Triangulation, page 14
part #2 of Borealis Investigations Series
Shaw got to his desk. He got out his MacBook. He ran back through what Chuck had told them. They’d need to hire a forensic accountant to start digging through the finances at Iris and see what had happened. That would be the first step in clearing Chuck’s name. When Shaw called Iris, though, he ran into an obstacle.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Beau said.
“What? What do you mean?”
“Look, it’s just not a good idea. A lot of our donors want to remain anonymous, and the kids we serve are minors. I don’t like the idea that a stranger could be in here, see our paperwork, learn their names.”
“This is important, Beau. This is about Chuck.”
Beau’s voice hardened. “No. We’re not doing that. Listen, I want to help Chuck. I do. If you and North want to come look at this stuff, be my guest. You can have anything you want. You can spend as much time as you want. But I’m not letting a stranger in here. Not without a court order.”
“Why? Do you have something to hide?”
For a moment, Shaw could only hear North’s smoky rumble from the outer office as he consoled Pari. Then Beau’s voice came back even harder. “I really don’t appreciate that. I said you can have whatever you want. And I’ll stick by that. But I’m not going to stay on the phone and be accused just because I’m trying to protect these kids and the people who want to help them. If you need anything else, maybe you can just text me.”
Then he disconnected.
Shaw didn’t like how the interaction had gone. In the first place, it was going to be hard work going through the finances; in the second place, Beau’s refusal to allow them to audit the financial records made Shaw suspicious. Shaw wanted to argue that an audit would be completely private, and that the kids and donors would remain safely anonymous. But his gut told him that any argument he made would reach deaf ears; Beau’s refusal had been flat and total. He wasn’t going to budge unless he were ordered, and that would be a long time coming, if ever.
The door to the inner office opened, and North came inside carrying two styrofoam plates: one with ham and potatoes and green beans, one with cherry pie and blueberry-lemon crumble. He set them on the desk in front of Shaw and said, “Eat. I know you’re mad at me, but eat.”
Shaw lifted a plastic fork and poked at a cherry that was oozing out of the slice of pie. “I’m not mad at you.”
“I want to see you take a bite.”
“This has artificial colors in it. And it has sodium benzoate. And I guess I’m back on meat, but I know this ham has like a hundred grams of added sugar because of the honey—”
“Shaw.” North sounded like he was being strangled. “Put a bite of food in your mouth now. Before I do it for you. You haven’t eaten at all today, I’m guessing, and you’re damn well going to eat now.”
“I had coffee with Jadon.”
“In bed?”
Shaw felt himself flush. “And I had a Starburst.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m going to grab that fork in ten seconds if you don’t eat some fucking food.”
Shaw fiddled with the fork, digging a blueberry out of the crumble.
“10.”
He scraped a green bean across the plate.
“9.”
He drilled into the potatoes.
“8. Don’t fucking test me right now.”
“I need a knife to cut the ham.”
“Fuck that. You can eat it just like fucking that because you’re pushing me to the edge of my fucking limits. 7.”
“I can’t cut it without a knife.”
“6.”
“You’re being ridiculous. I’m just asking for—”
“5.”
“I’ll just have some more coffee.” Shaw pushed back, the chair bumping across the uneven boards.
“Shaw, if your ass leaves that seat, I’m going to put you back in it. Hard. 4.”
“I probably need to see the list of allergens before I eat anything.”
“You’re not allergic to anything. 3. And don’t say you’re allergic to strawberries because you are not, you just had a coughing fit one time.”
“I am allergic to strawberries, but I don’t always react in a way that—”
“2.”
Savagely, Shaw speared a slice of ham and jammed it into his mouth. Most of it hung out, sticky against his chin, and he chewed slowly, leveling a furious glare at North.
North smiled, and it raked across his face like sunlight. “Good boy. I knew I’d get a piece of my meat in your mouth one day.”
Shaw gave him the finger.
North’s smile exploded into a grin, and he went back to Pari.
The taste of the ham surprised Shaw. It was good. And somehow, it made Shaw hungry, and as he ate, he felt better. His suddenly improving good mood did not have anything to do with that interaction with North, Shaw insisted to himself. So he ate. And as he ate, he began to search. He pulled up state campgrounds. He pulled up RV enthusiast sites. He ran searches on commercial properties.
When North came back, Shaw realized the crying in the outer office had quieted, and he said, “Is she ok?”
“I sent her home. I guess you were hungry.”
Blushing, Shaw refused to look at the two empty plates stacked on the edge of his desk. He did, however, say, “Thank you.”
North just gave him one of those grins. He was checking something on his phone.
“What’s that?” Shaw asked.
“An invitation to brunch.”
“From Teddi?”
“No. It’s a whole thing Teddi wants us to look into. He didn’t tell you about it?”
Shaw shook his head.
“Some guy named Josh Liebowitz—”
“You got an invite to Josh Liebowitz’s brunch?”
“Yeah. For tomorrow. What is it with these guys? Doesn’t anybody have to go to work?”
“We’re going to that brunch. Rufus told me that Josh has guys with sushi on their stomachs.”
“Oh? And that’s something you’d like?”
