More by Sloan Parker (best ebook reader for chromebook .txt) 📕

“So, you're putting together a shindig for them?”

“Yeah. The next one's their thirty-fifth.”

“Thirty-five years. Damn. I gotta tell ya when I got your call I was freaked. I thought maybe something happened to him. And I was getting the call, you know.”

“Sorry.”

He waved his hand through the air. “Nah. Don't worry about it. It's not like we kept in touch. I just— well, I didn't wanna get that call. Not about John. I'm glad it's a good thing. A party.”

“It's a ways off but I wanted to start getting stuff together. See if I could locate some old friends, gather some stories. I'd like to put together a DVD. I got stuck when I started with college and when they met. I don't know anyone from then. Yours was the first name I came across. You and my dad were in a picture together in the senior yearbook.”

“Yeah? Your dad and I were close. Not as close as he and Danny or Phil. But we were all good friends. The five of us. Right off the bat our freshman year when we took Intro to Psych.”

“Five?”

“The four of us guys and Maria. Although, she was like one of the guys. Except she talked way too much.” He laughed again and took another drink of his beer, swallowing half of it in one lift of the bottle. “I haven't seen any of them in years. How's your dad doing? Oh, can that. He's great, I bet. I catch him on C-SPAN. I read the papers. I always knew he'd land near the top.”

I wasn't so sure my father had landed yet. “He's doing well.”

“Good. I didn't come from money like a lot of the other guys, but he never treated me like it mattered.” Vance stared at the bacon-grease-filled frying pan again. “Boy, those were some good times. And your dad was— well, I'll avoid the details since you're his son, huh? Let's just say college is the time to live it up, and your dad sure was a good guy to have around.”

I bet.

“You thinking about inviting the old gang?” he asked. “There was the five of us, but your dad had a lot of friends. It'd be a kick to see everyone. And I've got stories. Loads.”

“I was hoping you could give me some names. Round out the invite list.”

He recited a list of names as they came to him, and I jotted them down. My hand cramped, and I'd had two more beers by the time he stopped throwing out names and telling me anecdotes about one party after another.

I pointed to the list of names. “Which of these were the three other close friends you mentioned?”

“Maria Lammon.”

I circled her name and looked up at him when he didn't say anything more.

He sighed. “Phillip Meade and Danny Conner. But they won't be on that list. Danny passed away the night before we graduated.” The sadness started in his eyes and worked its way down his body, overwhelming him like the kid had died just last week.

“I'm sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“I couldn't find any photos of my dad's graduation. Is that why he wasn't there?”

He nodded. “None of us went. Your dad never mentioned Danny?”

“No.”

“They were close. Danny was a quiet kid, small. Your dad looked after him. Hell, we all did. Danny was the same age as us, but we all sorta thought of him like a little brother.”

“How did he die?”

Vance pinched the bridge of his nose. “Drug overdose. I wasn't there that night. I always felt bad about that.”

“What was he on?”

“I don't know— I don't remember. It's not like he was some big drug user. It was a rare thing for him to even drink all that much. I'm sure I knew at the time what it was.” He rushed to say the rest. “If you're curious about Danny, you should talk to Maria. She's a talker. At least she was back then. I don't think I've seen her since, well, since your parents’ wedding. God, I'm getting old.”

“And what about Phillip Meade?”

“He passed away. Five years ago now. Heart attack.” Vance collected our empty beer bottles and tossed them into a container under the kitchen sink. He kept his back to me and stared out the window. “I read it in the paper. Went to the funeral and everything. Thought maybe I'd see Maria or John there. Didn't see either of them, though.” He faced me. “Funny how life goes. I thought we'd always be friends.”

“Life doesn't always work out the way we think it will,” I said.

“Tell me about it.”

“I've dropped the story.” Summers sounded annoyed that I'd bothered him with my call.

After talking to Roger Vance, I was convinced I was on the right track. I phoned Summers during the forty-five minute cab drive back to Richard's.

“Why?” I asked. The chatter of his office masked the silence on the line as I waited for him to explain.

“There wasn't much there, I'm afraid. I thought I was onto something, but I couldn't find anything in his past worthy of a story. My editors wanted me off it. I've got bigger fish to fry. Your father... he appears to be exactly who we've been led to believe he is.”

Sure. “Can you tell me what your story was about?”

“It was more of a hunch. It didn't get me much of anything. I'm sorry I led you to believe it was more. It's how I work interviews. People will share more information when they think you don't need what they've got to tell you. Listen, I've got to run. Sorry for the waste of time and all that.”

My father got to him. He could get to anyone. “Can you tell me one thing? Were you looking into the death of Danny Conner?”

Click.

That was an answer. Was it the one I wanted?

Chapter Eighteen

“Can I fuck you tonight?”

Richard stood still. He stared at Matthew, his eyes wide, his hands at