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“One, but everyone has sneakers, too, for off duty—whatever they brought up with them. And they have four pairs of jeans.”
I look down from the perch. “I’ve been told that Gunnar entertains up here.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“He said women come up and visit if they see him here.”
“So I’ve heard.”
I look from the open end of the loft to his boots. That’s risky, isn’t it? Setting up a dummy version of himself when his “guests” know that seeing those boots means he’s open for company?
Yes, those are his boots and jeans, but that doesn’t mean he’s the one who put them here.
I check the area. There are crumbs, from snacks of some kind, and two empty beer bottles. There’s also a blanket, presumably for cool nights.
I head into the main part and walk to the other blankets. There are several of them, along with a pillow and that box of condoms. There’s also spermicide. Plus a sleep mask and what looks like a bathrobe belt, the purpose of which I won’t speculate on.
I head to the ladder. I reach the bottom, where Yolanda left the door cracked open for light. I’m reaching for it when itopens and I nearly run into a dark-haired woman whose name escapes me. She stops short and then flushes.
“Uh, sorry,” she says. “I saw the door ajar, which means Gunnar is, um, open for visits.” Her cheeks redden even more as she says, “You, uh, need to close that when you go up, so no one walks in on you.”
Behind me, Yolanda chokes on a laugh. The woman looks over my shoulder and sees her, and there’s a moment where shestillthinks she knows why I’m here, and her eyes widen, presuming Yolanda and I were both here for the same reason… together. Then she claps a hand to her mouth.
“Oh, my God,” she says. “I’m so sorry. You’re talking to Gunnar about the case. Obviously. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s fine,” I say. “He’s not here anyway.”
She frowns. “But I saw his boots just a couple of minutes ago.”
“It’s not him,” I say simply. “And we’re the ones who left the door open when we came in. So that’s the signal? If it’s closed, he’s otherwise occupied?”
She flushes and stammers, and behind me, Yolanda says, “Detective Butler doesn’t care why you were here and neither do I. Consenting adults and all that. She’s asking for the purposes of her investigation.”
“Oh, um, right. Yes. Kind of. The closed door just means he’s not accepting, um, company. Sometimes he has someone else visiting. Other times, he just wants to hang out by himself. A closed door means turn back.”
And by this point in the job, Gunnar will have his established cadre of “guests,” all of whom understand and respect that closed door. If he wants to be alone, he shuts it. And if he wants others to think he’s up here alone, he stages it and then closes the door, and everyone who knows about his not-so-secret perch spot will see his boots and think he’s up there… which means he’s free to do whatever he wants, and go wherever he wants, and no one will be the wiser.
Yolanda and I head to Gunnar’s apartment in the men’s residence. His is the one closest to the door, which is why he’d been the one to answer that night when I went looking for Yolanda. Or did he answer because he was lying awake, figuring out what to do after shoving Bruno off a cliff? And did he justhappento be assigned the room by the door, where he could easily slip in and out?
No, that wasn’t accidental.
“What Gunnar wants, Gunnar gets,” Yolanda mutters as we search his quarters. “He’s a manipulative bastard, and to be honest, I liked him for it.” She pauses, her hand on a dresser drawer. “Not that way.”
“Never suspected and wouldn’t judge if you did. My past contains a string of hot guys who came one hundred percent commitment-free.”
“Same. But I prefer not to be part of quite so large a cast, and I don’t hook up with the crew. That crosses lines. The thing about Gunnar is that he was openly manipulative. He didn’t try to hide it, and so people actually let him get away with more shit.”
“They were charmed even as they knew they were being manipulated, because he didn’t hide his intentions.”
“Yep, good-looking guy, happy to provide eye candy and more, who also has—despite appearances—enough of a brain to carry on a decent conversation. He wanted this bedroom, and he got it, not by throwing his weight around, but by asking for it and making promises to get it.”
“And then conveniently forgetting the promises,” I say as I search under Gunnar’s bed.
“No,that’swhy he gets away with it. He keeps his promises. He was a damn fine worker, and I was impressed enough that I told Will Anders to let him stay when he asked. Now I realize the bastard knew exactly how to manipulateme.”
“By being a good worker.”
“Yep.” She closes the drawer. “You finding anything?”
