If It Made Sense, It Wouldn't Be a Mystery, Would It?

Chapter 23

POV: JUSTIN

"Rev it!"

Jesus, Lindsay, I think to myself. "How do I rev it and not shoot forward like a bullet?"

"The clutch is pushed in, right, stupid?" Brian's ever-helpful advice comes from the back. Ass.

But… he's right. I yank up the handbrake, keeping the clutch engaged, and put my foot to the gas pedal, revving the engine hard. The woman at the stoplight next to me looks over as though I'm challenging her to a drag race. I just smile as sweetly as I can manage and turn my attention to the front. Brian's watching me from the back and I hear him guffaw.

The light finally changes and we turn onto Church.

"That's it, right there!" Linds says, pointing to a Victorian-looking house. "That's where Mel works."

I pull up and park, gratefully killing the engine before having to rev it again.

"Alright, so, what's the plan, Stan?" Brian says, then pauses. "Heh." He says suddenly and starts in on the Simon and Garfunkel song… "Just slip out the back, Jack; Make a new plan, Stan; You don't need to be coy, Roy; Just get yourself free…" Despite how hokey it is, I notice both Lindsay and I have joined him, "Hop on the bus, Gus," Gus is squealing at that, "You don't need to discuss muuuuuuch; Just drop off the key, Lee, and get yourself free!"

We all stop and look at each other and start to laugh. Gus is beside himself in the back with his Dad. Brian then straightens up, watching Gus.

"Okay, that's enough of that fucking Hee Haw moment." He says suddenly- although he is still laughing slightly. And he started it. I don't remember the meds having this affect on me. But, Gus is laughing so hard he's having a hard time finding a moment to breathe. A brief expression of concern clouds Brian's face until the boy inhales a huge gulp of air.

"Gus! Bus, Gus! Back, Jack!" He shrieks.

Brian laughs a little. "Okay," he says, turning his attention to Lindsay. "What is the plan, Stan?"

"Well, I can take the bus home- "We all snort at that, although she's being serious. "But with Gus-"

"Hop on tha buss, GUSS!" Gus squeals.

"No, why don't we swing back in about…" Brian glances at me. I shrug. "How about in about an hour? Or a little more? Justin has to swing by the diner to pick up a paycheck."

I what? "No I don't," I protest. "I just got my paycheck, remember?"

"Well, then," Brian says, poking his tongue in his cheek, "we have to go because I want you to buy me lunch…. That okay with you?"

I'm puzzled, and I know Brian would never ask me to buy him anything (it's both a pet peeve and a thing I have easily gotten used to over the years).

But I just nod.

"Okay, then. An hour or a little more- we'll see you. You want to have dinner over tonight?" Linds asks.

Surprisingly, Brian says a simple "yes," while looking at Gus, whose face is flushed with having laughed his little ass off after our sing-song.

Cool.

"I need all the free meals I can get." Brian adds, pure Kinney style. "We haven't eaten since that Godforsaken 'Victory Brunch'. That was, what, Justin? 4 days ago? Or so?"

I shrug. "Will it be just us, or…?"

"You two, us three, and I'll ask Deb and Vic and Rodney and Emmett, but from what you told me, Michael and Ben and Hunter are… unavailable."

"Yeah. They're in Mamaroneck. The crap capital of the world. Land of the Big Q. Although, I had an Aunt who lived there. Died when I was 16. She was an ornery bitch, but she and I had some good times. She loved to fish. Always told me when I caught one that I must've been holding my mouth right." Brian muses.

This is uncharacteristic and, quite frankly, freaking me out. A little.

"I've been holding my mouth right in the backrooms ever since." He adds, quickly. Grinning.

Uh huh.

Lindsay catches my eye and pushes the door open, then yanks open the rear door. "C'mon Gus, honey." She says, un-strapping him from his car seat. "Brian, you want to go up front?" She asks as she lifts a now-pouting Gus from his seat. "Daddeee!" He protests.