Shaw felt his whole face catch fire. “That’s not what I—”
With a grin, North nodded. “We’re going Thursday. We’re supposed to figure out how Josh stole Teddi’s brunch crew.” He nodded at the MacBook. “What are you doing?”
“I’m trying not to close my eyes to Chuck,” Shaw said as North took a seat. “I’m trying not to let this be Matty all over again.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“But you were right. Anyway, I still think something is weird about Beau. I know you don’t agree, but that’s how I feel. And I think Donny is important. I’d like to talk to him, at least, and hear his version of what happened with Shep. If it matches with what Beau told us—I’ll try to let it go, ok?”
“Ok. While you track him down, I’ll keep trying to figure out whose alibis hold up for the night Shep disappeared.”
“I think I might have found Donny already.” Shaw spun his MacBook so North could see the screen, where he had displayed the website for Yogi Bear’s Jellystone Park, a campground west of the city.
“You’re kidding me.”
“Hear me out: we know Donny is staying in a camper.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“Ok: it’s likely that Donny is staying in a camper. That’s his usual residence, and Chuck told us she heard Shep say something about where Donny was staying.”
“Chuck told us she heard that. She also told us she didn’t hear any of the fight between Donny and Shep, and I don’t believe that story at all.”
Shaw frowned, remembering how Chuck had flushed as she told them about that night. “You think she was lying? Beau told us he heard the fight too.”
“I’m pretty damn sure she’s lying. Not about the fight happening, but about her not hearing anything.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t we press her?”
“It’s not like we can throw her in a hotbox and sweat her for a few hours, Shaw. And it’s not like I have anything to use as leverage. She knows she’s in hot water; if she’s lying, I can’t scare her into telling the truth.”
“Well,” Shaw said, his gaze rotating to the MacBook. “I don’t know how well this holds up, then. But I’ll walk you through it. There are a lot of places in Missouri to park a camper. But there aren’t a ton that are within driving distance of the suburbs—not ones that meet Shep’s criteria of ‘almost in the suburbs,’ or however he said it. There are also a couple of state parks—this one, Babler, out in Wildwood, I thought this might be a good option. But then I started thinking about where he was coming from and where he wanted to go.”
“Arkansas, most likely,” North said, ticking it off. “And to see Shep.”
“How do you get to Arkansas?”
“I don’t know, Shaw. My family didn’t do the great American road trip when I was twelve in a luxury RV.”
“It wasn’t a luxury RV.”
“You told me it had marble countertops.”
“It wasn’t that luxurious.”
“You told me it had a jacuzzi.”
“Yeah, but, a small one.”
“You tell me: how do you get to Arkansas?”
“Straight out I-44 almost the whole way. Then south on 49, eventually. And what’s the easiest highway to take into the city to see Shep at Iris? Or, for that matter, at his home in Holly Hills?”
“I-44.”
“So it makes sense he’d pick?”
“A campsite on I-44.” North squinted at the screen.
“You need glasses.”
“No, I don’t.”
“A couple of weeks ago, when we were driving, you thought that bumper sticker said Boys Have Sweet Tits Too.”
North glared at him; red flooded his fair skin. “I told you I had something in my eye.”
“But the bumper sticker really said Boys Are Sweethearts Too. Which I think is a very nice pushback against the macho culture that teaches boys they have to hide their feelings and be tough or they won’t be loved.”
“Once I blinked my eye clear, I could read it just fine.”
“I think you’re a victim of toxic masculinity, North. I think you need glasses. I think you know you need glasses. But you don’t know how to tell me you need glasses because you’ve been programmed by mass media and by a history of Western patriarchy to—”
“Do you want me to take an eye exam?”
“I worry about you watching so much TV without your glasses.”
“Fine. I’ll schedule an appointment with the optometrist. Which would be a lot less fucking expensive if you had agreed to get vision insurance like I wanted.”
Shaw was nodding. “Because you knew you needed glasses. Anyway, I just think you’ve been watching so much anime lately, squinting at the TV, that it’s probably making your vision even worse.”
North had gone totally still. A dark red flush slashed across his cheekbones. “Excuse me?”
“Well, you steal my Netflix account, and I don’t know who else would be watching Devilman Crybaby over and over again, and one time, I saw that you’d finished the last episode, and the next day your eyes were really red like you’d been crying, but I asked you, and you said your eyes were just bothering you that day, and I said maybe you needed glasses. Remember?”
North sat there, staring at him, the fringe of blush in his cheeks burning hotter.
Shifting in his seat, Shaw cleared his throat. “You know, maybe I—I must have gotten that wrong.”
“You did.”
“I probably gave Pari my Netflix.”
“Probably.”
“I guess I’ll just, um.” Shaw swiveled away from that baleful gaze. “What was I saying?”
“We should go check Jellystone.” North stood up; the thin t-shirt tightened across his chest, and Shaw forgot for a moment what they’d been talking about.
“Jellystone?” Shaw said.
“To see if Donny’s still there. Or if he stayed there.”
“Oh. Right.” Shaw checked the time. Barely three in the afternoon. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I, uh. I’m going to keep working on trying to track where Shep went after he left Iris.”
