Introduction
Carolina Connections
is a fast-moving story of rough-and-tumble gay male relationships with a measure of bisexuality and a hint of lesbianism. It follows the development of drug smuggling, rent-boys, and missing persons themes moving from North Carolina's Duke University in North Carolina, to Thailand, and back to Asheville. Where all of the characters intersect, most more than once, is that they all have Carolina connections.
The main story, "Odd Man In," is one in which private investigator Ryan Bailey is contracted to find a missing person involved with furniture import business partners Patrick and Haley Thornton, Kevin and Megan Grimes, and Thai-black American mixed-race Ty Thanawat. In unraveling the mystery of Patrick Thornton's disappearance, Ryan finds that the relationships, activities, and motivations among the two all-American and hedonist couples and the mysterious Ty Thanawat are not what they seem on the surface.
The main story is followed by four stories of earlier times in this mystery that help unravel and illuminate the motivations, relationships, and outcomes among the interconnected Carolinians.
Odd Man In: Hotel Work
It was hot, hot, hot, here in the mountains this summer. It must have been hot as hell down in the Piedmont. I couldn't believe our luck in Kendrick's choice of Asheville hotels, and everything went as smooth as clockwork--for everyone but Kendrick, of course. I had waited in the lobby of the hotel, where I could see Tony at the hotel's bar through a wide door arch. I had thrown Tony into Kendrick's sights the previous Saturday. Kendrick had taken the bait and was meeting Tony here for seconds.
Tony and I exchanged glances frequently but we both looked away each time a man--and it always was a man--walked through the hotel's main door from Haywood Street, looking ready to melt from the summer heat and then shriveling as he was hit by the hotel's air conditioning. Eventually, it was Kendrick, sliding in like he hoped nobody could see him. He saw Tony in the bar. Tony nodded at him, but Kendrick didn't go to the bar. He went to the reception desk, checked in, and received a hotel room key card. He came over to near where I was sitting, reading a copy of the hometown
Asheville Citizen-Times
, which I rarely bothered to read but was devouring now. I burrowed into the paper as he took out his cellphone and placed a call.
Tony's phone rang in the bar, and I heard the words "room 508" spoken as clearly as I'm sure Tony did. That was convenient. I'd thought I would have to ask at the desk. I was well known here, fortunately, and the desk would have given me the room number. They knew I'd keep everything quiet. They wanted to be used for assignations like this as little as possible.
Kendrick went to the elevator and pushed the up button. I sauntered past the reception desk after the elevator doors shut and headed for the stairs. Passing reception, where the desk attendant was giving me a sloppy grin, I smiled back and shot him the bird. He knew that was my "thanks" for assigning a fifth-floor room. Frank was forever saying I should get more exercise. This obviously had been his contribution to that campaign. I took the stairs and positioned myself down the hall, in the alcove off the corridor, behind a conveniently placed potted cornflower plant, in time to see the door to room 508 close.
Ten minutes later Tony walked out of the elevator, spotted me and nodded, and then went to room 508 and knocked quietly. As arranged, he held Kendrick, who already had his shirt off, at the open door for a kiss and a grope long enough for me to get a couple of shots of them on my cellphone before they backed into the room and shut the door.
I took the elevator back down to the lobby and folded up the newspaper and dropped it into a trashcan. Fifteen minutes later, I called Mrs. Kendrick. This was the tricky part. She was a good-looking, leggy blonde as much on the make as her husband was, but she was also fickle. This was the second divorce case of hers I'd worked on--with the same husband. She had divorced him before and he'd settled a fortune on her to keep from having the gay angle brought into it. She married him again and we were right back to it. She must have run out the settlement money from the first case. But I wasn't that sure she'd go through with the discovery drama again.
"If you can get here in a half hour, with a witness or you lawyer, you'll have what you need. I'm sending you a cellphone photo for your evidence file."
I doubted she could make it any sooner. I'd held off as a promised favor to Tony. He wanted time to collect his fee and he didn't mind earning it. I just had to play it to keep the heat off him. I'd told Mrs. Kendrick and her lawyer I'd get something set up if they kept the rent-boy out of it. He'd positioned himself at the door to room 508 at an angle he couldn't be identified in the clutches with Kendrick. And he wasn't the one half naked in the photo.
She arrived with her lawyer in tow almost precisely on time. They paused where I was sitting only long enough to get the room number after they'd agreed once more to let Tony leave as if he'd never been there and without them making any reference to him being part of a setup--indeed that this had been set up at all in advance--and in dealing with Kendrick without the authorities or any mention of this hotel either. I'd worked with the lawyer before--he's the one who connected Mrs. Kendrick with me--and I knew he'd handle this right.
After they went up in the elevator, I sauntered into the bar, sat on the stool Tony had occupied, and waited and watched.
"You waiting for someone?"
He was sitting at the other end of the bar. Younger than my forty by about a dozen years, well put together, in an expensive suit, a glass of scotch and an ashtray on the bar top in front of him. He was blond, his hair wavy, in contrast to my black, with a bit of gray at the temples and hiding in my near buzz cut. He was trim and clean cut in contrast to my heavily muscular build and a riot of colorful tattooing that was only hinted at through the opaqueness of my white shirt. And he was decidedly model handsome in contrast to my rugged looks with a nose that had been moved around a bit by someone's fist.
"No one in particular," I said, as I saw Tony strutting by toward the hotel exit, a satisfied look on his face. I found that satisfying, as well, maybe marking an end to my current case responsibility. "Maybe I'm waiting for you," I added, turning a smile on the young, clean-cut suit.
"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked. Stan the barman edged down toward me, pulling a Bud Lite out of a countertop refrigerator as he moved. It wasn't lost on the young suit that Stan knew what I would want to drink.
"I'd be happy to take a beer," I said, seeing George Kendrick pass the door to the bar at a fast clip. He was sweating. Another good sign. I turned to the guy at the other end of the bar. "It would be all I'd take," I said. "I mostly give." It was best to make just stances clear from the beginning, although anyone who looked at me and this pretty guy would know who was likely to be on top.
