Mystery in London

By Zak Robar

Ray, a rich socialite from Boston travels to London to attend a posh New Years Eve Party. He arrives to find his Boyfriend Marcus, indebted to a gang. After an attempt is made on Marcus's life Ray, finds himself involved in a investigation with the Criminal Investigation Department (CID) that includes drug smuggling money laundering, and murder.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 17, 2006
• ISBN: 9781483589039

Book preview

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

Arrive in London

I ARRIVE IN LONDON WITH A SPLITTING HEADACHE, which is not an exception for me after a long flight, and this one feels like the mother of all headaches. I rifle through my large overcoat pockets for the aspirin I always have handy when I fly. I pull out the bottle along with several bits of paper with messages and numbers scribbled on them -- I rarely remember to program numbers into my cell phone -- mints, a paperclip and my passport which I had stuffed into my pocket after customs.

I have never had a problem with jet lag. I don’t have a clue as to what jet lag feels like really, only what people tell me. I attribute it to having flown across the Atlantic so much in my life that it has no effect on me, but I think I would trade this throbbing pain for a nice dose of jet lag right now. After that lengthy customs procedure and the long wait for luggage, my only interest is a hot bath and a stiff drink.

I miss Marcus being here. It’s no real surprise that he is not meeting me at the airport, but it feels like he should be here with me as he has been for the past few years. His absence makes this trip vacant and dull. After the Christmas holiday at my parent’s house outside Boston, we usually travel back to London together. We always celebrate New Year’s with our mutual friend, David, at his home in Kensington. Every year, he throws a fantastic party for selected guests from London and different parts of the world. It is definitely an event to keep on one’s calendar, if one is lucky enough to even get an invitation. Marcus and I are always standard guests.

Last year’s party was one of the best yet, and I don’t know how he will top it this year, but knowing David, he has something up his sleeve. Thinking of last New Year’s Eve makes me miss Marcus even more. We had such a wonderful time, but that seems so distant to me now, and I guess on this trip, I will find out the real reasons behind his behavior the past few months.

I am very well capable of getting around London and from Heathrow on my own, but it is the thought that Marcus would not arrange his schedule to meet me that bothers me. He is full of excuses these days; like the excuse that he is so busy at the estate office, he has little time for anything else (including me it seems). However, if he is so busy at the agency, if that were true, there should be customers lining up for blocks outside his door, anxious to buy property, but the revenue from the estate office doesn’t reflect that. I fear the bank is about to close its doors if he doesn’t show a profit soon.

Many things about Marcus has changed. I used to know him so well, but in the past few months, I feel I don’t know him at all. There is an air of aloofness in his voice and actions lately. My mother was sceptical of his reasons for not spending Christmas in Rockport this year as he had done expectedly the last few years. Mother noted the difference in his voice also, how it seems to have changed. She remarked that while talking with him on the phone that his conversation was short and vague, and she also noted a hint of irritation, as though he would rather not be in a conversation at all. I think she suspects something is heavy on his mind. She had half-heartedly accepted his reasons about spending Christmas with his family… Although his family is not known for celebrating or acknowledging holidays, she accepted his words anyway. She said, I am happy that his family is celebrating the holidays this year… families should be together. And while she didn’t plan for him being at our home this year, she has me loaded down with gifts to bring to him anyway.

My mother is not a worrier but she seems to worry about Marcus, as she has treated him like a son always. She often inquires about how he is doing in London, and always tells me, with great joy about the last delightful conversation they had together when he used to call her. I was a bit jealous, but I love Marcus and I love my mother for her understanding and for being accepting of Marcus as well. From the first time I brought him home with me, she realized that we had an unusually strong bond, and any question about my sexuality was clear to her then. I think that she knew my story for a while even before I did, but never let on. She has always disliked that word (homosexual); she says it sounds so textbook and sterile. From the very beginning, she accepted my being gay. My stepfather, Cyril, was less open-armed about it, but he accepted it all the same.

