Big Bang 2012: Love Lies Burning. 11/24

[anniespinkhouse]

Cupcakes are simple, cupcakes are easy and if he pastes on a smile, claps at the end of the presentation and shakes everyone’s hand then it doesn’t matter that his head is a whirlwind of guilt, confusion and lust. That is as long as the lust thing doesn’t end in an embarrassing physical reaction, because honestly, the image of Jen at the swimming pool, half naked with wet spiked hair, freckled shoulders and the most perfect feet, is getting to him. It’s easy enough to contain though, when he can switch to a scene of his nieces and nephew crying at the knowledge that their daddy isn’t coming home and it is all Uncle Jared’s fault. Then there’s the knowledge that this is it for him, the rest of his life decided. He’s an A class industry leader in the ‘ready to mix’ food market and he’s not feeling the excitement, glitter and rainbows of it, not at all.

Jared pulls his attention back to the conference table as voices are raised. There’s a heated debate and that wasn’t expected. Then, everyone is turning their heads to look for his opinion and he hasn’t got one because he hasn’t been listening. He looks helplessly at the giant cupcake that is split in half and on display in the middle of table, between the men in suits. “Um,” he says. The colors in the cake don’t exactly curve like a rainbow but they are all there, in a toddler-esque parody of one, and it is a huge invention for the ‘add water, mix and bake’ cake market. No other producer has perfected marbling to this degree and it’s down to the little disposable plastic gizmo that their scientists invented, to twizzle in the mix and spread the dye correctly. It’s not going to change the world but it’s a little bit awesome, and there should be no reason for an argument.

“Um, can you sum up both sides of the debate for me?” Jared draws himself to his full size with a ‘don’t mess with me’ attitude, and he can see the Marketing Manager and one of the factory representatives biting their tongues to prevent a sarcastic remark.

The Marketing Manager spits his fury first, “This is a family company, with family values. We cannot associate Padalecki products with dirty fags.”

Well that’s certainly a strong opinion. My father’s opinion, thinks Jared.

Two of the factory suits are holding another in his seat, “Rainbow has always represented equal rights and loving family values. What business did Padalecki think they were buying out four years ago? We are still targeting children and families but not all families are the same and there’s a whole sector of the market in student halls and youth. We are progressive and inclusive. This will expand our market base. Launching in the same week as our local LGBT movie week will give it huge visibility.”

And that is a superb idea, except that the Padalecki investors and shareholders are old school Texas with pretty much the same ‘traditional values’ as his bigoted father. The conflict is already giving him a headache.

“I will not work with a filthy bunch of unnatural queer supporters and I know that Padalecki Inc. will uphold this.” The Marketing Manager is going to bust a vein and the Rainbow executives look about to launch into a full blooded assault on the man.

Jared rubs at his temples. He doesn’t need this today and he’s reached the end of his tether.  “Are we recording this for the minutes?” he asks. There is ice in his voice.

“Yes, Mr. Padalecki, sir, and I’m taking notes.” It’s a bright young man, somebody’s assistant’s assistant but he always seems helpful.

“Good,” says Jared. “Will somebody do me a favor and grab one of our staff handbooks and bring it in. Thanks.” The same young man moves to get up, “No, you’re taking notes. Mr. Adams can do it,” he nods to a pudgy middle-aged man with perspiration dripping from his brow.

The Marketing Manager has his chest puffed out in self righteous anger, “I shall make a note to keep the launch as originally planned then, Mr Padalecki, sir.”

“Did I give that answer?” Jared’s eyes are narrowing and a few of the sensible attendees have nervously averted their gaze.

One of the senior executives from Rainbow is out of his seat and Jared already knows where this is going because he’s met him several times and Jared's gaydar is anything but faulty. He wonders how intuitive the other man is about Jared being in the closet. “Sit down!” he snaps. “We can make the decision when I’ve had a chance to look at your proposal and the figures.”

The Marketing Manager sneers, “And the figures will tell us that self respecting, wholesome, American families aren’t going to buy fag food.”

Something breaks in Jared, “Does anyone else feel that way?” he asks, his apparent calm betrayed by the red flush creeping up his neck.

There is silence in the room.