Brian just waves her off. "Too much effort." He says simply. She nods and slams the door. "God, it sucks being a retard." I hear him whisper. I look around.

"You aren't a fucking retard. More like a drama queen."

He regards me critically. "So, did you bring all that shit? The letters and photos?"

"Yeah. I did."

"Do you know where we're going?"

Of course I know. And I know he knows that I know.

"Yeah."

"Then: onward, McDuff!" His voice sounds tired. I start the car and think, 'Brian's sure in a weird mood.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

POV: BRIAN

I'm in a weird mood. Fuck if I know what the hell's going on in my head. Justin's little revelations this morning, Gus being so silly, Linds…

Eh, fuck it. Must be all the meds. Maybe I should get Anita to get me some of this shit from now on- after the prescription runs out, I mean.

Justin drives towards Gary's.

"What's the address again?" He asks, acting all innocent.

Not skipping a beat, "1345 E. King Street. Number 5."

"Oh. Right." He says.

"Justin, you just made a wrong turn." I say, annoyed.

The engine suddenly revs. "Oh, sorry."

Uh huh.

He flips a U turn and we're finally there. "This it?" He asks.

"Uh huh." I wait for him to get out and open my door. I grab my crutches. "Ready?"

"Um. Yeah." He says, helping me up. When I'm standing I look down at him. Jesus, he's short.

And beautiful.

"Justin - really do not worry about seeing Ian- er, Ethan." I say.

He looks down. "Right."

"What the fuck is going on?" What, is he still seeing this kid? It's not like they're in the same fucking apartment. Or building, for that matter. That I know of.

"Nothing." He says, hesitantly.

I just stand there looking at him, watching the clouds from our breaths intermingle. It's not 'nothing'. That much, I know.

He looks up at me finally. "It's just that - well, that's Ethan's address."

My knees buckle slightly. Thank God for these crutches. "It's what?"

"You heard me."

I just gawk at him a moment. "Well, whatever the fuck. Let's go. It's fucking cold." I use my hip to slam the door and warble towards the front door.

Great, just great.

Ethan and Gary. What is with these people? Should 'It's a Small World After All' be about glorious gay Pittsburgh?

And from the looks of it, there are going to be several flights of stairs to negotiate.

"Brian?" I hear from behind me.

"What?" I bark back.

"I… well, I'm sorry I didn't say that earlier."

"Uh huh." I don't want to deal with this right now. "Whatever."

We get into the foyer. Yep. Stairs. Shitloads of 'em. "Take this." I hand Justin one of my crutches and start to use the other to help myself up, balancing myself with the banister.

"Brian, are you sure? I could just go up there and knock on the door."

Yeah, right.

"No, I'll be fine. Just slow."

And yes, slow I am. I go up, one step at a time. Justin follows behind me patiently. After what may literally have been 20 minutes, we're in front of number 5.

"Well, Sunshine, here we are! Your OTHER home away from home!"

Yeah, it's shitty. But deserved. He grimaces.

"Fuck you, Brian."

Uh huh. Well, here goes. Can hardly wait to see that fucking carpet sample on Ian's chin again. I knock on the door using my casted elbow.

Good Lord. It truly stinks in here.

"God, what stinks?" I mutter. It smells like a dirty jock strap. Justin just shifts his weight from one leg to the other and coughs lightly. He's not a happy camper.

There's no answer from inside the apartment.

"Did you two have a secret knock you could try?" I ask.

"Brian, Jesus. You don't 'do jealous', remember?"

That hits home. "I'm not jealous." I say. Hopefully, not too quickly. "I'm just hoping we can avoid having to go down all these godforsaken steps before meeting up with Fairy Gary." I glance at the stairs, grimacing. "And, well…" Eh. Just say it. "Quite possibly, Ethan." I add.

Justin just rolls his eyes and sighs. "No. No secret knock. Just try again." I rap on the door again. This time, I hear movement inside.

"Fuck. Fuck!" A voice says. "Wolfram! Move your ass!" I notice Justin slipping behind me just before the door opens. Good grief.

