up. It’s not always good. People lose arms, breasts, get cancer, divorce. That’s life. You can’t prevent it.”
“I know that.”
“But what you may not know is how it feels.” He pointed to his head. “I know you understand it here.” His hand moved down to his heart. “But this is where it’s going to get you, if you’re not prepared. And no matter how much you dislike it, you can’t stop it from happening.”
Ked frowned as though his father had been lecturing him on his behaviour.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like an old-fashioned parent. Next I’ll be telling you I’m saying all this for your own good.” Dan smiled wanly. “Which I am, of course.”
He stopped and checked an incoming text. It was from someone named Lionel, claiming to be an accountant and asking to meet as soon as possible. This, he presumed, was the other half of Donny’s “perfect couple.” There was a pub listed at the bottom of the text. He hadn’t even agreed to take the job. It was presumptuous, but that was how the rich operated.
He looked up at his son. “Think about what I’m saying, okay?”
“Okay.”
“If you want me to help you rank the different universities, I can do that, though you probably know them well enough by now.”
Ked smiled. “I do.”
“Good.” He paused. “There’s a dog over in the corner in need of a walk.”
“Yeah, yeah … I know.”
Dan glanced back at the text. He didn’t want to disappoint Donny, though that was a feeble excuse for accepting a job he didn’t want. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be polite.
He typed a reply: I’m good for 7. Then for Donny’s sake he added: Looking forward to it.
Four
Accountable
Dan cast his gaze around the bar’s interior. Brass fittings, rough-hewn tables, hockey pennants on the walls. It wasn’t the sort of place he would expect an accountant to frequent, particularly a gay accountant, but it suited his purpose, which was simply to hear the man’s story, offer sympathy for his plight as he quaffed a single beer, then politely tell him to refer the case to the police. Due diligence done. His favour to Donny signed, sealed, and delivered. He’d offered to listen and listen he would. After that, it was out of his hands.
The man who came through the door was dressed in a bulky sweater over a track suit. Nicely muscled forearms and solid chest. Easy on the eyes. More athlete than accountant, Dan decided. Which went a long way toward explaining the casual sports pub atmosphere. He plunked himself down on the bench like a tennis player who had just played a particularly challenging round, winning both game and tournament.
“Hi, I’m Lionel.”
He smelled of cool things, minty and fresh. Dan could imagine running his hands through this man’s hair. Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.
“Dan.”
They shook and a waiter took their orders.
“Good eye,” Dan said. “How did you spot me so quickly?”
“Charles described you well. I think he might say you’re somewhat of a ‘type.’”
“I’ve heard that before.”
Over in a corner, someone scored a goal on a wide-screen TV and the bar was pandemonium for a moment before settling back into its dull routine of drinking and watching.
Lionel’s eyes met Dan’s again. The gaze held.
“Thanks for meeting me.” Lionel blushed. “I wasn’t sure at first if it was a good idea. I didn’t want to involve you and compromise anything to do with your work principles, but Charles insisted I at least hear what you have to say. He seems to think we’re all on common ground. Charles isn’t the most trusting person, so when he said you were on the level, I took his word for it.”
Dan didn’t say that being given the thumbs-up by a lawyer wasn’t his measure of a vote of confidence.
“I understand a little about your predicament,” Dan said, “but maybe you could fill in a few gaps. Whatever you’re comfortable telling me. I know that some of the things you did for Yuri Malevski may have skirted the bounds of regular accounting practices. I won’t pry, but at least be assured you can be as frank with me as you choose.”
Lionel’s face showed relief. “Thanks. It makes it easier for me to talk to you just knowing that.”
Dan watched him. In that instant, the breezy athlete was gone and a slightly world-weary accountant with real-life human concerns took his place.
“Since the murder, the police have been snooping around Yuri’s accounts, both business and personal. I’ve been advised by Charles to be truthful in my responses without offering up information that might implicate me in anything questionable.”
“That’s a smart stance,” Dan agreed.
The waiter returned with two pints of beer. Dan took a long, satisfying swallow while the hockey game rumbled on overhead.
“At first it was very routine. They wanted to hear the message Yuri left asking to meet when I returned from Mexico. Luckily I still had it on my phone, so I played it for them. Then the questions started. How often did we meet and what did we discuss and were there any unusual payments made by the bar?” Lionel leaned closer. “I told them I was aware Yuri paid for what we euphemistically called ‘security,’ but I didn’t say that I knew where it went. Technically, I didn’t know who or what he paid in that regard. In actuality, we’re talking about substantial payoffs to the police to leave the bar alone for various reasons, particularly because of the association it had with drugs.”
“Did Yuri ever ask you to make the payments personally?”
Lionel shook his head. “No. I made it clear from the start that I was not going to doing anything illegal, with or without his express consent. I did, however, make financial transactions at Yuri’s request, always in cash, from the bar’s profits. I handed them over to someone who, I assume, paid the police directly, but never in my presence.”
“And who was that?”
Here, Lionel’s gaze shifted to the far side of the bar, as though he sensed eavesdroppers. The other patrons were so oblivious to anything but the match being played out on the screen that it was hard to imagine anyone’s taking an interest in their low-key conversation.
Lionel locked eyes with Dan again. “At first, Yuri had a couple of drug dealers running the money for him, but then one of them got busted and that ended that. Over the last couple years he’d been dating a young Cuban guy. That was who was making the payoffs for him.”
“This was Santiago Suárez?”
“Yes. My part was simply to take a percentage from Saturday night’s payroll and give it to Santiago in cash. What he did with it or who he gave it to, I have no idea. I always insisted
