arrested Dan’s gaze. The perspective was shoddy. The eyes stared straight ahead, bright blue forget-me-nots, with a wooden gaze and flat features common to amateur portraits. It looked recent, so this wasn’t J.S. Lockie or his successor, Frederick S. MacGregor. Dan guessed it was Yuri Malevski. Unlike the dining-room seascapes, this work had little artistic merit. Not art then, just someone dabbling with a brush in an attempt to create a likeness of a man who had in all probability paid him. It didn’t suit the mental picture Dan had of a fastidious collector with well-defined tastes.
The scrawl at the bottom right caught his eye. A flamboyant pair of S’s, with their tails twisting away beneath. Santiago Suárez, Dan was willing to bet. You wouldn’t put up with mediocrity from Sotheby’s, but you might from a sexy, young boyfriend, even if it meant hiding the painting upstairs out of view.
He wandered to the window and looked out over the back garden. A cherry tree was in bloom, smoky tendrils of whitish-pink spreading over the ground. Spring had taken a firm hold. He was about to turn away when a figure slipped into view. Dan felt a jolt run down his spine. He hadn’t been alone after all.
Someone in a dark overcoat and cap had just left the house by the rear door. From that distance, it could have been anyone, male or female, young or old. A quick backward glance over the shoulder revealed the face of a young male wearing pale makeup. Dan stepped back from the window. That was all he saw before the boy disappeared through the gate.
Six
Rich Men
He was back in the sports pub with Charles and Lionel. Lionel was pensive, making him seem even more appealing, while Charles simply looked out of place in his grey striped suit and wide pink necktie. (Though a lawyer would probably call it coral, Dan noted sourly.)
“He had dark, curly hair. Young. Early twenties, maybe even a teenager. Pale face. He wore a long, grey, trench coat and a newsboy cap.”
Lionel was listening carefully. He had been startled when Dan told him about the intruder he’d seen leaving Yuri Malevski’s Parkdale mansion.
“Sounds like Ziggy,” he said at last. “He was one of Yuri’s hangers-on. Just a kid, really, though I think Yuri said he was a drug dealer. Maybe even a heroin addict. Do you remember, Charles?”
Dan glanced at Charles, whose gaze seemed anchored to a potted plant on the windowsill. His face was expressionless.
“Not particularly,” he said at last.
“Any idea what he might be doing there?” Dan asked.
Lionel shrugged. “I have no idea. None at all. I don’t know why anyone would be there. He was sort of a sad kid, a lost boy. I used to see him at the Saddle, even in the daytime. It was like he had nowhere else to go.”
“How would he have gotten inside the house?”
Lionel looked bewildered. “He must have the code. You can’t get in without it.”
“Wasn’t it changed after the murder?” Dan asked.
“No.” He looked sheepish. “Once the police finished the investigation, I reset it to the original code. Just an accounting thing.” Lionel turned to Charles. “You don’t remember Ziggy? Sort of a Goth look?”
Charles shook his head. “Not specifically, no. Yuri’s place was a zoo, with all kinds of people hanging around.” He turned to Dan. “Is it possible you left the door open and he followed you in?”
Dan shook his head. “I was careful to latch the door behind me when I arrived. I didn’t want anyone to know I was on the premises, apart from a nosy neighbour who didn’t seem to care for Yuri.”
Lionel shrugged. “Then there’s no question: he has the code.”
“How would he have got it?” Dan asked.
“Yuri must have given it to him. There were always a few people who knew it. If it became a problem, he just reprogrammed it for a while. That happened a couple times a year, but he always set it back to the same code afterwards. His birth date. Easier for him to remember.”
“Who else had the code that you know about?”
Lionel considered. “Off the top of my head, I can think of a few people. Santiago always had it. Probably one or two of the kids who hung out here.”
“And presumably they could have given it to others?”
Lionel nodded. “I suppose.”
Charles snapped his fingers. “What about that trannie?” He looked over at Dan. “There was one in particular I took a strong dislike to. I think he — she — it — whatever the correct term for a transgendered person is —”
“I believe the correct pronoun is ‘ze,’” Dan said.
“Okay, then ze was probably a transsexual, but I never had my suspicions confirmed.”
“Do you recall a name?”
“It was one of those neutral names.” Charles looked at Lionel. “Wasn’t it Jan?”
Lionel nodded. “Yes, that’s it. Jan used to work there from time to time.”
“Doing what?” Dan asked.
Lionel looked perplexed. “I couldn’t really say. I got the idea Yuri hired Jan as some sort of party warden.”
“A drug enforcer,” Dan offered.
“Maybe. All the kids were in awe of Jan, though I never understood why. It was as if Jan had some hold over them. Whatever it was, I never learned.”
“Can you give me a description?”
“Besides scary?” Charles smirked. “Well, at first glance you’d probably say woman. Spiked hair, shaggy eyebrows, lots of piercings and make-up, but if you looked long enough you’d start to second-guess yourself. Big shoulders, muscular arms. That’s what I recall. There were enough qualities of both sexes to make things confusing. As often as I ran into Jan, I could never say for sure what sex I was looking at.”
“How did Jan and Yuri get along? Any bad blood there?”
Lionel thought this over before answering. “Nothing I could put my finger on, but I once overheard an argument they were having. Yuri said, ‘If you can’t do this for me then you can find another donor to bleed dry.’ That was the phrase he used.”
“Do you have any idea what wasn’t being done to Yuri’s satisfaction?”
Lionel shook his head. “None at all, though I remember I was instructed not to pay Jan that month. Jan must have known not to expect anything, because I was never asked for anything.”
Dan considered. “It might be interesting to find out what it was.”
“I can try, but Jan pretty much stopped coming around after that. As I said, there were a lot of people Yuri might stop speaking to for a period of time, then resume just as suddenly for no apparent reason.”
“What