"Fuck…?" Ethan says as he registers it's me.

"No," I correct. "I'm Brian."

"Oh, fuck! Er, Brian, I mean." He backs up like I'm going to slug him. Jesus. "Brian, really- Justin isn't here - we aren't…we aren't together anymore- please, really!" I almost feel sorry for the guy- he looks like he'd eagerly hand over a lung and his fucking kidneys to get rid of me right now.

But, instead, I ignore his little rant. "Hello, Ian." I say, pleasantly. "Actually, I'm not here to find Justin." I shrug over slightly to reveal that Justin is right behind me. "I'm here to find Gary Montgomery. He lives here, right?"

The moment that follows is priceless- if you're a freak like me, that is. Justin looks like he wants to simply throw himself down the stairs rather than confront Ian. Ethan. Whatever. And Ethan looks like he'd prefer to spontaneously combust rather than be here at the moment. The latter, I'd like to see.

"He… he… Gary?" Ethan manages.

"Uh huh." This kid is an idiot, I decide. "Yes. Gary. Lives. Here." I'm beginning to lose my patience. I hear a clatter behind Ethan and look beyond him into the disgusting clutter of his… apartment. God, how did Justin ever live in this dump? "Gary?" I say. I push Ethan aside to walk into the room; Ethan cowers as I pass. One thing going for Ethan and Justin: they're both about the same height. In Ethan's case, that makes me pretty intimidating, I would imagine. I choose to think so. "Gair?" I repeat. "Hey, Gary?" Justin hovers around the doorway. Ethan is leaning against the kitchen sink. Or if that's what it is, underneath that huge pile of dirty dishes.

A man comes out of the bathroom in his boxers, tripping over the cat. "Fuck! Who the fuck are you?" He says, recovering and surveying the scene.

Nice to meet you, too, Gair.

"I'm Brian. Brian Kinney. This is Justin Taylor," I wave for Justin to come all the way inside. "Justin is Ethan's boyfriend."

"EX-boyfriend, Brian." Justin hisses.

"EX-boyfriend, then." I stand corrected.

Gary just stares at me. He's about 45, average height, has a paunch, too much body hair but hardly any on his head, and, well, he turns my stomach. He looks a lot like my old man at around that age, actually. God, I'm definitely killing myself at 39.

I consider putting out my hand but his expression makes me think he won't take it. So I don't.

He's still gawking at me. 'Does the man speak?' I begin to wonder. Just before: "Kinney. Kinney." He seems to be trying to place my name. Uh oh. "Where do I know you from? I've heard that name before." Then he snaps his fingers. "You're the one who worked on the Stockwell campaign, aren't you! His token gay staff member! You were his goddamned campaign manager!"

Token my ass. I mean, I worked fucking hard for that damnable campaign. I was the one who fucking made it so that the guy almost won. And he would have won, if I hadn't developed something Justin calls "my conscience" and sacrificed everything for what I believed in- as Justin so quaintly put it. Really, I think it was the fucking hassle trying to get my dick sucked outside of the loft. Closing the backroom to me is analogous to pissing in the holy water to my mother. Although, I didn't really appreciate his homophobic views. 'Let's just say we're no longer batting for the same team,' my fucking ass.

But I don't say any of that. "Well, I wasn't exactly token, but yes, I did work for Stockwell."

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that? Working for that homophobic prick!"

Nice.

Justin pipes up, "Fuck you! If you knew what Brian did-"

"Justin." I silence him. I really don't want every fag in Pittsburgh to know I'm the 'Concerned Citizens for the Truth', thank you very much. "I didn't work for him towards the end of the campaign." I tell him.

"Who cares? You're still a fucking homophobic fag. You're just like Ke-" He stops himself.

"Ken Reikert?" I say.

He eyes me, suddenly suspicious. "What do you know about Ken Reikert? And what the fuck are you doing here, anyway?"

