Chapter Fourteen

Declan stood in the kitchenette, frothing milk for a latte. He deftly poured the heated milk into the espresso, even making a leaf pattern on the surface.

He made himself an Americano and carried them both into the reception area.

Charlie lay on the couch, twisted like a corpse. His hair seemed to point in ten directions at once. His mouth was open, and a trickle of drool ran across his cheek.

The clock read eight-thirty a.m.

"Good morning, princess," Declan chirped.

"Umph," Charlie mumbled as he twisted his head towards the sound. He absentmindedly wiped the slobber from his face, while gradually righting himself. "Ow." He cringed, then rubbed his neck and smacked his lips as if trying to get them to make a coherent word.

"Here," Declan said, passing him a latte. "This might help."

"Thanks," Charlie said as he took the cup and sipped.

Declan stood there, perfectly coiffed and dressed in a pristine white shirt and khakis.

"How…?" Charlie said, as he pointed to Declan's hair, then shirt and pants.

"Years of practice. Now, pull yourself together. You can use the shower upstairs. Give me your shirt and I'll iron it while you're getting cleaned up. Your pants will be fine."

"What's the rush?"

"I have more questions I want to ask Katherine Mann. I texted her this morning and set up a meeting at her place at nine-thirty. After that, we're going to meet with Sheldon Prescott."

* * * *

Charlie locked himself in the bathroom. He'd refused to undress in Declan's presence. There was no way Charlie was going to let Declan see him without his shirt on—especially in light of what he had seen the night before. If he took all of the muscles in his body and bundled them together, they still wouldn't amount to one of Declan's pecs. Charlie was a skinny torso balanced on top of a big ass and too-thick thighs. It was a sight he kept to himself.

"The iron's hot," Declan called out.

Charlie wrapped one towel around his waist, then a second around his shoulders. He opened the door a crack and quickly handed out his shirt before closing the door.

Charlie looked around the bathroom. It was nothing fancy. A toilet, sink and large shower. For a guy who lived on his own, Declan kept it pretty clean—thank God. Charlie couldn't stand mouldy showers.

He turned the tap and when the water ran hot, he dropped his armour of towels and stepped in. The soap and washcloth were already wet from Declan's earlier shower. Charlie held the cloth to his nose and inhaled. It had been up against Declan. He rubbed it all over his own body, scrubbing slowly with the cloth, eventually wrapping it around his now-erect penis and jerking off until he came. He thought about rinsing the cloth clean, then changed his mind. He hung it up where he'd found it and hoped that Declan wouldn't wonder why he had taken so long.

After his shower, Charlie found his neatly pressed shirt on the bed. He dressed and made his way downstairs to Declan's office.

"Here. Let's have a look at you." Declan looked Charlie up and down. "You clean up nice. You'll do the company proud. Now, grab a notebook and pen and let's go."

Declan handed him a medium-sized plastic suitcase.

"Superhero costumes?" Charlie joked.

"Camera equipment. You'll have to learn how to use it eventually."

"Cool." Charlie loved tech.

It was a half-hour drive from the office to the Mann house. Charlie chose to ride in the back seat of the van so that he could play with the camera equipment. Declan was lucky that he liked having his picture taken, because Charlie took dozens of them, close-ups of various body parts—ears were of particular interest—and profile shots, after Charlie had shifted into the front passenger seat.

"I'm pretending you're a body found at a crime scene."

"Charming."

Charlie continued shooting, playing with shutter speed and aperture settings. He was a quick study when it came to anything with a battery and circuit boards.

Katherine Mann's house was in Mount Royal, one of Calgary's wealthiest neighbourhoods. It was a two-storey Georgian-style estate home, located only a few houses down from the Swedish Consulate.

They pulled into the driveway, got out of the van and Declan rang the bell. After a few seconds, Katherine opened the door. Gone were her designer clothes, meticulously groomed hair and impeccably applied makeup. Instead, she wore a loose-fitting tracksuit and looked like she hadn't slept in days. Katherine said nothing, but stepped aside and ushered them in.

The three sat in the comfortable living room. Without asking, she brought in a French press, three mugs, creamer and a sugar bowl.

"I assume you'll join me. It's the only thing keeping me running."

"Please," Charlie said. "May I pour?"

"Thanks. You're a doll," she said, before settling into a deep comfortable chair. She pulled her legs up, and tucked them beneath her.

"Milk and sugar?" Charlie asked.

"I'd better have milk. And a lot of it. My stomach is probably bleeding by now," she replied.

Charlie set her cup on the side table nearest her. He poured cups for himself and Declan.

"Is it safe to assume that you've heard nothing from Ian?" Declan asked.

"Nothing."

"Have you contacted anyone—relatives, business partners or friends—to see if they've had any news?"

"There are no relatives," she said. "I've messaged most of our friends with no luck. As for business contacts… I…I haven't had the energy to do that yet. It's a tricky thing, business. You have to be so careful about what people find out, and when."

Declan leaned forward. "Why would you say that? Has Ian been involved in any contentious business dealings lately?"

Katherine paused for a moment as she looked at the table. "I forgot the scones." She got up and headed out of the room.

Declan and Charlie waited for a few minutes before Charlie called out, "Mrs Mann, may I be of some assistance? Mrs Mann?" He made eye contact with Declan, and they both got up at the same time.

