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  A sister came forward next and addressed the crowd. She was followed by the dead man’s husband, Nathan, who spoke about their relationship of ten years.

  “If there is one thing I could wish for you right now, Randy, it is not that we will find the person or persons responsible for this, for we will. But rather, I wish that you are at peace despite the terrible fate you have endured.”

  The minister returned, inviting people to queue on either side of the transept and share their thoughts. Friends, colleagues, and patients stepped up, some openly expressing their grief, others masking it with humour and reminiscences. All told the same story: they felt a considerable loss for the man they were honouring that day.

  After the last person had spoken, the minister nodded to the choir. Voices rose gently, hovering in the air. The mourners waited until the final notes faded, as though they, too were waiting for a cue. Then slowly they rose and began to exit.

  In the front row, private investigator Dan Sharp sat with his best friend Donny, Donny’s partner Prabin, and their longtime friend Domingo. Prabin slumped forward, face hidden in his hands. His shoulders shook.

  “I should have been there for him.”

  Donny reached over to his boyfriend’s arm. “You would have helped him if you’d been there.”

  The doors of the church opened onto a grey afternoon. A crowd of reporters waited at the foot of the stairs as the crowd spilled into the street. Randy’s husband glanced worriedly at the TV cameras, then stepped forward. No, the police had no further leads, he told them. They were looking on it as a random attack, not as one motivated by hatred or homophobia. On the face of things, it seemed to have been a simple robbery gone wrong. As hard as it was to believe, his partner’s death was likely the regrettable consequence of a botched holdup.

  Dan watched from a distance then turned to Prabin. “Where did they find him?”

  “Behind a rooming house on George Street. The police think he was killed nearby and dragged there to hide his body.”

  “I know the area. It gets pretty seedy at night.”

  “It’s outside the ghetto, but it doesn’t look as though he was attacked because he was gay.”

  “I heard the attack was savage. It was angry.”

  “Very savage. He was stabbed repeatedly.”

  Dan took this in. “It could have been personal then. Especially with a knife. People think guns are dangerous, but I’d rather take my chances with a shooter whose hands might shake. Knives are far deadlier.”

  Domingo nudged Dan. “I don’t think Prabin needs to hear that just now.”

  “Sorry, just speculating,” he said, turning to face her. “What do you make of it?”

  “I think it will turn out to be two people,” she said softly. “Drugs will fit in the scenario somewhere.”

  Prabin shook his head. “Randy never did drugs.”

  “Then possibly they were robbing him for money for a drug habit,” Dan said. “Drugs are expensive.”

  Prabin glanced at the journalists, who had surrounded Randy’s brother. His expression hardened. “You’d think they could leave the family alone. They’re always looking for the sordid angle. S&M, torture, prostitution. This guy was a cancer researcher. He sang in a church choir. They’d never believe you can be gay and get murdered for no reason.”

  Donny put an arm around Prabin’s shoulders. “Thanks for coming,” he told Dan and Domingo. “Prabin and I are going back to the apartment, if you want to join us.”

  “Do you want us to come?” Domingo asked.

  “Please.” Prabin nodded. “I could use the company.”

  The four friends sat talking in low voices around a coffee table. Soft jazz played in the background, an impromptu requiem for the dead man. Outside the windows, a grey haze obscured the horizon.

  “Randy and I met at Queen’s while we were both undergrads,” Prabin said. “We were a weird match. I was the immigrant and he was the blue-eyed WASP. I was in the business program and he was in neurosciences. The only thing we had in common was the pool. We were both competitive swimmers. Then later we both joined the choir. Randy always loved to sing his heart out.”

  Donny patted his lover’s arm and went out to the balcony. He lit a cigarette and stood looking in at the others.

  “I wanted to go up and speak today, but I couldn’t,” Prabin continued. “I wanted to say that he was my first real lover. But I didn’t want to draw attention away from his family, particularly his husband.”

  “I wouldn’t have been able to say a word,” Domingo said. “I always find it hard to speak at funerals, especially when the death is sudden.”

  Prabin grabbed a tissue and blew his nose. “After graduation, we went in separate directions. I didn’t know we’d both ended up in Toronto till a few months ago when I ran into him at the Y. It was more than ten years since we’d last seen each other, but he just grabbed me in a big hug. His career was well underway and he was very successful. It sounded like his life was perfect. He said he’d even found the ideal husband.” He looked over at Donny and gave a smile. “I didn’t think there was such a thing, but I found out different. Well, almost ideal except for his smoking.”

  “Just remember — it keeps me calm,” Donny called back to him.

  “When did you last see him?” Domingo asked.

  “Just that one time. We exchanged cell numbers and spoke a few times by phone. He kept saying we should get together for coffee, but I put him off.” He shrugged. “You know how it is. You always think there’ll be time next week or the week after. The last time he called was last Wednesday.”

  “The day he died.”

  Prabin nodded and rubbed his forehead. “I put him off again. It’s weird to think that if I’d said yes, and maybe altered his schedule, he might not have been doing whatever he was doing when he was killed.”