Mr. Adams hands his CEO a thin publication and Jared flicks through it until he finds the relevant section. He opens it and bends the pages so it stays, flat and readable as he flings it. It skims with speed over the smooth polished surface of the conference table, and with uncanny accuracy it comes to rest in front of the Marketing Manager.

There is something cathartic about having an actual book to throw at somebody when you are throwing the book at them. The staff hand book that every employee has signed up to adhere to, is very clear about offensive language and equal rights, even if Jared’s father hadn’t been. By lunchtime there is an empty desk and a vacancy for a senior role in Padalecki Inc.’s marketing department.



Jared takes a chance and sits on the far end of the bench in Padalecki Gardens. He shades his eyes from the low sun and speaks. “You can swim. I don’t mind.” He twirls his cufflinks and looks sideways at the green-eyed hobo. The long fingers have paused their sketching and Jen is staring at the page as if it holds the answer to all the mysteries of the world.

“It’s hard to do this, be this, and it works better when everyone thinks I’m an asshole. If they think they’re getting away with one thing it leads to another. Once they sense weakness it all falls down, and I’m not strong enough to pick it all up. Not nearly.” Jared isn't sure what has changed to make the truth flow from him but there’s nobody he can say this to. Even Misha would laugh and tell him to pull it together. Perhaps a therapist would be a solution but they will want to delve and analyse. Jen was there when he was at his most vulnerable and it should freak the hell out of Jared but nothing awful had happened, he was safe with him. More than that, Jen somehow found the crack in his soul, art is the therapy that never fails to comfort him. It is a puzzle, but it is far from frightening. The man is mute, whatever he tells this unusual tramp, it will remain unspoken. Jen could write it down but who is there to take an interest in his scribblings?

A lack of response encourages Jared to continue, “I fired somebody today. One of my father’s favorites. I probably screwed up, but there are some things that I can’t keep silent about. I don’t think I can pretend for the rest of my life.”

There’s the creak of wooden slats and sudden, solid warmth by Jared’s side. He startles as a soft hand finds his and squeezes it. Another hand reaches to delicately brush his hair from his bruised face. It’s unexpected but oddly welcome, and he leans into it. He wonders if stress has made him lose his mind.

“What do you see when you look at us? What are you drawing?”

The fingers fall from his face, there’s a rasping breath and a cough which Jen covers quickly with a tissue. When he’s finished coughing he pockets the tissue, reaches to the sketch pad and flips the cover. Jared senses the cool, assessing stare of bright green eyes on his face as he inspects the page.

It is drawn in black, blues and greys with pools of golden yellow illumination. The Padalecki building looms dark under thick clouds and around it is wrapped a giant python. The snake is tightly coiled and spiteful. It crushes the fine brickwork and stone lettering, scattering fragments that pile onto a lamp-lit sidewalk. It is both fantastic and sinister.

“You see that? What am I, the snake?”

The hand squeezes his fingers once more and Jared looks into the face of the artist by his side. Jen is shaking his head from side to side. No. The other hand reaches again and brushes under his jacket, over his shirt by his sore ribs and Jared flinches. There’s an expression on the tramp’s face and Jared knows there is communication. It is something he should understand, but it is too difficult. There’s a footfall nearby and Jared abruptly pulls his hand from Jen and moves to put a gap between them.

“Jen, shit! Where have you been?” There’s a petite brunette meter maid enveloping the hobo in a loose embrace.  She shuffles up on the bench, sandwiching the hobo between them. Jen looks uncomfortable and a little alarmed, but he stays still. It’s a tight squeeze on the seat, Sadie is wriggling and licking the woman with enthusiasm and she’s reaching into her satchel with the dog nosing curiously at it.

‘About.’ Jen signs, and Jared wonders what he is saying.

“Who is your friend?” She makes no effort to hide the way she looks Jared up and down, “I’m Sophia,” she says to the executive, with a smile, “Do you like cakes? They are giving away these awesome cakes from the building over there. They’ve got little rainbows.” She’s retrieved two wrapped cupcakes from her satchel and hands one to her friend, she’s eyeing the other and looking at Jared regretfully, “I only took two,” she admits, and he laughs.

“It’s okay, you can eat yours. I had the same idea.” He holds up a paper bag, reaches in to retrieve a matching pair and gives one each to Sophia and Jensen.

