The God Game. Jeffrey Round

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СКАЧАТЬ did, but he didn’t make it. Now he’s special assistant to the educational reforms minister. He’s gay and his husband has disappeared. Gambling debts, from the sounds of it. But he wants it kept out of the media. Apparently the legislature has had its share of scandal lately. An opposition critic committed suicide at Christmas.”

      Nick’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, I remember. He hung himself in the ravine.”

      “Not quite. You’re hung. He was hanged. There’s a difference.”

      Nick tried to suppress his smile. “Okay, Mr. Pedant. But it’s a given — where there are politics, there are scandals.” He paused. “Any connection between the suicide and the missing husband?”

      “Nothing I can see. Tony Moran isn’t in politics, just married to it. The suicide was cooking some books, by the sounds of it.”

      Nick shrugged. “It’s always the Conservatives who get greedy when they’re in power. The Liberals are egotists who make a mess of things because they think they know better, and the New Democrats are a bunch of flakey do-gooders.”

      Dan laughed. “Well, that pretty much covers the board. Between the crooks and the flakey do-gooders, I guess there’s no hope for the rest of us.”

      “Don’t underestimate the Green Party. The future is green, I always say.”

      Dan shook his head. “You’re a very funny policeman, Officer Trposki.”

      “The way I figure it, as long as I can make you laugh you’ll stick around for the wedding. After that, it’ll be too late to change your mind.” Nick glanced toward the kitchen. “Supper’s ready. Let’s eat.”

      They had just sat down when the hall phone rang. Dan stood to answer it.

      Nick gave him a warning look. “Don’t be long.”

      “I promise.” Dan picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

      There was a brief silence, then a man’s voice said, “Is this Dan Sharp?”

      “Yes.”

      “Mr. Sharp, I understand you’re working for Peter Hansen to find his husband, Tony.”

      Dan’s mind went on the alert. “Who’s calling?”

      The man’s name meant nothing to him. The caller continued. “Peter Hansen gave me your number. He said I could talk to you about the case. Do you mind answering a few questions?”

      “I do mind. If you want to know anything then ask Peter Hansen.”

      He hung up, fuming. First Hansen had showed up unannounced at his office, tossing money around while demanding discretion, and now he felt free to give out Dan’s private number to someone Dan had never heard of. Peter Hansen had all the makings of a nightmare client.

      Three

      Humpty Dumpty

      Dinner over, Dan cleared the plates and brought them to the kitchen. To the consternation of nearly everyone he knew, he did not own an automatic dishwasher. And because he had no dishwasher, the person who ended up washing dishes was usually him. That was the accepted arrangement when he and Nick ate together: chef gets to relax after the meal. Donny and numerous other well-meaning friends had tried over the years to convince him that modern technology had its merits, but Dan merely scoffed.

      “For one thing,” he’d say, “I don’t trust a machine to do as good a job as I can. For another, I like washing dishes. It relaxes me to submerge my hands in the soapy water and get scrubbing. It’s my happy space.”

      These statements usually elicited a few gasps, especially among a sophisticated downtown crowd. Sometimes there were murmurings of sympathetic understanding, but usually not.

      “You’re more than welcome to it,” Nick told him, after offering to buy a dishwasher and being turned down flat.

      More often than not, Nick sat at the table and nursed a coffee while Dan washed up, rather than rushing off to read or lounge in front of the television. Completely comfortable in each other’s presence, they were seldom apart during their off hours. Anyone seeing them might suspect there was an invisible force constantly pulling them together.

      Dan finished the dishes, then followed Nick into the living room. He plunked himself down on the sofa and grabbed the TV remote.

      “News?” he asked.

      Nick grumped. “Why? It’s always bad. I get enough of that at work. In fact, I can tell you the news without even turning on the TV: somewhere there will be wars, somewhere else a natural disaster, while closer to home we’ll have a suspicious fire and a car accident that tied up rush-hour traffic.”

      “You forgot politics,” Dan added.

      “Yes, I did. On purpose.”

      “You are one of the few people I can truly say is more curmudgeonly than me.”

      “Glad to hear it.”

      Dan aimed the remote. “Let’s brave it anyway.”

      They sat through the commercials with the sound muted until the news began. As Nick predicted, there was coverage of fighting in Africa and the Middle East, with an earnest detailing of the collapse of last-minute peace talks. The World Health Organization reported an outbreak of Ebola in West Africa. Disaster was the through-line, distressing despite its seeming remoteness. Only the local news featured a bright spot, with mention of a donation to SickKids hospital.

      Dan was about to turn it off when a shot of Peter Hansen and Tony Moran appeared onscreen as the anchor’s disembodied voice stated that the husband of the special assistant to the educational reforms minister had been declared missing. A former candidate for the legislature, Hansen had hired a private investigator. Dan felt a jolt when he heard his name cited. The anchor closed by saying that both Peter and Dan had declined to comment on the case.

      Nick’s hand stole over and gripped Dan’s thigh.

      “Did you know about this?”

      “No,” Dan said grimly. “So much for my client’s request for discretion.”

      Just then his cellphone rang.

      Dan looked at Nick. “What are the chances?”

      He picked up and heard Peter Hansen’s gruff tone.

      “Why did I just hear my name and yours on the evening news?” Hansen demanded. “What is this? Some kind of publicity grab? I told you I didn’t want this getting out.”

      “Wait a minute. I didn’t contact the press,” Dan said. “Someone called me to ask about the case. He said you gave him my number. I didn’t tell him anything.”

      “Who was it?”

      Dan repeated the name he’d been given.

      “Never heard of him,” Hansen growled. “Those fucking barracudas!”

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