What will I have to report back home about this trip? I imagine with her great insight, and being the kind of woman who never takes situations or people at face value, Mother suspects something dark is going on to cause such a change in Marcus. She didn’t say anything about Marcus when I was leaving other than, Give him my love and David as well…

I did call Marcus shortly before leaving for Logan Airport. I asked how he was… There was the standard reply, Things are splendid, which I knew was not true, and when I said, I love you, Marcus, he said, Me too, but it sounded unbelievable and dry, and instead of my being happy as I always used to feel, I felt sad and confused. I feel like I am the only one in this relationship now.

I attribute his behavior to the fact that his business is in bad shape and he has all those financial problems on his mind, even though he always told me that things are splendid. I know better, for the fact that I backed him and arranged a loan for his real estate business and the bank has already called me about their concerns with the problems the business is having. Marcus was then three months in arrears on his loan payments, so I took it all in stride and covered everything, but now he is further in debt to the bank. I figure I will deal with it if he gives up all hope. I will be there to pick up the pieces, and I am sure that there will be many at the rate things are progressing.

Ok, Ray, I say to myself, put Marcus out of your mind for a while and let’s concentrate on getting this luggage out to the reception. I wish that I had Sarah here to help with all this, but she is in New Hampshire with her family. Sarah with her cool head and infectious smile would have already had me out the door and into the car. I miss her more than I can imagine when she’s not around. I take her for granted sometimes, as far as being my assistant is concerned. (Mental note, tell Sarah how much she is appreciated.)

It seems that 9/11 is having a great influence on flying this year, as it should. Things are slower than usual due to the high security, therefore everything is quite busy, but moving as fast as can be expected I guess, but with a sense of edginess in the air. I cannot wait to get away from Heathrow. I am still thinking about a hot bath and a nice scotch more than ever.

Wheeling my cart into the receiving area of the airport, I watch the families and friends greeting each other… Some are even crying with joy. I know David will not be here to greet me as he is busy with some relatives, so I only have to look for the driver who David said would be waiting for me

David is such a good friend and he knows me so well. He is a strikingly good-looking man with black hair and deep blue eyes that always look as if they can see into one’s soul. He has more grace and charm than anyone I know. He will be celebrating his fiftieth birthday in February, and I am planning a big surprise party here in London. Sarah has already put most of the details together, restaurant booked, invitations already out. I don’t have to worry about a thing as long as she is involved.

I keep glancing around, looking for the driver… I should know him, as he has driven me about London several times, but I always forget his name, and it always embarrasses me a little, so I am looking and trying to remember, driver, driver name, name… Shepard? That’s it, a very strange name, but you would think not one easily forgotten. As I am looking, I wonder what if David has the arrival time wrong. Who could blame him as he is so busy with family and trying to organize this huge event, New Year’s Eve.

I pull my phone out of my deep coat pocket after searching all over, as it never seems to be in the same place I last put it. I start to scan the screen for David’s number, when I feel a burst of hot air on the nape of my neck. I lurch forward, almost tripping over my luggage. I catch my balance, then turn around. I am looking into a face wearing an impish grin on a very handsome man. It is Marcus.

He says, Did you really think that I would not be here to meet you when you arrived, you silly Willie?

I am thoroughly shocked. I don’t know how to greet him… should I be angry? I am very glad that he is here.

I look at his attire, as it is not the usual suit and tie he wears for work. He’s wearing a leather motorcycle jacket with boots and a pair of tight jeans with rips and tears; they look as if they will fall apart at any minute. He also has his blond curls sheared very short. I always loved his hair, and thought this is strange dress for Marcus…

This is a complete surprise, I say… How did you get away from the office?

I took the day off and decided to meet you and catch up. I haven’t seen you since August, Marcus smiles.

I am surprised you remember, I snap. Sorry, I didn’t mean that, I am really happy to see you, Marcus.

We embrace tightly and I kiss him on the cheek. Mother sends her love as well.

Your mum is the best, he says, and I am sorry about Christmas.