"We were hoping you could help us by telling us a few things. And as far as Reikert: well, I know he used to be Stockwell's partner on the force. And I know he resigned when Stockwell's campaign began, so he wouldn't tarnish Jimbo's pristine image. I know he was involved with Jason Kemp. And I know he supposedly killed himself after it looked as though he was going to be arrested and tried for killing Kemp." I pause and gauge Gary's reaction. He looks somewhat stunned. "I also know he was your…" Ugh. "…Your boyfriend." There. Said it. "And, on a related note, I know that your son was best friends with Kemp."

There's a long silence. Gary has turned an odd shade of green and his eyes have left mine, shifting over to Ethan's. The only sound is Ethan's damned cat who has come up to me and has started rubbing against my leg and purring. Gawd.

I glance at Ethan, who looks positively confused. And, it's Ethan who breaks the silence. "I don't know any Kemp." He says simply.

Huh? It takes me a second to register what he's saying. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Justin furrows his brow, puzzled. It clicks into place: "Wait a second. Gary is your father?" This is too weird, I swear. 'It's a Fucking Minuscule World' should be the song for glorious gay Pittsburgh. Fuck 'Small'.

"Yes, he's my fucking father." Ethan sneers. Fucking chin-rat. "What's it to you?"

Now, okay. It's understandable that Ethan doesn't like me much. And it's understandable that since he's across the room, he feels he can be threatening. But goddammit if I don't want to go right over to him and throw him bodily through the grimy window behind him. Without opening it first. But instead, I just ball my fists. Christ, I'm being so good today, I'm gonna have to be extra shitty later, I swear it.

"Well, Ian, isn't that swell. You may then want to know that you have a brother named Jimmy. Who, incidentally, is fighting for his life in some tiny backwater hospital in Mamaroneck, New York. Put into a coma by someone who forced us off the fucking road. And your father here probably either did it, or knows who did." I snarl. Before thinking. And now I'm kinda wishing I hadn't said it, but there it is.

And yes. Predictably, both Gary and Ethan stare at me, dumbfounded. "A brother?" Ethan finally says, incredulously. "Whoa." He actually looks somewhat pleased with the idea, albeit still stunned.

"Seems ol'Gair likes the ladies as much as the men. Two sons (we know of, at least) who don't even know each other." Gawd, Kinney. You seem to be suffering from diarrhea of the mouth at the moment. And I realize that getting Gary to help us out now is rather unlikely. Justin just shifts a little, uncomfortable. I suppose part of the Kinney charm is making other people embarrassed. And I have loads of Kinney charm, lemme tell ya.

"Shut the fuck up, you fucking piece of shit!" Gary hisses at me, apparently sizing me up as to whether he could take me or not. Not. Wounded or no.

"Look, Mr. Montgomery. We're sorry- we didn't know Ethan is… is your son. But it's true. Hu- er, Jimmy is in a coma. And we were run off the road the other day. I can tell you the details if you want to go visit him." Justin. Mr. Damage Control. I roll my eyes. Although, I am rather proud of him.

Gary seems to relax a little. "Is he going to be alright?" He asks, worried. I notice Ethan is still processing this 'brother' information because his mouth is open and he's staring at Gary in complete disbelief. Gary seems to have forgotten all about him in his concern over Hunter.

"He's not on any life support, but he is still in a coma." Justin says, gently. "And you may be able to help us with why he ended up there at all- I mean, we have…" Justin is suddenly at a loss for words. Yeah. We have your and honey-pie's love letters and have been reading all your private sappy sentiments for days now. How does one put that? Hm.

Why, bluntly, of course: "Gary, we have letters of yours and Reikert's. To each other, I mean. And we were hoping you could maybe shed some light on a little mystery we seem to be in charge of solving for fuck knows what reason."

Gary turns his attention to me. "Letters? Ken's and my letters? Where the fuck did you get those!?" He doesn't like me, I'm thinkin'. Fuck it. He can join Ted and the other million and a half with the same opinion.

"The cop who found him in his garage picked them up. And he seems to think that Reikert didn't kill Kemp. Or commit suicide for that matter. And we were hoping you might know something about all of this that we don't."