They found her in the kitchen, staring at a large ceramic bowl filled with what appeared to be dough. The counter was cluttered with a bag of flour, boxes of baking soda and salt, a bowl of currants and the remains of a pound of butter. She was shaking her head.

"I could swear I baked these this morning," she said, talking towards the counter before looking up at the two men. "I bake when I'm stressed and… I must have gained two pounds over the past few days. I even left the oven on. I'm losing my fucking mind!"

"I'll tell you what…" Charlie said, looking around. "Why don't we head back to the living room and you can bake them later? We're not going to be that long, anyway."

Katherine nodded and led the other two back into the living room. Once they were all seated, Declan said, "I was asking about any business dealings that might have gone bad?"

She thought for a moment. "I know that a development group was trying to buy his property downtown, but Ian had his own plans for the building."

"Do you know the name of the company?"

She paused. "Ian never told me."

"Did your husband seem particularly worried about this other company?" Declan pushed.

Katherine paused, then said, "Not particularly worried, although he was distracted. He was distracted a lot these last few months. I was pushing him to get back into photography. That's where he was happiest."

Declan noticed Charlie staring at a wall covered in a series of framed portraits of a beautiful young woman.

"Are these all by your husband?" Charlie asked. He walked over to examine the photos. "They're all of you, aren't they?"

"From a long, long time ago," Katherine replied, smiling. She joined him.

Charlie looked at her. "They're remarkable. And, you said he gave up photography?"

"For quite a while, but he was very excited about a new series he'd just started working on. Ian had been shooting a young man this time. He showed me the proofs. Very eighties Bowie, if you know what I mean. Probably the best work he's ever done."

Declan interjected. "Does Ian keep business documents here, in the house?"

"He has an office upstairs."

"I'd like to have a look around up there, if that's all right with you."

"I don't think Ian would like that. He doesn't even like me going in there."

"There may be something in the office that could help us find him," Charlie said.

Katherine looked conflicted, then nodded her head and said, "If you think it will help."

Declan shifted in his seat. "Before we do that, I'd like to ask you more about your relationship with…Matthew, is it?"

"Michael."

"Michael," he corrected himself, knowing full well that it was Michael Taylor. He had just wanted to confirm that her story hadn't changed.

"There's not much to say. I've known Michael since he was born. I know that sounds a bit disturbing, but he went away to St Andrew's College boarding school when he was ten and I didn't see him again until he came back when he was twenty."

"That's a bit late to be graduating high school, isn't it?"

"After he finished, he travelled through Europe for a few years. Deirdre and Simon held a party for him after his return. Sort of a make-up party for missing his eighteenth."

"And you hit it off," Declan pressed.

"It's not quite as cheap as it sounds. I wasn't just trying to shag him because he was an attractive, muscular young man. Michael's very mature. He can converse as easily about fine art as he can about sports."

"And how did Ian feel about Michael?"

"He liked him. Quite a bit. One thing they both had in common was a love of hockey. If you got the two of them talking about that, you might as well leave the room."

"Did Ian know about your affair?"

Katherine paused for a moment, and when she spoke, she seemed to be choosing her words carefully. "You should understand, the open relationship—it was Ian's idea. He did it for me. He wanted me to be happy. But Ian and I had rules. We weren't supposed to sleep with anyone in our circle of friends or acquaintances, and we weren't allowed to bring them home."

Declan pressed, "So you broke the rules."

"Yes."

"Did you ever bring Michael home?"

"Never. On a few occasions we met at Deirdre and Simon's house when they were away on vacation. Other times, at a hotel."

"And you never suspected that Ian knew about this relationship?"

"No."

"And you had no inclination that Ian was seeing anyone else?"

"No."

The doorbell chimed.

Katherine opened the door while Declan and Charlie stayed in the other room. Declan could see the entrance through a reflection in a mirror. Outside stood Luke Fraser and Sergeant McKeckran.

"Mrs Mann, may we come in?" Luke asked.

The police entered the hallway.

Declan heard Luke say, "I'm Constable Fraser. We have some bad news. I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but we think we have found your husband's body."

Katherine sank onto a small padded bench beside the door.

"Do you have someone you would like us to call? A friend or relative?" Luke asked. Declan noticed that Luke was doing all of the talking. McKeckran had remained silent until Declan entered the hall from the living room.

"Hunt? What the fuck are you doing here?" McKeckran said.

"Mr Hunt is a friend of mine!" Katherine snapped back.

Declan knelt by Katherine and took her shoulders in his hands. "Katherine. The officers are going to ask you to go with them. They're going to need you to formally identify Ian's body. Isn't that right, officer?" he said, directing the question to Luke.

"He's right, Mrs Mann. Would you like Mr Hunt to come with you?"

"No. I think I'd like to call my friend, Deirdre," she said.

Declan said, "I'm very sorry, Katherine. We'll leave you with the police, but call me if you need anything."

Declan walked back to the living room to retrieve Charlie. Katherine followed him and grabbed his arm. "I need you to find out what happened. I don't trust them," she whispered, looking back at the police. Declan nodded to her and indicated to Charlie that they should leave.

Charlie gave Katherine a brief hug and said, "We'll figure out what happened to your husband. I promise you."