Weatherley said. He made a motion and Brian knew someone outside the room would be calling the hotel immediately.

Brian felt a glimmer of hope. “He can verify what I was doing,” Brian said hopefully. “Just having a drink, not murdering someone or hiding evidence.”

“It still doesn’t prove that Desmarais was alive when you left him,” Weatherley reminded Brian.

“Right,” Brian said dejectedly. The bartender remembering him wouldn’t be enough to clear him. Then another thought struck Brian. Weatherley had stopped the tape showing Brian leaving the hotel. “Can you run that again?”

“Why?” Weatherley asked, but he ran the tape back and started it up just before Brian appeared. They both watched as Brian waited for a cab and got in. Weatherley let the tape run as he asked, “What does that prove?”

Brian stared at the TV. “That I was calm and together. Do I look like someone who has just committed a murder?”

Weatherley was about to admit that Kinney didn’t appear agitated or upset. “Your drink must have calmed you down,” the detective said smugly.

“You won’t cut me any slack, will… Wait!” Brian almost shouted. “Run that back a bit and play it again.”

“Why?”

“I want to see something.”

Weatherley obliged watching Brian’s reaction to what he saw. The tape showed cabs arriving and leaving. People got in or out of them.

“There!” Brian shouted.

Weatherley stopped the tape. “What do you see?”

“A face from my past – a face I wished never to see again.”