Sophia smacks her lips and groans in admiration for the sweet treat. “This is brilliant but it needs frosting. This would be so good with the frosting you squirt from a can. You know the stuff,” she looks to Jared as she tries to recall the name.

“Nana’s,” he grates out between gritted teeth. Danneel would be smug about that, he thinks.

“Mmhmm. That. Oh orgasmic! Imagine this with the special edition, stripy stuff.”

“Imagine,” he mutters, “What do you think Jen?”

Jen has closed his sketch book and is poised on the edge of the seat, chewing slowly. He’s zoned out from the conversation. Sophia catches Jared’s eye over the green-eyed man’s head. “Don’t be offended. He doesn’t keep up with small-talk very well. I didn’t get your name.”

“I’m Jared. Look I have to be somewhere, but it was nice to meet you Sophia.”

“Any friend of Jen’s …”

He’s almost on the sidewalk when there’s a deep, chesty cough. He stops and reaches into his pocket and takes a few paces back. He leans down and drops a bottle of cough syrup and a box of cold tablets onto the sketch book and Jen looks up, “I forgot. You should have these and try to stay somewhere dry and warm,” he pauses and thinks for a moment, “You mustn’t take them all at once, there’s instructions.”

Jen huffs and Sophia is indignant, “He’s different, not stupid, Jared.”

The tall man reddens and scratches his neck. “Well, anyway ...”

There’s a tug on his hand and Jen is writing on the cover of his sketchbook. Jared follows the flow, I will take the correct dose. Thank you. The pressure on his hand doesn’t cease and the writing continues, You are the building.

Fingers trail soft and slow over Jared’s palm as the silent man releases his hold, it stimulates a delicious tingle that travels his spine and curls his toes. The businessman is open mouthed, lost for words, and he’s not sure if it is in response to the written revelation or to the action.



When Sophia returns to work Jensen checks the list in his journal and breathes deep. He whistles Sadie to his side and walks with purpose to the Market Street Shelter and writes a note, asking for Christian. The tall blonde lady tells him that Christian isn’t there but he will be working, in the evening. He sits on the steps to the side of the door and waits.

Jensen doesn’t notice Katie telling him that he should come inside or find another place to be and she decides not to force the issue. She remembers this strange vagrant banging his head on the wall, in the gap between the trash bins, and doesn’t think she can deal with a similar incident on her own.

Sadie rests her head on Jen’s knee and he looks up to the blue. He catalogs the colors. He names every shade and numbers them. He counts the aeroplanes that fly in the sky and judges if they are outward or home bound.

Clouds start to gather and bodies step past him, some of them talk, but they aren’t in his reality.



Jared’s cell phone is vibrating and there are numerous messages to contact Alona, with the word URGENT in an ever increasing font size. He has no doubt that there are a number of people that think the morning’s events merit urgent attention but he’s not one of them. He switches the device off and welcomes his PI with a double shot Americano and white chocolate muffin.

“Well, I’m surprised. After the midday business news, I was kinda expecting you to cancel our meeting. I have to guess you want names and blood.”

“Business news?” Jared is lost, “I’ve not seen anything.”

Jim’s brows rise, “Have you not seen your share prices this morning.”

“I was in meetings and then I was here. Hang on.”

“Let me save you the bother. I have internet on my cell, It’s been an entertainin’ mornin’. If you’re not you,” Jim looks smug. It is his usual expression when he knows more than the person he is with, which is always.

The screen is turned to face him. A news page is displayed. A screaming tabloid headline announces, ‘Padalecki Inc. Feeding the Devil.’  Jared snorts. It is a lame title. He wonders if he can somehow tie in advertising for their Devil’s Food Cake Mix. Underneath the banner is a picture of Jeff and Danneel. It isn’t exactly unexpected, he’s the one who leaked it to the press. “So?” he asks and shrugs.

“There’s more.” Jim scrolls the page. “Oh. Here.”

Jared tilts the screen to see better and gasps. The phone clatters to the floor. “That’s not possible. Nobody has that. Not even Matt. There’s only one copy and it’s in my safe.”

“Well Princess, maybe your intimate friend Mr. Cohen lied, or the picture has an alarming ability to teleport. Nice butt by the way.” Jim picks up the phone and squints at the image, turning it in his hand. “You could have a career in gay porn. I could give you some numbers.”