  “They said his walk schedule was pretty regular,” Donny reminded him, flicking ash in a potted plant. “He always went out at eight o’ clock in the evening.”

  “Still, it might have changed things,” Prabin answered gloomily.

  Domingo gave him a sad smile. “I like to think that we go when our time is up and we’ve served our purpose here on Earth. It’s the rest of us — the ones who stay — who still have things to learn and accomplish.”

  “I’m not ready to go yet,” Donny said, butting out his cigarette and coming back to the couch. He rested a hand on Prabin’s arm. “I just met this guy. I’m not ready to let go.”

  Domingo shook her head. “I’m not afraid of death. I’d miss Adele, and you guys, too, of course. But not much else.”

  “I’d miss Ked and all of you,” Dan added. “I doubt anyone would miss me outside this group.”

  A storm of protest rose.

  “Randy just proved we’re missed by a lot more people than we might expect,” Domingo pointed out. “We just don’t know it till we’re dead.”

  “That’s the sad part,” Prabin said. “He was a great guy, always wanting the best for everyone. Just what his brother said about him. Why anyone would kill him is beyond me. He was researching a new way of treating cancer. And he was brilliant enough to find it. It seems pointless that such a good life could be snuffed out while there are so many people out there who don’t care whether they live or die.”

  Donny shrugged. “By the time I was thirty-five, I’d already known three gay men who were murdered. Not one of their killers has ever been convicted.”

  “How were they killed?” Domingo asked.

  “One was strangled by his lover when he tried to leave him. The other two were knifed to death. One by a hustler, the other by a drug dealer. They all got off.”

  “And now there’s Randy,” Prabin added.

  Domingo gave him a sympathetic look. “Randy’s killers will be caught and convicted.”

  “I hope so,” he said, turning to look out over the horizon that was now completely wrapped in grey clouds. “I’d do anything to make sure
this doesn’t happen to anyone else ever again.”

  TWO

  Serial

  DOMINGO WAS WATCHING DAN thoughtfully, the mood between them solemn as they rode down side by side in an elevator the size of a small bedroom. The doors opened and they made their way out to the street in silence. The rain had turned to a sloppy, wet snow covering the ground and cars. It declared fall was now permanently out of reach and spring would be a long time coming.

  “Do you think someone is preying on gay men in the community?” Domingo asked at last.

  “I always think someone is preying on gay men in the community. Usually it’s other gay men,” Dan said.

  Domingo slipped a pair of gloves from her coat pocket. “You must have seen the notices of missing men pasted on street lights and mailboxes lately. There’ve been a couple.”

  “I hadn’t noticed, but then I’m not a downtown boy so maybe I just don’t spend enough time walking around the neighbourhood.”

  She gave him a skeptical look. “Well, get your ass down here more often. I keep telling you you’re never going to find a boyfriend if you don’t get out and circulate.”

  “The presumption being that I’m looking for one?”

  “I know you, Dan. You’re not the type to go through life alone.”

  “Sadly, I don’t find the type of men I appeal to have much appeal for me in return. And vice versa, I’m sure.”

  “You want someone sensitive.”

  He smiled. “That’s one word for it.”

  “Adele and I have been putting our heads together to see if we can come up with someone,” she ventured.

  “That dating friends of friends thing never works. Thank you for the thought, though.”

  Domingo waved her hands. “Not just friends. Neighbours and colleagues. We’re throwing a wide net. So even if it all goes bust, you’ll never be embarrassed to find yourself at a cocktail party stuffed to the gills with people you dated once and never wanted to see again.”

  Dan laughed. “Not much chance of that, given my dating history.”

  “I know you don’t like it but I’ve been doing my ‘thing,’ as you call it.”

  Dan stiffened. By her “thing” he knew she meant “other-worldly” skills. While he tolerated her belief in such abilities, he wasn’t entirely comfortable having them turned on him.

  “You’ve been alone for a while. I think it’s time for you to start looking in earnest.”

  “Oh, you do, do you?”

  “Yes, I do.” She was stern. “And both Donny and Prabin agree it’s time for you to circulate again. We thought you could use a helping hand.”

  “Ah, it’s a committee.”

  Having Donny as a best friend meant Dan was expected to put up with a lot, but sometimes he simply held a hand up and said, “No more.” Since becoming a fixed item with Prabin, however, Donny had become more of an unknown quantity, a slightly off-kilter version of the reliable nag he’d once been. Dan didn’t resent the change, and some days he actually liked it. Domingo, on the other hand, had come into his life when they were both neighbours raising young sons. Only Domingo’s boy disappeared following an episode of adolescent-onset schizophrenia, while Dan’s son Ked was maturing into a responsible adult who would soon leave the nest for university and find his place in the greater world.

