Dan Sharp Mysteries 4-Book Bundle (66 page)

Jags actually laughed. “Is that what you think?”

Dan wanted to slap him, but he resisted. Was there a law against beating celebrities for doing the same stupid things that other people did?

“I may have gone a little too far this time,” Jags said.

“A little too far at pretending to kill yourself?”

“Stop saying that,” Jags growled, waving him off. “Get out of here.”

Dan stood and took a step back.

“And shut the door behind you. I’d like a little privacy. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“All right, but I’m taking this with me.”

Dan brandished the rope as though it were some kind of prize. He went back downstairs and sat on the couch in the main room, wondering what kind of stupidity he’d got himself into this time and how long before he could get out of it. He looked at the rope, the bristling fibres. He laid it lengthwise on the coffee table as if it were an ornament.

After a few minutes, Jags came down. He went over to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“I thought I fired you,” he said.

“No, I fired you.”

“You want some coffee?”

Dan shook his head. “No.”

Jags watched him for a moment then laughed. “You still don’t know, do you?”

Dan gave him a sharp look, but said nothing.

“Auto-erotic asphyxiation,” Jags said at last. “I just need to be careful not to take it too far.”

Dan felt his anger quickly replaced with bewilderment. “You what?”

Jags scowled. “No judgements, please. I’m not interested in hearing from the self-righteously inexperienced.”

Dan said nothing. He felt like an exasperated parent on hearing the latest admission of reckless stupidity from his most inconsiderate child.

“Anyway, thanks for …” Jags shrugged. “For saving me. Or whatever.”

“You’re welcome. Maybe.”

Jags laughed again. “You look pathetic.”

“
I
look pathetic? Really?”

Jags scowled. “Look, if you haven’t tried it, don’t knock it. I’ve used a lot of drugs in my time and I can say without doubt that this is the best high you’ll ever have. Clean, too. Better than coke by a long shot.”

“Weren’t you better off making records? How the hell did you get into this?”

Jags sipped his coffee. “I got into it when life took a dark turn, for want of a better phrase. And I’m known as a phrasemaker, so believe me when I say I have no words to describe what I went through. I spent an entire decade where I started my day with Prozac and ended it with bourbon, in case you missed the gossip rags. I’m mostly down to bourbon and a twisted rope.”

“Well, thank God for small mercies.”

Jags looked at him with amusement. “Aren’t you a lyrics reader?”

Dan stared dumbly at him.

“I thought you said you knew my work.”

“Somewhat.”

“So the album titled
Gasper
. What do you think that’s about?”

“I haven’t a fucking clue.”

“Think about it. First song:
Oxygen Free
. Did you think that was about clean air?”

“Well, yes, frankly.”

“Third song,
Rope
?” Jags began singing in that clear, famous voice of his Dan had heard on the radio so many times: “
So glad to be alive, my friend; just keep me dangling from your end …
”

Dan shook his head. “I never really thought about it.”

“Well, think about it. That’s what guys like me are for. To open your mind and drag you kicking and screaming to places you’ve never been before.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “You fucking, fucking twat.”

“I never claimed to be the boy next door, Danny. Get over yourself.” He shrugged. “Auto-erotic asphyxiation. Breath control play. It’s nothing new. We’re
talking about restricting the flow of oxygen to the brain for sexual arousal, to put it bluntly.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Dan told him.

“The carotid arteries” — Jags indicated either side of his neck — “these babies right here. That’s the mainline of oxygen to your brain. When you cut it off …”
He pressed his fingers tightly against the sides of his throat till his face turned red. “It produces a semi-
hallucinogenic state, but one that’s completely lucid. You know what’s going on, but you’re out of it at the same time. Add an orgasm to that, and you’ve got a pure high. Total cool. Exquisite pleasure. And, might I add, highly addictive in its way.”

“Who the hell would come up with something like that?”

“Hangings,” Jags replied.

Dan turned to him. “What?”

“Think about it. What happens to men when they’re hanged? They get erections. It’s not a myth. It’s like they get off one last time as they’re heading out permanently. I guess someone got the idea that if you could induce that state temporarily, it might be a rush. And it is.” Jags watched him intently. “You should try it sometime.”