“This is …” Jared is losing the power of speech and his eyes are bugging out of his head.

“Surprising, annoying, disastrous for your share price as investors pull out in numbers?” Jim continues unhelpfully, then sighs and softens his approach. “I assume Matt’s wife didn’t know, or your family? Who else knew? This came out of left field for me. It’s not like I don’t know you are gay, but it’s never been my business to pry into it. For what it’s worth, you may be an asshole but nobody deserves to be outed like that.”

“Gee, thanks Jim.” Jared rolls his eyes with the sarcasm. “My family knew. Pa knew. Frickin’ hated me for it. Matt’s wife, no. Oh, Christ! What a mess. I don’t understand who would have done this, or even who could have done.” He covers his head with his hands.

“I guess Mrs. Cohen knows now. I hate to bring Jeff into the discussion but things have a habit of getting messy between you. Is there a reason he might have wanted revenge?” Jim scrolls back to the page with Danneel and Jeff.

“Of course, but it’s not him. It’s not what he does. He wouldn't."

“For a fee I can find out.”

“No. It won’t take it out of circulation. I’ll be paying the lawyers for that.”

“Your father would have demanded revenge.”

“I’m not my father.” Jared bangs the table in frustration as he speaks, “Shit!”

“No. There’s a picture that proves it. Your father wouldn’t have been photographed in a compromising position with another man…”

“That’s not hilarious Jim.” Jared sighs, “You said you had something on the fires.”

“You’re gonna let it go, just like that?”

“What else can I do? The press already have it. I am gay. Hell, it had to come out sooner or later. Bitching to you isn’t going to aid damage control. I can be certain that Jeff and Alona are already on that. We’ll think of something. I need to know what else might hit the fan, so let’s get on with it.”

“Well, ain’t you the optimist.”

“Jim,” It is a growled warning.

“Your brother tried to hire me. I let him tell me all his troubles before I mentioned I had a conflict of interests. He wasn’t amused. I’m sure he has found someone with adequate qualifications and experience by now. What is interesting is he thinks you may have been stupid enough to start the Linden fire. Ironically, the cops are directing all their energies on Jeff. They are confident that they will be arresting him once the paperwork is approved.” Jim slips an envelope under the table. “I’m sorry. All I’m getting out of the department is that the evidence is solid. My sources are drying up on me, Padalecki has a reputation and they know this is under close scrutiny. Nobody wants a leak to be traced back to them. If it is any consolation, all other cases have been reopened and closed again. There’s nothing to suggest foul play with any of them, except Linden.”

Jared is pale and his fists clench and unclench slowly. He’s shaking his head and looks to be in shock. Considering the sort of day Jared is having Jim thinks it is possible, but he isn’t a nursemaid and he needs to wrap this up. Time is money and Jim has promised time to other clients this afternoon.

“How long?” Jared asks shakily.

“Today, tomorrow maybe. He could make a run for it, but it will get him convicted in absentia. If he is innocent, his best move is to co-operate until we track down the son of a bitch framing him. Do you want to do that?”

“Yes, yeah. Anything you need, usual rate and method.”

The PI nods. He motions to the waitress to refill their cups and settles back into his chair. “Good. See, I have a starting point. I don’t believe in coincidences, and all of this crap,” Jim waves his cell phone and points at his papers and envelopes, “shouldn’t magically happen, all at once. Generally there is a motive.”

Jared will take what information Jim has for him but he isn’t going to discuss his father’s will with him. He shrugs.

“You know, it’s real hard to work for folks who won’t tell you what you need to know, to help them.” The remark is thrown with sharp accuracy toward Jared.

“You said you have a starting point. I’m listening. I’m interested in your theory.” Jared’s eyes glitter hard steel.

Jim flexes his shoulders and opens a thick file. “I’ll begin then. Since this involves Padalecki Inc., as a whole, I have assumed revenge as a motive. I went looking for people you pissed off as a family or as a business. As it happens, finding someone in that pile is like looking for a needle in a haystack. I hate to say it but you’re ruthless bastards and there’s a lot of discontent left behind. Never mind. It was my conversation with Jeff that had me pondering. Of all the things you could be worried about there was one thing that had the pair of you panicking; the Becks explosion. The investigation isn’t being reopened but you both mentioned it, and I can read guilt Jared. It is all over your face now, and it was all over Jeff’s.”