I don’t push the issue that his family never celebrates the holidays. I know that I will find out the real reason he didn’t come for Christmas sooner or later. For now, I am in a good place in time with Marcus here with me.

Have you seen Shepard? I ask. He is supposed to meet me.

Yes, he is here… He drove me.

Marcus waves to a man, and I notice that it is the driver… I say, Thank the gods, it’s Shepard.

Shepard has been David’s driver forever and is quite used to being around a gay crowd, but no one knows much about him. He is very quiet. David said that he has never heard of him having a companion. We don’t know what his sexual preference is, or if he has one for that matter. He is a tall man about fifty-five years old with a long face, a pointed nose, sparkling gray eyes and very white hair which makes him look older than he is. He is always in his black uniform. I think that he takes his job very seriously, and I have never seen him laugh, but there is a half smile always on his face.

He makes his way up to us and says, Good afternoon, Mr. Ray, I trust that your flight was pleasant?

Yes, Shepard, it was okay, but I have a splitting headache and the aspirin I took isn’t doing much good. I need a bath and a drink…

Marcus grins at me with that sly grin of his that he always makes when he is thinking naughty thoughts and he says, Baths can be fun.

I smile back and say, I have a headache. We both laugh.

Shepard says, I am sure that we can arrange for all your needs, Mr. Ray.

He takes my luggage cart and Marcus grabs one of my carry-on bags.

How long are you staying, Willie? There’s enough luggage here for you and Mz Terrie.

Mz Terrie? This isn’t enough luggage for her alone; besides, some of it is for you. Just because you didn’t make it to Rockport for Christmas, don’t think Mother forgot you. I think you made out like a bandit. She asks about you all the time…

How is your mum?

I notice Marcus getting away from the Christmas mystery.

She is good, and Cyril? He’s well. He asked about you as well.

Marcus doesn’t say anything about it as we make our way out to the parking space where Shepard is already loading the bags into the trunk of the car.

Thank you, Shepard.

I smile as he opens the door. Marcus slides in after me and gives me a big wet kiss on the cheek, licking my face with his tongue…

Yuck, that feels horrid, Marcus, I laugh… I hope that I taste good after that long flight?

You are delicious, he says, I know what I want from you for Christmas.

I can’t help but burst out laughing. This is like the old Marcus playing and joking. I like it and think that things are okay. I am probably worrying about nothing.

Where is your double, Marcus sighs. Terrie?

Oh, she is in California with the family. I’m sure she is about to die from boredom. I expect she will come later, but who knows with her? She missed last year and has said nothing to me about making it this year. I hope she comes.

Marcus says, I need to check and see if you are both conjoined twins… separated. Do you do anything without her anymore?

He does not sound amused.

Ahhh Marcus, I think that she is getting married. I am sure that her mother is advocating it.

Marcus laughs, Who would marry Terrie?

I’ve met Al… He’s from New York City and very good looking and seems nice. I would marry him for a day, but kidding aside, she says that she loves him.

That is bullocks. Terrie has no room in her life for anyone but Terrie. Terrie loves Terrie.

I say, We’ll have to wait and see. If she does marry him, I give the marriage three months.

Marcus moans, Is she staying at David’s if she comes?

I’m sure that she will; she has an open invitation from him.

Uuhhh, and I don’t see what David sees in her, says Marcus. Don’t get me wrong. I get on okay with Terrie, but David dotes on her like she is some princess, and we both know how she can be.

Well, that is David, and it’s not for us to say who he dotes on. Marcus, if I didn’t know you better, I would think that you were jealous of her.

I’m not at all. Let’s just forget about Terrie. I don’t want to talk about her all the way into London.

I say, That suits me fine.

We ride a while not saying much, just chit chat. Marcus is funny and he had made me forget about my headache, but I still want a drink.

Shepard, is there anything to drink back here?

He says, Mr. Ray, you should find everything you need in the bar. If you require anything else, I shall stop for it.