Dan shook his head. “Not for me.”

Jags shrugged. “You don’t have an adventurous personality?”

“Not in that sense, I don’t.”

“Of course, it can be dangerous when done alone. But then so can swimming. Deaths are not uncommon. At least, if you don’t know what you’re doing. Better to share the fun.” He looked around. “As long as you can trust the other person, of course. They say Michael Hutchence was one.”

Dan looked blankly at him.

“The singer from INXS?”

Dan shrugged. “I thought he was a suicide.”

“The verdict’s still out on that one. I think they made him a suicide to clean him up a bit. Funny when suicide’s a better alternative to dying from your sexual highs.”

“Right.”

“One of the most famous cases was from Japan in the 1930s. Another of my songs:
Sada
.” He hummed a tune Dan recognized. “Sada Abe was the lover of a man named Kichizo …”

“That song’s true?”

“Oh, yeah. She worked for Kichizo in his eel restaurant. Kichizo wasn’t attracted to his wife, but Sada turned his crank. The story goes that the first time he jumped her in the kitchen, she stabbed him with a cutting knife. Apparently he enjoyed it. So did she. Eventually they went on to mutual strangulation sessions that could go on for hours. That was the
little death
I wrote about in the chorus.”

He hummed another phrase, his voice as hypnotic as a snake charmer’s.

“Eventually, Sada strangled Kichizo while he was unconscious from sleeping pills. She put her scarf around his neck and tightened it till he died. She testified later in court that he asked her to do it.”

“But no one believed her.”

“Not really. You see, after he died she cut off his penis and testicles and carried them around in her purse.”

“Stop, you’re making me sick.”

Jags stared like a wolf eyeing a rabbit. “There’s a curious photo of her just after her arrest. She’s smiling. But not only that, so are the officers who arrested her. It’s like they’re all sharing this very private joke together.”

Dan put up a hand. “Spare me. If you want my opinion …”

“I don’t.”

“Nevertheless, you should know that what you’re doing …”

“… is illegal?”

Dan made a face. “Just shut up and listen for once.”

Jags made an exasperated sound.

“My teenage son listens better than you do.”

“Glad to hear it. What was the sermon you were about to deliver?”

Dan held up a menacing finger. “No sermon. I was simply going to say that if you wanted an easier, less dangerous version of this, try poppers.”

“What?”

“Amyl nitrate. It’s the gay man’s version of auto-asphyxiation. Cheaper, non-life threatening, but I’d bet my right ball it works just as well.”

Jags appeared to be considering this. “Any side effects?”

“Yeah, it rots your brain cells with continued use —
or so I’m told — but that’s still better than dying and letting your loved ones find you like that.”

“There’d be no one to find me.”

“Is that self-pity?”

“No.” Jags drew the string tighter on his dressing gown and threw Dan a sharp look. “Anyway, what the fuck are you doing here? I thought I fired you.”

“Whatever. Anyway, I thought I’d give you one more chance to redeem yourself. The offer’s on the table for this moment only. If you want me to work with you — not
for
you, but
with
you — if you want me to help save your degenerate carcass then now’s the time to say so.” He stopped and looked at Jags. “Besides, it wouldn’t sit well with my conscience if you ended up dead because I refused to help out.”

Jags smiled and made a small bow. “Welcome back, brother. I accept your offer. The book launch is this Saturday at seven.”

Dan nodded. “I’ll be there.”

Jags slipped an envelope out of his pocket. He proffered it to Dan. “Here, take this.”

Dan looked at it.

“It’s the photograph of the ear.”

Dan held out his hand and accepted the envelope. “Why?”

“In case anything happens to me, I want you to have it.” Jags looked pleased with himself. “With any luck it’ll remind you that you don’t want another dead client on your hands.”

Sixteen

Crime Busters

The city skyline approached as the ferry pushed its way homeward. Dan stood alone near the back of the boat while the other passengers huddled at the bow and pointed out landmarks made less familiar by perspective and distance. He pulled out his cellphone and dialled. Germ picked up on the first ring.

“Dan my man.”

“Hi, Germ. Glad you’re answering.”

“Truth to tell, you’re getting to be a habit with me. Thought my life was interesting till I met you. Kicks, you know?”

