Blinded

Chapter 17

Justin parked the Jeep and they made their way into the loft building. Brian pushed the button for the elevator and they rode up. As the elevator came to a stop Brian had to ask, "Is there an envelope in front of the door?"

Justin looked through the gate and shook his head. "No," he said with a sigh of relief.

He shoved the gate up and put the takeout bag in Brian's hand while he unlocked the loft door. He pulled the heavy door back and they went inside. Immediately Brian stopped sensing something was not right.

"Justin," he said, "is anything disturbed … or out of place?"

Justin looked around. "It looks the same to me. Why?"

"It … it doesn't feel right," Brian said hesitantly.

"I don't see anything, Brian," Justin replied looking around more carefully. Nothing seemed to be disturbed. "There was no note at the door and I locked up carefully. No one has been here."

Brian let out a breath. He would have to take Justin's word for it that everything was as it should be. But that didn't explain the feeling that something wasn't right. Maybe his imagination was working overtime what with being blind and focusing on his other senses to compensate.

They ate their takeout and Justin told Brian about his art and his hope of being an artist in the future. Brian wished he could see Justin's work, but he thought the boy must be pretty good if he thought he could get into PIFA. From what Justin said about the place it was probably one of the most prestigious art institutes in the east. Brian made it clear that he would help Justin with his tuition if he got accepted, and then he had to fend off Justin's attempts to thank him.

When Justin realized that he was getting nowhere fast, he decided he better find a more neutral topic. He asked Brian about his writing. He asked about the current book that Brian was working on, wanting to know how Brian got the ideas for his stories. Brian told him that his first book had been semi-autobiographical. He had written it because his friends were always laughing at his exploits and amazed at what he got away with in business and in the bars and clubs. Brian had thought other people might enjoy a vicarious look at his life too. As long as they never knew who he really was. That was why he had become Phillip Remington in the world of writing. And the public, or some segment of it, had enjoyed his book. His first novel had achieved a modest success. Then his publisher had wanted him to write another one. Brian confessed to Justin that coming up with an idea for another book had been a lot harder than he had expected, and he refused to just rehash what he had done in the first novel.

"So what is the current novel about?" Justin asked.

Brian sighed. Nobody knew what he was writing about, but he thought it might be interesting to bounce some ideas off Justin since he had begun to pattern Jackson after some of the things he had found out about Justin. They were about the same age. "Do you remember a few months ago there was a news story about the body of a young man being found in a dumpster behind a diner on Liberty Avenue?"

Justin thought for a moment. "No, it doesn't ring a bell," Justin replied. "But I don't always pay attention to murders and bad stuff."

Brian huffed. That was typical of kids. They never dealt with their own mortality, or anybody else's for that matter. "You remember Michael from the park?" Justin nodded and screwed up his face in disgust. Brian waited for an answer not seeing the nod or the face.

"Yeah," Justin said finally, realizing once again that Brian couldn't see him.

"Michael's mother, Debbie, works at that diner. She found the body when she went to put out the trash."

"Fuck!" Justin reacted.

"Michael and a couple of other friends and I were going to breakfast at the diner that morning and saw the police cars. We saw the body in the dumpster."

"Really? What did it look like?" Justin could only imagine finding something like that. It must have been gruesome.

Brian thought for a moment. He had been fascinated by the sight too. "Dumpster Boy" as he came to be known, was young, not much older than you. He had bruises around his neck, and he was crammed into that fucking dumpster, thrown away like another piece of garbage. It was disgusting … and … upsetting … and sad."

"How did you stand to look at him? I don't know if I could have."

"It was kind of mesmerizing in some weird fucked up way. I couldn't get him out of my mind after that."

"So your book's about Dumpster Boy?"

"His name is Jason Kemp. Debbie managed to find that out. She kind of went on a crusade to solve the murder."

"Wow, if I had found that body, I wouldn't want to ever think about it again," Justin said slowly.

"Debbie always takes up a cause when she finds one. She didn't want Dumpster Boy to lie in an unmarked grave with no one knowing who he was."

"Debbie sounds like an amazing woman."

"She is. So I decided to call this book 'Dumpster Boy'."

"It's about Jason then?"

"Not exactly. Jason was Debbie's crusade. Mine was to find out about Jason's killer."

"You wanted to solve the crime?" Justin asked in amazement.

"No, but I wanted to understand what kind of a monster could do that to a young man. He was so young and anybody, hustler or not, deserved better than ending up in a fucking dumpster. The only thing the kid was guilty of was faulty judgment in going with his killer. I was interested in how someone who had done that to Jason could walk among us every day and look like anyone else, and get away with something as horrific as that murder."

"The story's about the killer then, not the victim."

"That was the idea I started out with, but since I've met you," Brian admitted slowly, "I've become more interested in Jason's side of the story, or Jackson as he is in my novel."

"You switched the point of view because of me?" Justin asked with a smile.

"Only partially. I've decided to tell the story from alternating points of view."

"Between Jason and the murderer? I like that idea."

"Glad it meets with your approval," Brian said with a chuckle.

"So who is your murderer?"

"Um … My murderer," Brian said stressing the word 'my', "is a cop."

"A cop?" Justin asked. That gave him a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach hearing Brian say that. "How did you come up with that idea?"

"It's kind of a long story," Brian said by way of explanation. He wasn't sure how much he should tell Justin about his theories.

"I've got lots of time. I'm staying the night. Remember."

How could Brian forget? But that was a problem for later on. "This stays between us. Okay?"