That’s fine, Shepard, I’m sure it’s all good. I look in the bar and see the usual assortment of spirits: gin, vodka, scotch, whiskey, and mixers. I pull out a glass and the scotch and start to pour one.

Marcus says, Allow me.

This is not like Marcus. This is extreme kindness, and I think, he wants something…

As he pours, he says, I am making this a short one. I’m sure we will have drinks later with David.

I sit back and don’t say much as we ride through the hectic London traffic. I can’t help thinking that there is something going on with Marcus, the sudden change of mind to meet me at Heathrow, the obvious sexual advances, and the kindness. I will surely find out soon.

CHAPTER TWO

Arrive in Kensington

WE ARRIVE IN KENSINGTON. DAVID’S HOUSE IS A WELcome sight, as it is a lovely old English home. Shepard pulls into the circular drive in front of the big Georgian style house; I think that this house has been in David’s family for several generations. It is quite large and beautiful. Shepard gets out and proceeds to open the door. I slide out with Marcus behind me as Shepard says, The housekeeper is waiting and Mr. David will be along soon. Myra will tend to all your needs. We had not fully exited the car when I see Myra, the housekeeper, outside the door waiting for us.

She is a large Irish woman with a moon shaped face, her ginger colored hair up in a twisted bun on top of her head, and strands falling loosely about the back of her neck; she always looks like she has been working hard all day.

Good afternoon Mr. Ray and Mr. Marcus. I hope that you are well. It’s pleasant to see you. I hope that you had a nice flight, Mr. Ray.

It’s very good to see you too, Myra. The flight experience was slow. I’m happy to be done with it. I am very interested in a hot bath and a scotch; if you can provide that, I will love you forever.

Myra has a grin across her red face. I have embarrassed her. Yes, Mr. Ray, I will arrange it right away.

Myra, I can run my bath. Show me to my room and I will be fine.

Myra takes one of the suitcases and walks ahead of us into the foyer and up the stairs. You will be on the second floor, Mr. Ray. I will get you settled in your room and bring you a drink.

Thank you so much, Myra. I may also take a short nap. When are you expecting David?

Oh, I would not know what to tell you, sir, but he is expected for dinner. I know that much… I am sure he will make an effort to be back to see you as soon as he can.

Myra leads us to the second door on the left down the long hallway… She opens the door to the room. I enter and rest my bag on the bed as Marcus puts the other bag beside mine.

I will unpack your bags later, Mr. Ray, after your nap.

Shepard sets my other two suitcases by the bed and bids us both good day. I doubt we will need him again today. I have no intentions of leaving the house. I look around the spotless room. The smell of furniture polish beckons a window to be opened, but Myra means well; she is just trying to make things nice.

After Shepard and Myra leave the room, Marcus shuts the door and says, Now, alone at last…

With that naughty grin on his face, he walks over to me and hugs me very tight. He kisses my forehead and my face, down my neck, and then he kisses me on the lips with a passion that seems misplaced. I am happy about it, but his actions don’t match the attitude that I have perceived on the telephone as of late.

I gently push him away and say, Marcus I need that bath, come talk to me while I soak in the tub.

Marcus looks surprised as he follows me into the bathroom. I start running my bath when there is a knock on the door. Marcus opens it and Myra comes in with a tray, which she sets on a table next to the bed…

She says, I remember that you prefer ice in your drink, Mr. Ray, so I brought some.

I love you, I call to Myra from the bathroom, which brings a huge grin to her red face again

I can get this, says Marcus, Thank you, Myra.

She says, Use the buzzer if you need anything. She leaves the room and closes the door behind her.

Marcus puts some ice in a glass and pours a short drink for me and one for himself. He brings the drinks into the bathroom and hands me one. Cheers, Cheers we toasted as we clinked the glasses.

I love you, Marcus.

I love you too, Willie, says Marcus.

I soak in the tub with Marcus sitting there making small talk. I make sure that the conversation doesn’t veer to Marcus’s business. I ask him how his parents are and if we would be visiting them. He says that his mother isn’t feeling well and it would be better if we let them be this holiday. I suspect that Marcus hasn’t seen them at all during the holiday.