Dan laughed.
Kicks
. Right. Smoking dope seemed so passé at that moment. “As long as they’re the healthy kind, I guess.”

Now it was Germ’s turn to laugh. “What can I do for you today?”

“How would you like to help one of your all-time heroes?”

Curiosity crept into his voice. “Who’s that?”

“You tell me.”

A snort. “Huh?”

“Who did you say was one of your all-time heroes?”

“Jags Rohmer?”

“You got it, baby.”

“What’s he got to do with the price of milk?”

“He’s now my client.”

“No way!”

“Way, dude.”

There was a palpable silence.

“Okay. So what can I possibly do for a guy like Jags Rohmer? He need artwork for a new CD or something? That would be way cool.”

“Not exactly.”

“So spill.”

“Okay,” Dan said slowly. “But everything I tell you here is off the record, probably for all time. You good with that?”

“Sure. I trust you, man.”

“All right. That issue I brought up recently …”

“The missing kid who garrots his victims?”

Dan looked over as a sailboat breezed past with three blonde women lounging in the sun. Dan disliked being on the water. Why be stuck on a boat when you could be on solid land? He hated the torpor, hated the confinement.
You can keep the water. Give me a mountain and I’ll climb it any day
, he thought. Same with tanning. What was wrong with being your natural colour, whatever it was?

“That’s the one.”

“Waaaaaaait a minute. Are you telling me that Jags has something to do with the shit we talked about the other day?”

“Germ, I am not at liberty to say much. All I will tell you is that Jags Rohmer is my client and any information you give me would be going to help him out of a tight spot.”

“I’d have to think about it. What’s he need the help for?”

“He’s being threatened. I can’t go into it in any more detail than that.”

“No shit!”

“Shit. Are you in?”

A heavy exhalation. “Okay. I’m in. I’d do anything to help that guy.”

“Cool. We’ll talk about fees and what I need from you when I have a chance to assess the situation a little better.”

“Sure. Just one thing …”

“Yes?”

“Gonna need an autograph from the dude. Just to be sure this is on the level.”

Dan smiled. “I’m sure that can be arranged. In the meantime, I’ve got some artwork to show you. I can be there in half an hour.”

“Come on over.”

Dan hung up. The ferry was just pulling into the dock. His car was five minutes away.

The curly head of hair was bent down over the photo. Dan waited. Germ said nothing for a while then looked up with a grim expression.

“Why would someone send him this? Who would cut off a guy’s ear? I mean, van Gogh cut off an ear, but it was
his
ear, you know?” He thought this over. “Jags Rohmer can’t be a child molester. I mean, I’ve heard some weird things, but that one’s hard for me to believe.”

“If you help me find Gaetan Bélanger, we’ll know for sure.”

“Ah, I had a feeling you were working your way around to that.”

Germ sat back with his arms splayed over the back of the couch. His mouth was making little twitching movements. “If I help you find this kid, you’ve got to guarantee me that he won’t be hurt.”

Dan said nothing.

“I don’t want this shit on my karma, dude. Guy gets hurt and it’ll be my fault for leading you to him. Well?”

Dan shrugged. “I won’t be the one arresting him, Germ. I can’t say anything for sure.”

Germ started to protest, but Dan cut him off.

“Let’s just say this is a very high-profile case and the police are not going to risk a public assassination when they catch him. I can guarantee that much.”

Germ smirked. “Ever hear of Lee Harvey Oswald?”

“That was the U.S. In fact, it was Texas, which is a whole different universe.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Germ looked away. He seemed to be mulling this over.

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” he said after a while. He shook his head again. “The fuck could Jags Rohmer have to do with this shit?”

“I honestly have no idea, but he swore to me he never molested any children. I believe him, for what it’s worth …”

“Yeah, but he’s a rock star, right?”

“Exactly. Who knows what he got up to with some groupie way back when he was barely in his twenties. He could have diddled some fifteen-year-old without knowing her real age. That’s likely, of course. But I don’t think it counts as child molestation. Strictly speaking it would be statutory rape, which is illegal, but I think you and I are on the same side of the fence on that one. A teenager’s right to do with her body what she pleases, etc.”