He gazes at me slack-jawed for quite awhile. Then finally: "That asshole! That asshole! That fucking asshole you almost got elected!" He growls at me angrily. His fists are so tightly balled up his knuckles are white.

"Mr. Montgomery, please- if you know anything, any proof or whatever- please tell us. Hun- um Jimmy seems terrified of the cops but he won't tell us why. What…?" Justin leaves the question dangling.

He lets out a breath. "It will help find whoever hurt Jimmy?"

Justin nods. "Hopefully."

A few moments pass. Gary seems to be considering. I actually believe now he wasn't the one in the other car. Then: "That stupid Kemp kid. It's all his fucking fault. All of it." He says, resentfully. He looks absently over at a sketch on the wall of a fucking fiddler. Glad to see it's not Justin's style. "He was fucking around with Ken and after awhile he found out that Ken'd been Stockwell's partner on the force for years. Started blackmailing Stockwell about it- you know, threatening to go to the press and reveal that he, an under-aged male prostitute, was fucking Mr. Moral of Pittsburgh's years-long partner. He was so stupid, that kid. I wish Jimmy'd never met him." He shakes his head slightly. He doesn't even seem to be aware that we're here anymore. We stay quiet, listening. "But that cunt, Rita- my ex wife- started to pimp Jimmy out after I left. Fucking bitch. I never would have thought she could stoop that low. He ran away and ended up in Pittsburgh, in this part of town called the Vaseline towers. It's where young gay runaways go- and often, die." He shudders at that. "He lived on the streets for fuck knows how long. And it was there- at those towers- that he met Kemp. And it was there, ironically, where Kenny met Kemp, too. Anyway." He suddenly looks up, remembering we're here. "I- we believed Stockwell had something to do with Kemp's death, although Ken was reluctant to believe it. He begged me not to make anything of it. Fucking loyal as a dog to that shit of a man. I guess Stockwell had saved Ken's life at one time. Anyhow, I didn't do anything about it, to keep Ken happy. Although honestly, there wasn't any proof that wasn't merely consequential, anyway." He pauses a moment. "Oh. And Ken's death." He frowns slightly. "… I don't have a clue about that. Although…" He pauses thoughtfully. "He did call me shortly before he died. The call was a really short one - I was on my cell in the car and in the middle of the conversation I hit a dead spot, and he got cut off. Then I was at work, so I didn't call him back." He pauses again, thinking. "Oh, yeah! He was talking about these two guys trying to nail him for Kemp's murder."

Fuck me! Justin and I glance at each other- God, I hope he doesn't make the connection, I think to myself. And it's obvious Justin is thinking the same thing.

"He said he'd written to me about it but found he'd left the letter on his dresser for too long and figured he'd just call after I got back from my trip." He looks at us. "Huh." He says. "Huh!" Shit shit shit. "Weird. He could've been describing you two, you know that? Tall brunet, beautiful, something of an asshole." Well, at least I got tall and beautiful. "Yeah, and a short blond. Pretty face. Bad dresser."

Omigod! I bite the inside of my mouth so hard I taste blood trying not to laugh. I see Justin frown briefly before he regains his game face. "Oh, no- no!- I'm sorry Justin-" ol'Gair stammers. Obviously he doesn't care for Justin's attire any more than Ken did. I have no comment. "No, I'm not- you dress-"

"Forget it." Justin says, waving it off stoically.

"Sorry. Really. But wow, really, he could have been describing you two. Oh, and sorry about the asshole thing," he says to me as an afterthought. I don't respond because if I open my mouth, I'm going to burst out laughing and that really wouldn't be fitting at the moment, would it? Besides, it's quite obvious he doesn't really mean it- he thinks I AM an asshole. But I don't care. I just keep biting my cheek. Justin's gonna be in a pissy mood for days over that crack. Gary just shrugs lightly and "'Huh's" again a couple of times over the 'coincidence', but finally he seems to dismiss it. Probably seems too coincidental to him. I'm starting to believe that in miniscule Pittsburgh, anything can happen. Luckily for us, he doesn't seem to think so.