  Dan was fond of Domingo for many reasons, not the least of which was her big, open heart. They both came from the wrong side of the tracks, she from a small town in Trinidad and he from Sudbury, a stunted mining town in northern Ontario. Both had been emotionally and physically abused as children, Dan by his alcoholic father and Domingo by a domineering, cold-hearted mother whose only legacy to her daughter was a belief in her so-called other-worldly abilities. For the most part, she and Dan spoke the same language. Where their swords had crossed in the past, however, was when it came to Domingo’s “thing.” She would look off into the distance and speak certain spooky truths that sometimes unnerved him. She had, in fact, accurately dissected the mind of a killer Dan encountered when even the police couldn’t catch him. It had been helpful, he later begrudgingly acknowledged, but he didn’t like it when she turned her X-ray vision on him.

  “Well, it’s nice to know you’ve been scheming behind my back again.”

  “Trust me — it’s for your own good. Don’t worry, we’ll weed out the self-absorbed assholes — there’s always loads of those — and see what happens if we narrow down the potentials. There is someone out there for you, I just feel it.”

  “You know what they say. No one laughs at a clown after midnight and no one loves a gay man after forty. Not even other over-forty gay men.”

  “Which is a very sad reflection of our ageist, looks-

  conscious society. But the thing is, Daniel, you are a commodity. I just wish I could make you see it.”

  “Funny, Ked says the same thing. Only he doesn’t meet many middle-aged gay men to introduce me to.”

  “What is your ideal man, by the way?”

  “Well under forty and extremely good-looking.”

  She tsked. “You need to take me seriously if I’m going to narrow down the potential candidates.”

  “Okay, on my wish list would be such sterling qualities as sincerity, loyalty, reliability, generosity —”

  “You’re describing yourself, but go on.”

  “And, of course, the ability to tolerate my temper as well as understand my strange and potentially alarming career choice. You will remember that’s why Trevor left me.”

  “So I recall.”

  “He couldn’t stand worrying about me every day, always dreading what might have happened if I was late getting home for supper or if I called to say I was going to be out at night investigating something unusual.”

  “You need someone with a strong emotional base. I think you may be surprised to find that not everyone is bothered by such things. What about physical attributes? Do you have a preferred type?”

  “Impossible to pin down,” Dan said, getting into the swing of things. “Donny claims I’m attracted to everything I’m not, so I guess it’s true that opposites attract.”

  “Well, that leaves it pretty wide open. Age?”

  “Emotionally mature. Preferably within a decade of my age. Just no kiddies or daddies-in-waiting.”

  “What about dating techniques?”

  Dan let out a whoop. “I have none. I’m absolutely defenceless on that count.”

  Domingo shook her head. “What I’m asking is whether you like to date casually or formally. Serially or singly. Do you like to see a variety of men or are you —”

  “A serial monogamist? The latter, I suspect. I get a little proprietary about my partners and I don’t care who minds if I do. I’m very old-fashioned that way. You can call me a one-man dog, if you like. I won’t take offence.”

  “Well, then it should be easy. I know a lot of guys out there who are looking for a nice, uncomplicated guy like you.”

  They came to a crosswalk and waited.

  “Next you’ll be calling me respectable,” Dan said.

  Domingo gave him a wry look. “I would never do that. You don’t have the right wardrobe, for one thing.” The light turned green and they walked on. “Anyway, it’s a start. Let me get back to you.”

  “What makes you so confident you can find me someone?”

  “You remember Kent? That sweet man who lived upstairs from Adele before she moved in with me? You met him at my birthday party.”

  Dan nodded. “Sort of. He wasn’t my type.”

  She swatted his arm. “Let me speak. What I wanted to say is, he once put a personal ad in the paper. This was back in the days before email and cellphones. Anyway, one afternoon he showed up at my door with a grocery bag full of letters. He wanted my help sorting them. It would have taken hours to read and reply to them all, people were so desperate back then. This was when AIDS was still killing everyone who got infected, don’t forget.”

  “Not tha
t I could.”

  “Anyway, I made him dump the whole lot on the carpet,” she said, indicating the ground with her gloved fingers spread wide. “I let my eyes roam over all those envelopes. One stood out from all the others. It was as if it had a glow. I picked it up and said, ‘Answer that one first.’ He did, and fell in love with the most marvellous man in the world. They’re still together sixteen years later.”

  Dan considered this. “And what about all the other poor guys left lying on the floor? What if there were thirteen other equally deserving Prince Charmings in the batch?”

  She shrugged. “He couldn’t very well date them all, could he?”

  “I guess not. Anyway, if you can find the right man for me you’ve probably got a good chance at a career in profiling.”

  “It’s not that far from what I do now.”

  “Event management?”

  She scowled. “You’re determined not to take me seriously today, aren’t you? No, I mean the other. My ‘thing,’ as you call it.”

  He was silent for a moment. “I just wish I understood it better.”

  “It’s okay. Most people don’t. But since that case you asked me to look into, the one with that sexually abused young man —”

  “Gaetan Belanger.”

  “Yes, that poor boy. Since then I’ve been looking into how serial killers think. It fascinates me, I don’t know why.”