Okay Marcus, but I don’t want to seem rude. We have always visited them on New Year’s Day…

I leave it at that, not believing him, and not asking further questions about it. We talk a while longer until I can feel the hot bath and scotch making me a bit sleepy.

Oh, I need to give you all your Christmas gifts. The second larger carry-on bag is all for you.

I dry off and put on a robe, and taking Marcus by the hand, I lead him to the bed where the bag is.

I wish that you hadn’t done this, Willie.

It wasn’t all my doing… Did you think my mother would forget you on Christmas?

I didn’t do gifts this year. Being with my parents doesn’t evoke a holiday spirit.

Marcus, I’m just happy to have you here, and anyway my gift to my parents had your name on it too.

What did we give your mum?

An antique cameo-which my mother collects- and Cyril, we gave him a case of scotch… They loved the gifts. Mother would rather give gifts anyway.

We sit there on the bed while Marcus opens his presents one by one. There are the assorted gifts: gold cufflinks, ties, an Arpell watch, sweaters and imported chocolates from France, to name a few. The watch came from me; it is engraved on the back Ever yours, love Willie.

I say, You need a new watch, so I couldn’t resist.

My mother went overboard for Marcus, giving him gift certificates for clothes and tailored suits at two shops in Saville Row. Mother thinks that you can never have too many suits.

Marcus says, I’m embarrassed by all of these things.

Just enjoy them, Marcus. We enjoy giving gifts.

Marcus looks at me and says, This is your gift, and he pulls out an envelope from his coat pocket and hands it to me. I open it, ripping the envelope in anticipation, and to my surprise, it is airline tickets. He has booked a holiday in Quepos, Costa Rica.

Oh my, Marcus, I don’t know what to say.

It’s time that we get out of the cold, he says. Costa Rica is beautiful and it was wonderful the last time we were there. We seldom get away together, Willie. You will love it. Just like the last time

I’m sure I will, Marcus. If you are there I will love it.

Marcus gathers all the wrapping paper from the bed and stuffs it into a small trash basket in the bathroom. He walks back in the room with that evil grin on his face and says, You still owe me a gift. Don’t think I have forgotten. I want to collect right now.

I smile, then laugh. We have our very own private Christmas that afternoon on the bed, making love for the first time in four months. It is wonderful to have Marcus so happy, and I am happy, and have been from the time he met me at the airport until now. We are stuck in that time and place where everything is wonderful and I feel great love for Marcus. I wish this time would never end.

Afterwards, we both fall asleep exhausted.

CHAPTER THREE

I WAKE TO A LOUD CACKLING NOISE IN THE HALLWAY… Opening my eyes, I have to adjust for a minute and realize that I am in a strange room. Quickly, I remember I am at David’s house. I glance out of the heavy curtained window to my left. It is dusk outside, which means I must have slept for a few hours. I look over to my right, but Marcus is gone. I wonder when he left. I sit there for a minute recalling my arrival and the ride to David’s house and time spent with Marcus. Jumping up from the bed, I switch on the large lamp at the bedside table. It casts an amber glow across the room, which is warm and pleasant, but where is Marcus? I guess he is out with the other guests in the house somewhere. I am sure that there are several houseguests here for the party and staying through New Years as well. I didn’t think to ask Myra what guests were already here.

I pick up my suitcases, put them on the bed - Myra hasn’t had a chance to unpack since I was sleeping. I decide to get dressed and go down and meet everyone, and also find Marcus and David. I look at myself in the tall mirror in the room to check my hair. I put on a pair of black slacks, white shirt, with a black and red sweater vest, which is supposed to be travel wear, but there are always wrinkles.

I open the door and look into an empty hallway. I know that I didn’t dream that strange cackling, laughing noise. I walk out into the hallway and start toward the stairs when someone calls, Ray…

I turn to see Al, Terrie’s boyfriend walking toward me. If Alfred is here, then Terrie is as well. What a surprise! My spirits lift immediately at the thought of having Terrie here this year.