"Of course," Justin promised. "I wouldn't reveal the plot of your novel."

"It's not just the novel…"

"What are you talking about?"

"I have a pretty good idea who the actual killer is," Brian said slowly.

"Fuck! You do?"

"Yeah, and I don't know that I should share that information with anyone else."

"You know who the killer is?"

"I think so."

"But … but … shouldn't you tell the police?" Justin sputtered.

"He is the police … if I'm right."

"Holy fuck!"

"I did some investigating and everything points to a certain person. I've tried to get some concrete evidence, but my leads always dry up. I haven't gone to the police because I don't know who to trust. They might be friends of this guy, or accomplices even. They might tell me to get lost and then tip off the murderer that I was snooping around. I can't say anything without proof."

"So you're just going to write about it in your novel?" Justin asked still trying to figure out this new wrinkle.

"At this point, yes."

"I still think you need to talk to the police. What about that Detective Carver that came here?"

Brian sighed. "He seems all right, but I don't really know him. I don't know where he stands in the pecking order or if he knows the cop that I think is the murderer."

"Jesus, that's kind of scary!"

"That's why I don't think I should tell you any more. In fact, I've probably told you more than I should have already," Brian sighed.

"I told you that you could trust me. It won't go any farther."

"Good, now let's drop that subject."

"Could I listen to what you were writing about Jason? I mean Jackson. Maybe I can give you some insight into young, horny gay men."

Brian snorted loudly and shook his head. Justin Taylor was something else. "Where's my recorder?" Brian said feeling around on the sofa. He was sure he had left it there when they went out.

Justin looked around not seeing the recorder anywhere. He slid his hand down behind the cushions and finally came up with it on the opposite end from where Brian always sat. He placed it in Brian's hand and waited to hear what Brian had written about Jackson.

Brian pushed the play button not sure whether he had rewound the tape or not. He expected to hear nothing and then he would rewind. The tape started in the middle with Jackson going to the orgy with the man he had met in the park. Brian pushed 'stop' and frowned. He hit rewind and heard the whir as the tape went back to the beginning. He pushed play and held the recorder out to Justin who took it to listen.

Brian turned away lost in thought. He knew he never stopped that tape in the middle. He had dictated the scene and then shut it off. That was his usual practice. Sometimes he might rewind it so it would be ready for him to listen to when he wanted to write some more, but he never left the tape in the middle of something. Somebody had been in the loft listening to that tape. That had to be what happened. It was the only explanation. But who? And how would they have gotten in? Justin was sure he had locked up properly. Brian remembered that feeling when he first stepped into the loft - the feeling that something wasn't right. This was getting out of hand. If the trick had access to the loft, then he could have gotten in yesterday when he talked to Brian through the door. It had sounded like he was trying to get in, picking the lock or something. Brian felt himself shudder involuntarily. He had no idea what he was going to do about this. Could he be wrong? Maybe he was imagining all this. He could have inadvertently stopped the tape where he had found it, but he knew in his gut that he wouldn't have left it like that. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"Brian?" Justin asked clicking off the tape as he came to the end of what Brian had written. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah."

"You look upset," Justin observed.

"I'm fine," Brian snapped.

"Okay, okay, just asking," Justin said raising his hands in a sign of surrender. "So are you going to describe this orgy in more detail?"

"What orgy?" Brian asked still distracted with his thoughts.

"Where the fuck are you? Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm sure. I … I'm just tired. Going to new places takes a lot out of me."

"We could get ready for bed," Justin said using his most seductive voice.

"Fuck!" Brian reacted.

"Okay," Justin said with a grin.

"Stop that! I just remembered that I have to call Cynthia. What time is it?"

"Almost ten."

"I better call her right now."

"I'll get you the phone," Justin said moving over to the desk. "Do you need me to dial?"

"No, she's number 2 on speed dial," Brian said pushing the button.

Justin wondered who number 1 might be. "I'm going to go have a shower while you do that."

"Fine," Brian replied as the phone began to ring. "Did you lock up?"

"Yes, after we came in."

"Great." Like that was going to protect him when someone had already gotten in. "Go shower. Cynthia?" he said into the phone. "I'm glad I caught you at home."

Justin moved towards the bathroom wondering if he should forego the towel when he came out and see what he could do with his naked body up against Brian's. Then he realized that the man wouldn't be able to see him. And he had already had his naked body all over Brian's. That hadn't got him too far either, at least not as far as he had wanted it to get him. He needed to think on this some more while he took his shower.

"If you bring the cellular account with you," Brian said to Cynthia, "we can work on it here."

"But why aren't you coming into the office?" Cynthia asked from the other end of the line.

"I told you that I'm not feeling well."

"That never stopped you from coming to work before. I've seen you majorly hung over and you still dragged yourself in."

"This is … different," Brian replied.

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I think you'll understand when you come here tomorrow."

"If you say so," she said skeptically. "What time do you want me there?"

"Could you make it around eight?" Brian asked. He wasn't sure what time Justin had to leave for school.

"I'll try, but I'll have to drop by the office, tell them what I'm doing and pick up the materials you want. I might be a bit later than that."

"Get here as soon as you can," Brian said with a worried frown.

"I will."

"And thanks, Cynthia."

"You're welcome," she said and hung up wondering what had come over her boss.

Brian set the phone down on the sofa. He rubbed his eyes with his palms. He really was tired. It had been a long day and he was still fucking blind. As he took his hands away he was looking in the direction of the windows and for a split second he thought he saw the glow of the lights from the street.