“Are you here for me? You’re almost an hour early.”
I decided to play along. “I am? Shit, sorry.”
“It’s Dave, right?”
“Yeah, Dave.”
“You’re gonna need to give me a few minutes. Been playing ball with my boys. Gotta take a shower. Studio’s in the back.” He lowered his voice like this was a secret. “It used to be a garage. You can hang out there if you want.”
“Um, sure, I’ll do that.”
“I’ll be like twenty minutes.”
He ran up into the house. I headed up the driveway. At the top, beyond the Shelby, was a ramshackle garage. I entered via a side door. With very minimal adjustments, the garage had been turned into a massage studio.
It was one large room with a couple of small windows. The walls had been covered in sheetrock and then painted a light beige. An industrial carpet covered the cement floor. A bare mattress sat on the floor in the center of the room; a straight back chair lazed against one wall, while a cheap stereo set up clustered in a corner. Candles were scattered here and there.
A lot came into focus really fast. The studio was Eddie’s. It’s where he’d done his in-calls, with his fiancée living less than twenty feet away. Sylvia knew what he did for a living. She knew everything. Not to mention, he’d been dead less than a week and she had a replacement. It hit me that this is where I’d have come if I hadn’t asked Eddie for an outcall. I might not be involved in his death at all if I’d asked for an incall. Eddie had called me for a date so he could hide out at my place. That’s why he wouldn’t leave. He was hiding from…whoever killed him. If I’d chosen to have my massage in this little studio, Eddie would have hidden somewhere else. He might still be alive. Or, more likely, I’d have no idea he was dead.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I turned to find Sylvia standing in the doorway. I was able to get a better look at her than I had through the security door. Most of the time, she was probably very pretty. Her dark hair had been professionally highlighted with auburn. Though well done, her makeup that day was heavy yet still didn’t manage to conceal the circles under her eyes. She wore a black blouse and a pair of cut-off jeans. I guess that passed for mourning.
“Isn’t this romantic?” I said, waving a hand around the room.
“This is none of your business.”
“It’s Eddie’s studio, isn’t it? He’s been dead a couple of days? And you’ve got it booked?”
“Javier’s table is missing. Do you have it?”
“Did you ask the police?” I knew she hadn’t. She probably acted surprised when they told her what Eddie did for a living. She certainly wouldn’t want them to know she wanted the table back for his replacement. “What’s his name? Eddie’s replacement?”
“That’s also none of your business.”
“Obviously you knew what Eddie was doing for a living.”
She scowled at me. “When can you bring by the table?”
“I didn’t say I had Eddie’s table.”
“You have it.”
“Did Eddie talk about his clients? Like the one who put bruises on his neck a couple days before he was killed?”
“If I tell you, will I get the table back?”
“If I have it. Sure.” There wasn’t a chance in hell she was getting that table back from me. “Tell me what happened to him.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. This guy from Pasadena got rough with him. He’d never seen him before. That’s all.”
“Did you tell that to the police?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not their business.”
“The guy from Pasadena, do you have his number?”
“No. Eddie made own his appointments.”
“Do you know what day that happened? The police can check Eddie’s phone records and find the guy. He’s probably the guy who killed him.”
“When can I have the table?” Her voice was crisp, business-like.
“You don’t care if they catch Eddie’s killer?” “I care about the table.”
I stood there a moment, not sure what to do. Then, curiosity got the better of me. “You never minded what Eddie did with guys?”
Raising her chin defiantly, she asked, “When you were with Javier he didn’t come, did he?” The first time, no; the second, yes. I decided not to answer. She went on. “He saved that for me. He saved the best part for his lady.”
As I walked out of the studio, she said, “What about the table?”
“No fucking way.”
She ran after me. “Hey! You said you’d give it to me if I told you who hurt Eddie.”
“But you didn’t tell me. You lied.”
She didn’t even bother to deny it. “I want that table. It’s mine.”
Walking down her driveway, I realized she wasn’t just lying about the guy from Pasadena. She was lying about a lot more. I turned back on her.
“You know who killed Eddie, don’t you?”
Her faced hardened. She forgot about the table. “Get off my property.”
“You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?”
She turned to go back up to the house. “I’m calling the police if you’re not gone in ten seconds.”
After giving her a big smile, I went through the gate and was back on the street. I walked up to my car thinking if Eddie hadn’t been killed I never would have known about Sylvia. I could have hired him a hundred times, and I wouldn’t have known. I wondered exactly how involved she was with Eddie’s business. Did she know some of his clients? Did she ever join in?
The thing she’d said about Eddie saving his orgasm for her kept coming back to me. He’d done that when he saw me as a client. But when he saw me on a date, he did come. Did that mean he liked