“I went back. I took a look, wondered what I’d find. It was interesting, in a way, but don’t forget the capacity in which I have worked for you and for your father for the last six years.”

“The Becks case is closed. It’s never being reopened, but I think you and I know the official inquiry was bullshit.”

“According to the report an unknown worker, possibly Josh Ackles, brought in a CD player that created the spark and caused the explosion in a poorly filtered and badly maintained room. The fire and smaller explosions spread rapidly through the entire factory. It was, apparently, a nasty accident caused by a piece of electronic equipment that shouldn’t have been there.”

“If you know the ways your father worked, if you look carefully at bank accounts and documents, then there is a disparity. The report has been altered and certain key people paid off. It stinks of cover up, yet Padalecki Inc. took full responsibility, even admitted criminal negligence. They paid millions in compensation. That is very unlike your father. Why cover it up if it takes your business down? See, that puzzled the hell out of me.”

“So I went a little deeper and found the results that never made it to the inquiry. I put pressure on the forensics scientist who took early retirement. There is a theory that Josh didn’t own a CD player and reasons to believe that the one which caused the fire had been tampered with, so it not only caused a spark, but a flame. Then, there was the filtration system. That had been working the day before, and the vents had been sealed with tape overnight. Someone deliberately made that area thick with custard dust. There was gossip that Jeff picked on Josh when they worked the same shifts and most of the town agree that Josh Ackles hated working for your father, but he had family commitments, and there isn’t a whole lot of jobs in that town.”

“You were what, seventeen years old and your brother was twenty, home from university. You weren’t juveniles. Your daddy sent you and Jeff away to Europe within days of that explosion and neither of you returned until the main investigation was over. Again, if I didn’t know him, I would say that was him keeping you from the upset and pain, but that would be unlikely. He wasn’t Mary Poppins. I’d like to think he was protecting his sons from a prison sentence but he was probably more concerned about his own reputation.”

“No!” Jared is shaking his head, voice low, “It wasn’t like that. You make it sound like murder.”

“Was it? It’s none of my business Jared. I am simply looking for people with a motive. I work for you. I’ve seen far worse. Why justify it?”

“Because it wasn’t. It was …,” the executive suddenly looks very young. Staying silent is no longer an option if Jim thinks the explosion was deliberate. He bites his lip and leans forward so that his hair falls across his face and his voice is barely a whisper, “Josh was always stirring up shit, causing trouble for Jeff. Misha found out Josh was sweet on Cindy in dispatch, so we set him up. It was just a piece of trivial spite. We all knew that certain areas of the factory had high dust levels and we’d mucked about with static. If you set a spark in the right place you could get a brief arc of flame. It looked spectacular and made you jump but it was nothing more than, say, a tall flame from a lighter. It was supposed to make him look stupid, maybe singe his eyebrows or burn his fingers. If it meant he was caught in a prohibited area and got disciplined for it, then even better. What happened, it was…” Jared can’t continue, he doesn’t have words for the terror of watching the building burn, counting the injured and waiting for the remains of the dead to be found, knowing it was his fault. He has never found a word to describe the horror and self loathing that comes with the knowledge that he is a killer. It’s always there, inside him, the black stain that sets him apart from good people, marks him as evil. Sometimes he has wondered what it would be like to tell somebody, to let someone else share the knowledge. Now he has, it doesn’t change anything.

Jim Beaver ignores Jared’s wrecked expression. He lays two photographs on the table and points at them. “Tell me about Cindy and Josh.”

“Why? What’s the point?”

“Look, son. I don’t have to do this. If you had been honest from the jump, then maybe your naked butt wouldn’t be on the news. Perhaps you don’t want to remember the shit that happened in your past but I am sure it has everything to do with your present. The devil is in the detail. Shall we continue or not?”

Jared reluctantly agrees. He pulls the pictures toward him and studies them. Josh’s deep-green eyes burn uncomfortably into his conscience. Over the years he has meticulously avoided pictures or articles about the explosion. It brings the memories flooding back; Josh’s eyes had sparkled and he had smiled a rascal’s grin when Jared told him Cindy would be working in the store room. Jared had offered him a CD of her favourite song, before telling him where the player was hidden. Josh had been grateful, spouting thanks at him, while Jeff and Misha remained hidden, stifling cruel laughter.