“I shouldn’t go by myself, Shaw. My investigator’s license is still suspended, and technically I’m supposed to be working under your supervision.”
“You’ve never wanted my supervision before. In fact, I’m pretty sure that one time you told me that you, quote, ‘Needed my supervision as much as you needed a kick in the balls.’ End quote.”
“What’s going on?”
“What?”
“You’re trying to get rid of me.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are. What are you planning?”
Sighing, Shaw said, “I have a date. With Jadon.”
“It’s three, Shaw. We’ll be back in time for your date.”
“I know, but I just think I should work on Shep’s last movements, and I should probably shower before I see Jadon, and—”
North cocked his head, studying Shaw at an angle. Something swam in the snowfall blue of his eyes, some sort of realization, and then North shrugged and said, “He’ll have sex with you even if you don’t take a shower.”
“Uh—”
“Trust me. I’ve seen how he looks at you, and that guy would bang you if you’d just crawled out of a septic tank.”
“Gross.”
“Because you’re just so handsome.”
“Ok. You can go now.”
“And you’re just so charming.”
“Bye, North. Bye, bye.”
“And you’ve got those delicate hands—I bet that goat cheese stuff softens them right up—”
“It’s goat’s milk body wash, not—”
“—and those soft, silky, delicate hands on his—”
“Yep,” Shaw said, rolling back from the desk so fast that the chair almost tipped over on the uneven boards. He hustled around the desk and pushed North toward the door. “See you later.”
“Are you sneaking off for some afternoon delight?” North said, pretending to dig in his heels. He weighed about as much as a water buffalo, and even with North just pretending, Shaw really had to settle in and shove to move him forward. “Is that what this is all about?”
“I’ll call you if I find anything.”
“Because if you’re just thirsty, you can have your bae make house calls. I won’t say anything, I promise. He can swing by, carry you upstairs over his shoulder, drop his trousers, and—
Somehow, Shaw managed to shoulder North out of the room, and he slammed the door and put his back to it. Then, after a moment’s consideration, he flipped the lock.
Tapping on the glass made Shaw groan and try to drip down onto the floor.
“Shaw.” North’s voice floated through the thin glass. “Shaw, is Jadon the one you bought that economy-size box of condoms for? Because I know you were trying to hide it, but my vision is very fucking good, and I could read the label even though you kept trying to cover it.”
“Ok,” Shaw shouted back. “Your vision is perfect. You don’t need glasses. You made your point.”
“And they were flavored, right?”
“North, please, for the love of God.”
“Bye, buddy.”
“Goodbye.”
“I love you.”
Right at that moment, Shaw didn’t particularly love North. He was, right at that moment, considering how quiet the office would be if North got hit by a truck and had a broken leg for a few weeks.
“Shaw?”
Shaw beat his head against the door.
“Shaw, did you hear me?”
“Ah, Christ, fuck, hell, all right. I love you too.”
“Bye, buddy.”
The old boards groaned under North’s steps as he left the building, but they weren’t so loud that Shaw couldn’t hear North’s soft laughter as he left.
As soon as North had left and Shaw felt certain he wasn’t coming back, Shaw grabbed his wallet and keys and phone and darted for the garage. He checked the time. He could still make it—easily, in fact. His phone buzzed once as he slid into the Mercedes, a message from Jadon: Dinner tonight?
Shaw texted back: Late? Heading out now with North to check some things.
Jadon’s response came almost immediately: Tell North to keep you safe. Text me when you want to eat. Then a kissy-face emoji.
Shaw started the car, backed out of the garage, and drove.
Chapter 16
SHAW DROVE SOUTHWEST out of the city; his heartbeat thrummed in his fingertips. He didn’t drive like North because he wasn’t as good a driver as North, but he drove fast, and he pushed the Mercedes as much as he dared.
As the city gave way to the suburbs and the suburbs gave way to rolling hills of green already starting to brown in the late summer heat, Shaw finally let himself think. He had been planning this for so long. It had taken months and months of careful effort, coordination, persuasion, and what he started to call in his mind skullduggery. Because the essential quality of what he was doing, the thing that defined it most vividly in Shaw’s mind, was that he was sneaking around. Hiding it from Jadon. Hiding it—Christ, so much more importantly—from North. Hence, skullduggery. He didn’t like this side of himself, but he was surprised to find that he was good at it.
In April, Shaw had thought that he was hot on the lead of the West End Slasher. His investigation into a blackmail conspiracy had culminated with Shaw recovering surveillance footage of an attack by the Slasher. One particular attack, in fact: the attack on Shaw and his date, Carl Vance, who had died that night. Although Shaw remembered next to nothing of the attack—just the end, the sharp pain across his thigh and between his legs, and the sight of Carl slaughtered—he had recognized the location on the surveillance footage and he had recognized the date of the attack.
A lucky mistake—lucky for Shaw, anyway—had provided Shaw with the license plate on the Slasher’s getaway car, and Jadon had run the plates as a favor, not knowing why Shaw was asking. The first act of skullduggery. The plates had come back belonging to Marjorie Parrish, widow of a retired police officer who had died the same year that the Slasher had been caught.
