Page 26 of Nothing But the Night (Basic Instincts 2)

Roaul stiffened. “Theo was a professional. He respected client confidentiality. That’s why they liked him so much.”

“But he did mention him?” Jason pressed.

After a moment he replied. “Yes. I don’t know anything else about him, though. It was a semi-regular thing. I don’t think Soloman had much free time. Theo only mentioned him a couple of times while I was seeing him. They maybe got together every second or third month. It was a purely professional arrangement.”

“Theo didn’t say he was worried about Soloman? That he made him uncomfortable?”

“No. He was always in a good mood after one of their sessions. I think Soloman paid well and neverasked him to do any of the kinky or degrading stuff some of his other clients were into.”

It remained an avenue worth pursuing. He now had confirmation that Soloman used male escorting services. As a married, right-wing Tory, he had a lot to lose if that information was made public. His family, his career and reputation. Was that worth killing for? People had committed murder for a lot less.

Jason proceeded cautiously. “The night he died, Theo was outside the Vermont Hotel. Pretty fancy. Was he on his way to meet a client?”

“We weren’t together anymore. I don’t know.” Roaul sighed and dropped the rest of his sandwich back into his lunch box. “I assumed so. He did meet guys there. He also filmed there a couple of times.” He threw the dregs of his coffee away and screwed the cup back on the Thermos. “I have to get back to work.”

“Just one more thing, please,” Jason said. “You’ve been a massive help already. I’d like to speak to whoever filmed Theo’s clips. It’s very professional but he doesn’t credit the photographers on any of his posts.”

“I never knew him. He used to hire a guy from here in Blyham, but they fell out. After that, I think he used a photographer from Newcastle.”

“What happened with the Blyham guy?”

“I really don’t know the details. Theo said he made him uncomfortable.”

“In what way?”

Roaul screwed his face up. “It’s a struggle to remember all this.”

“Please. Anything you can tell me will help.”

“Don’t hold me to this, because I could be confused. I might even be blurring more than one person. Therewas a photographer who shot most of Theo’s stuff. They got on all right for a long time, but then this guy started making comments that Theo didn’t like.”

“Such as?”

“Telling him he was going too far. That he shouldn’t do so much kinky stuff. He was working with too many interracial models. He thought Theo should go back to the vanilla boy-next-door stuff he started with. Theo hated being told what to do and he detested any kind of bigotry. He tolerated criticism of himself to a degree, but when this guy started dissing the diversity of his collaborators, Theo dropped him.”

“Was there any fallout from that?”

“No. He found the guy in Newcastle and continued what he was doing. He never mentioned the other fella again.”

Jason offered his hand and Roaul shook it.

“Thank you,” Jason said. “You’ve given me some invaluable information.”

Roaul smiled sadly. “I wish it wasn’t necessary. I wish Theo was still here. Though we weren’t together anymore, we were still great friends. Can you tell his brother how sorry I am. I saw the family at the funeral but didn’t want to intrude. I…didn’t even know what to say.” He choked and turned his head away. “I had to watch from outside the cemetery.”

Jason gently stroked his arm. “We’ll do everything we can to get justice for Theo. I promise you that.”

* * * *

Marc stood on the street looking at the office of Soloman Archer. He didn’t know why he was there. What had compelled him to drive to this section of thecity, just to look at a building? Soloman wasn’t even in Blyham. Marc had checked his Parliamentary account, and he was in London for a vote that evening.

Marc had been unsettled for the last two days. So much had happened. The murder of Dan Blumel, giving his statement to the police, being confronted by Nadine in the carpark afterwards. That morning, he’d gone through the motions of work at the factory, but his heart and mind weren’t in it. He had cancelled his diary appointments after lunch and got in the car for a drive to clear his head, but instead of heading for the coast, he’d found himself in the south end of Blyham.

Could Soloman Archer, a respected MP, really be responsible for the death of his brother and now Dan Blumel? It sounded so outrageous, and yet Marc couldn’t get the idea out of his mind. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself that he watched too much TV and real life was not a conspiracy thriller, he couldn’t get past the theory.

There was nothing fancy about Soloman’s office. It was nicely fronted in a good area of the city. It didn’t scream high power and political corruption.

What the hell. You’re here, anyway, might as well go inside.

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