Hello Al, how are you? When did you get here?

We arrived a couple hours ago… Terrie is dressing, so I thought I would go down for a drink, because it takes her forever….

Have you seen David or Marcus? I ask. David wasn’t here when I arrived.

Yes, I met him; he is a very nice fellow. I like him, but I don’t recall a Marcus. He could be here though.

I say, It’s not hard to like David. He is one of my best friends. This party should be fantastic, if it is anything like last year.

Yes, I heard that it was a party to remember, and some would like to forget. I heard that some guests were a bit too festive..

Yes, they were, I’m anxious to see how many don’t return this year for fear of embarrassment, but everyone was in a fog and I doubt anyone remembers. I can’t help but surprise Terrie, I say. I haven’t seen her in weeks.

Ray, you two catch up. I’ll go down stairs for a drink, and if I meet Marcus, I’ll tell him that you’re looking for him. Third door on the right is our room. She’ll be happy to see you, Ray, she has talked about you the whole trip.

Thanks, Al, we’ll see you shortly.

Gods, he is good looking, I think, as I walk down the hall, tall, tanned with a crooked smile that is very sexy. I can see why Terrie likes him; he looks like a model as she does. They make a very good-looking couple.

I remember the last time Terrie and I travelled together. It was a flight from Paris to Boston. I remember it so well, but it happened last August. I was having a problem with my nervous stomach. I turned to Terrie, occupying the seat next to me… She was talking non-stop. I listened for a second to her medium pitched voice… I think she has a good speaking voice (in moderation), round and easy to listen to, kind of a sexy voice, but that day, she was talking way too much for me. I blocked her voice out, as it’s my usual way to deal with her. She would be noise in the background to me this trip.

I glanced over at Terrie to give her assurance that I am paying attention to her chatter, which consists of something about something someone did; it’s all just gossip. I would never remember any of it, even if I were listening. She flipped through some big glossy magazine, probably about fashion, the kind with lots of pretty, air brushed models wearing the latest designer wear. There is very little print in these magazines other than the ads. I realized that day how much I love Terrie even with all her faults. Terrie looks like the proverbial dumb blonde, but she is a very intelligent person; it’s just that she cares little about things that others might consider important, such as presidential elections, the economy and world affairs. Everything bores Terrie except shopping. She is her happiest in a showroom being catered to. If it’s not happening to her at that moment, she has no interest. Terrie is really a good person, despite some character flaws.

Terrie was born twenty-seven years ago in Boston, to one of the old prominent families -- Vanfossen. She is not used to having any way, but her own. Like my family home, hers is one of the old mansions on Beacon Street that survived the hacking of the 1980s, when people were selling and turning some of the older single family homes into apartments and condos. Many of the families moved away from Back Bay years ago. It’s all a shame. People were much more family oriented in the 1800s, as so many of the extended families shared the same residence. Things are much different in that neighborhood now.

We are the heirs to our ancestral homes with many strange clauses in the wills; for example, one states among other things, that Terrie and Adam’s (Terrie’s brother) home cannot be sold, and must be passed on to the living children; otherwise it can be donated to charity or the City of Boston. Many descendants of these old families with similar wills have found loopholes and decided to sell or have the houses turned into multi-family residences. Terrie and I will never go that route. We will probably keep our homes until we pass them on to our heirs or we die. Terrie very seldom visits her property, which is a four-story mansion, vacant and locked, with no staff to take care of it. It’s mostly used for storage for her art, furniture, and things bought on trips through Europe and India. She has no clue as to what she has in there. She has threatened to donate the house to a charity, but then she thinks about where she would store her things, which is Terrie’s life. Accumulating things, shopping and shipping things back to Boston to be stored in that mammoth house. She quickly changes her mind about giving it up.

Terrie looks like a Scandinavian beauty, tall and thin with blue eyes and long straight blonde hair… She has the looks you see in