Free The Dream Ender by Dorien Grey Page B

partner AIDS. Still, it didn’t take much of a stretch to realize what he meant by “a gift” or “leaving” them something. And all the incidents I’d heard of had happened at least a couple of months ago. AIDS was killing guys within a matter of weeks in some cases. Whoever said it could well be dead himself by now. Cal Hysong was, from all reports, as healthy as they come.
    Val had mentioned Typhoid Mary. Maybe it was possible for someone to carry AIDS around with them and give it to others without being sick themselves. But then how would they know they had it if they weren’t sick? There was no test yet. Maybe it just progressed slower in some people than in others. Who knew?
    Which was exactly one of the major problems. If anybody did know, they weren’t telling the rest of us.
    One very interesting thing I remembered about both stories was that the guy insisted all the lights be turned off before having sex. Was that just one of his hangups, or might it have another meaning? And was there some tie-in to the turning off of the lights in the Male Call’s back room?
    Cal Hysong yes or Cal Hysong no, I decided to check to see what Brewer knew about him.
    *
    “Brewer,” the voice on the other end of the line announced.
    “Mr. Brewer,” I began—I always address a client formally unless and until asked to do otherwise, and Brewer thus far hadn’t—“it’s Dick Hardesty. I’ve got a couple of questions for you.”
    “Shoot.”
    “I’ve heard several references to a guy whose description I understand fits one of your regulars—Cal Hysong—and his name’s come up a couple of times. What can you tell me about him?”
    “Cal? He’s why leather bars were invented. He’s one mean, tough sonofabitch and nobody messes with him, but he’s never been a real problem.” He paused. “You’re not saying Cal’s behind these rumors?”
    “No…at least, not directly. I assume he used the back room while it was open?”
    “Who didn’t?” Brewer answered.
    “And I understand you had some problem with guys unscrewing the lights in there.”
    “Yeah, and that really pissed me off. If the fire inspectors came in and caught that, they could have my license!”
    “Did you ever hear any stories about what happened back there when the lights were out?”
    “What do you mean? Same thing went on when the lights were out as when they were on, only maybe with a little more intensity, if that’s possible.”
    “Nobody reported some guy screwing them and then telling them they were dead men?”
    There was a long pause before a very unconvincing, “No.”
    “Look, if I’m going to help you get to the bottom of this thing, you’re going to have to be honest with me.”
    “Well, okay, yeah, one or two of the guys mentioned they’d heard something like that, but I didn’t believe it. Some of these guys have a strange sense of humor, and I figured it was probably just some bastard joking around. A lot of these guys like to play the intimidation game.”
    “That’s a pretty sick joke,” I said.
    “Yeah, I’ll admit telling somebody you’ve just fucked that he’s a dead man is pretty sick, but I can’t imagine anyone seriously meaning it—or anyone taking them seriously, for that matter. And if you’re thinking it might be Cal, all you have to do is take a look at him. Six-four, two-forty if he’s a pound, not an ounce of fat on him—solid muscle. He’s a steelworker on the Century Tower project, swinging I-beams into place all day. He’s as healthy as a horse.”
    “You don’t have to look sick to be sick,” I pointed out.
    “No, but…” A long pause, then, “No. Not possible. I can ask him what he’s heard about all this, but I don’t know what good it might do.”
    “Well, I’d be curious as to his reaction to the question,” I said. “What else can you tell me about him?”
    “He’s an arrogant son of a bitch. I can’t remember him ever saying anything positive about