Pumpkin Eater. Jeffrey Round
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Donny went down to the lobby, leaving them where he’d met them three hours earlier.
Six
Heat
The night felt as though it might combust. The coolness of Donny’s condo was just a memory. Each breath seemed a chore as they stepped into the car. Neither of them spoke till Dan flipped on the AC full blast and they sat back, shocked into inertia. Five minutes later they were heading east over the Don Valley, mulling over the news that Lester had left Donny and gone back to his family.
“There was more to it than that,” Trevor said, looking down at the black glass of the river beneath them. “He told me about it when we went out onto the balcony together. He said he didn’t want to bring it up in front of Domingo.”
Dan turned to look, curious that Donny would have confided in Trevor. “Bring what up?”
“Donny thinks Lester got scared and decided he needed to get out of town.”
“Scared of what?”
“Apparently he ran into someone from his past. A man he used to live with who abused him.”
Dan thought this over for a moment. “I knew about the man. Donny never told me Lester had seen him since then.”
They passed through Chinatown East, with its reams of fruit and vegetable stands over-ripening in the heat. Red and yellow lights winked and flashed, giving the impression the city was on fire. Pedestrians plodded with leaden footsteps, as though enduring a stronger gravity field than normal. No one was oblivious to the temperature.
“Lester didn’t mention it till last week,” Trevor told him. “That’s when he decided to leave. Donny wants to talk to you about it when he can speak to you in private.”
Dan mulled this over. Obviously it hadn’t been a total secret, or Ked wouldn’t have known about it. He wondered what explanation Lester had given Ked for wanting to return to his family.
They passed on into the heart of Leslieville. An overhang of branches held sway as the car turned onto their street and edged up to the house. A whiff of smoke hung in the air when they got out of the car. Dan thought of the garage arsonist and looked around. Nothing. Probably just a backyard fire burning somewhere.
They turned to the darkened house. A blast of stale heat hit them as they opened the door. The interior carried an air of quiet torpor. Ked’s hoodie lay draped over the banister, as though he’d returned while they were out. Even in the heat, he was seldom without it. He must have forgotten to take it when he left for his game earlier, Dan thought.
Ralph thumped a greeting with his tail. Too hot to move, he was nonetheless alert for the possibility of a walk. Since Trevor’s arrival, Ralph’s behaviour had improved noticeably. His longstanding disagreements with Dan had diminished: fewer accidents on the front hall carpet, fewer items of clothing destroyed when he got frustrated at the long wait between walks.
“How’s my favourite puppy?” Trevor intoned, giving Ralph a quick rub behind the ears.
“Is that how you get him to behave?” Dan asked.
“That and the occasional treat. Bribery and flattery work for most humans, so why not dogs?”
Everyone needed love, it seemed.
“Why not indeed?” Dan echoed, heading for the hall phone.
The first message was a goodnight call from Ked at his mother’s house. His words were touching. “I miss you guys already,” he said. His voice lowered confidentially. “But I’m not telling Mom that. Give Ralph a scratch behind the ears for me.”
Done, Dan thought, bemused as the message ended and another began. The next voice was strange to his ears — curt, metallic. It sounded as though a very officious robot were talking.
“This is a message for Mr. Dan Sharp. Mr. Sharp, sir, this is Detective Karl Danes of the Toronto Police, 11 Division. We met last night at the North York Pork Slaughterhouse.”
Dan pictured the fleshy police officer. The man’s name had been something like Danes.
The voice continued. “Sir, something further has come to light in this regard and I would appreciate an hour or so of your time. If you could call the following number, day or night, and let me know when it would be convenient to meet with you, I would greatly appreciate it. My number is …”
Dan switched off the message. “Domingo,” he said.
Trevor had followed him into the hall. He looked over.
Dan shook his head. “‘It’s not over yet.’ She actually said that less than an hour ago.”
Trevor watched Dan’s face. “You don’t sound surprised. Did you know you were going to get this message?”
Dan gave him an aggrieved look. “No. I didn’t know anything about it. How could I? Anyway, what does ‘not over yet’ mean? Lots of things are not over. Darryl Hillary still needs to be accounted for, for one thing. His life may be over, but his story isn’t finished till they catch his killer. Why is that significant?”
Trevor gave him a small smile. “I’m not trying to convince you of anything.”
“I know.”
Dan leaned in and kissed him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to gripe at you. Thank you for understanding me better than I understand myself sometimes.”
Trevor laughed. “Ah, there’s the rub! It’s not that I understand you better; it’s just that I’m not in denial about who you are.”
Ralph came over and gave Trevor an appealing look.
“I’ll walk Ralph while you phone the good detective back. Then afterward let’s share some body heat and say dirty things to one another.”
“Deal.”
They hadn’t intended to have sex in that heat, but once they started it was too hard to stop. No sleeping till this is over, Dan told himself. He was surprised by the immediacy of his need, both physically and emotionally. His hunger for Trevor was ravenous, as though nothing could contain or hold it back. Some days he felt as if it would expand until he burst. His life was suddenly, unexpectedly beginning to make sense, a defining force bringing coherence to chaos.
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