"Yeah, so anyway, there were these two guys who suspected he'd killed Kemp. Something about finding his semen in the kid's ass. Well, I'm sure his semen was in the fucking kid's ass. As I said, Kemp was his fucking fuck buddy. And I don't know if you two saw that ad that came out right before the election- damned clever one, but it really fucked Ken over. Implicated that he'd killed Kemp, and then Stockwell covered it up because Ken was a cop. And his former partner. The latter two parts are true. But I don't believe Ken killed the boy. In fact, I'd swear he didn't. I hated the fact that he was seeing this kid on the side. My fucking son's best friend." He frowns. "But I was traveling a lot at the time, so it was understandable, I guess. But after many…" he hesitates and rubs the back of his neck, "…many arguments, he finally let the boy loose." Justin glances at me. 'Arguments' my ass. I think to myself. Bloodbaths more like. "Or so he told me. That was about a week before the kid was found in a dumpster on Liberty Avenue. I guess he was still seeing him, eh? His fucking semen in the kid's hole." He grimaces, then shakes his head, realizing he has an audience.

"Did he say anything else in the call?"

"Hm. There was something else he was talking about before the phone died." I fucking hope so. So far, we've learned squat. Well, except that Ian is Hunter's brother and Gair's son. Suddenly, and of course, inappropriately- and probably because I haven't gotten over the 'bad dresser' crack- I feel the urge to laugh: we have all completely forgotten about Ethan- that Ethan is even in the fucking room, and he's still standing by the goddamned dirty dishes with the same stunned gape on his face. I quickly cover my mouth with my palm but not before I let out a small snort. Justin digs a finger into my side to shut me up, but that only tickles and I quickly push it away before I truly burst out laughing. "Stop it!" He hisses under his breath. Then he follows my gaze and sees Ethan. Suddenly he covers his mouth too.

Gawd. We're like a couple of schoolgirls with the giggles.

Throughout all this, thankfully, Gary seems to be so lost in thought trying to remember that he doesn't notice. And Ethan certainly doesn't. He's in another world.

"…There was something about a woman- Tina or Dina or Lena or something. I didn't catch the name."

That grabs my attention and I get serious quick. While Gair here might like women and men, I never got the impression that Kenny had a taste for anything but cock. So, why he'd be talking about a woman makes me curious. Justin notices my reaction and his smiles quickly vanish. A loss, actually, I think absently to myself.

"What about her?" I say.

"That's when he got cut off. He just said something about this woman and to watch my ass. For who, I had no idea, obviously. But Ken was always paranoid. I had learned that early on- always telling me to watch my ass for someone or another. He had a little bit of a delusional complex."

"Was it 'Gina'?" I ask. Gina Stockwell. Jim's wife. I met her a small handful of times while working with the guy. I'm kind of surprised I remember her at all. After Stockwell found out 'my orientation', though, I met her once or twice after he'd hired me back and she had acted as if I had the plague or something. Wouldn't even look me in the eye. Or shake my hand. She seemed completely disgusted with me. Kind of a nut job, really. And not in a positive, life affirming sort of way. I suddenly want to get out of here.

Gary's looking at me squinting slightly, as if trying to remember. "Could have been." He says uncertainly.

"Well, Gair, thanks for your time. If anything else occurs to you, here's my number." I hand him one of my old cards. "The written number is the one to use. I don't work there anymore." I pull my crutches against my sides, but decide again against putting out my hand. "Oh, and Jimmy is at Mamaroneck Municipal Hospital. You should visit." Or not. How you could have left him to the wolves again, and then come to live with your other fiddling son is beyond me. "My best friend and his lover took him in after they found him back on the streets." I see my veiled accusation hits home as he averts his eyes. "Anyway, they're up there, too." I turn slightly and see Ethan has finally snapped out of it. "Toodles, Ian." I smile sweetly.

Justin rolls his eyes but he shakes Gary's hand and gives a small wave Ethan's way. We shuffle to the door and we're out.

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