The photograph doesn’t do him justice. Josh had been Jeff’s age, four years older than Jared and a handsome young man. Jared had noticed him, the beautiful bad boy, and had nursed a huge crush on him. It had been an awkward infatuation. Josh wasn’t gay and showed no signs of being bi. While Jeff was at college, Jared had taken to hanging out in the arcades where Josh and his friends met and the young man had tolerated the youngest Padalecki on the edge of their group.

Sometimes Jared thought that Josh knew why he was there, the older youth would laugh at something he said, then ruffle his hands through Jared’s hair and call him a poor little rich boy, but it was a mixed, casual assortment of youths and there was never a confrontation. When Jeff returned from university for the summer it all changed. He couldn’t risk anyone knowing he was gay, and being seen around Josh would raise questions he didn’t want to answer. Besides, the enmity between Jeff and Josh showed no signs of abating, and brothers stood together. When Misha had thought up the idea of the CD player creating a localised arc of flame in the dusty store room Jared had been uncomfortable about the prank, but he couldn’t admit to liking Josh. It was a stupid trick and they had played similar, foolish games before. It would make the sort of funny story that Josh liked to embellish and tell to his friends and he wouldn’t have to know the truth of it.

Josh had accepted the CD and the opportunity to impress Cindy because he trusted Jared in a way that he didn’t trust Jeff or Misha. He had smiled and thanked him for the poison gift. It hurt to remember that.

He puts a finger on the photograph of Cindy, the girl he killed, and drags it close. “Cindy Sampson. Home from college, like Jeff. She was hot, funny and Ivy League material. Her parents had their own business and she was a spoiled child. She was a cut above the usual factory fodder. Cindy was like us, working at Becks for holiday cash and to appease her parents. She could be a bitch and she slept around but it didn’t prevent her from being one of the ‘in-crowd’. She had a thing for the bad boys. She had her eye on Josh for weeks and he was playing hard to get, but he wanted her too.” Jared pauses, lost in his memories.

“What happened to her parents when she died? Did they get the compensation they were due?”

“They were devastated but they were the first to accept their payment. Pa made sure to apologize in person. He sent flowers to her funeral and bought a bench with a commemorative plaque for the park.”

Jim nods and pushes Josh’s picture at him, Jared stares at it for a long moment. “Josh was Jeff’s age and in Jeff’s class at high school. He was trailer trash. His father was god knows where and his stepfather was in jail. His mother was supposedly a high school teacher but she stayed home with his younger brother. Pa liked us to stay away from all the trailer park kids, but he was particularly adamant about the Ackles being thieves and trouble makers. When we were growing up Josh detested us and it was mutual, but as we got older he focused his hate on Jeff. They were in a lot of the same classes and it gave them opportunity to needle each other relentlessly. At the time I blamed Josh. I even got angry when he stepped into a fight between Jeff and I. Josh pulled Jeff from me and gave him a bloody nose. I was furious that he did that to my brother.”

Jim clears his throat and looks at the bruises on Jared’s face, “Seems you could still use that sort of champion.”

Jared chooses to ignore the remark. He takes a gulp of his cooling coffee and continues, “Josh was the unofficial leader of a gang of local kids. Mostly they were from the trailer park. A few were out and proud which produced a lot of hate. He wasn’t so bad to me. When Jeff was at college there was an unspoken truce.”

“What do you remember of his family?” Jim was coaxing him.

“I don’t remember his mother before the court case. I must have seen her about town but I didn’t notice her. She was thin, haggard and nervy. She smoked a lot and didn’t say much. Maybe she was okay before Josh died, I don’t know. She was a qualified high school teacher. I always thought she stayed at home to look after his younger brother. The lawyers argued that she had medical problems and that Josh had been the main carer for his brother. Jared huffs, “You already know this don’t you?”

“You need to think about it, it will help to talk it through.”

“When we were little, I think I was seven or eight, his brother was in my class at school.” Jared smiles, “I haven’t thought about him in years. He is two years older than me but he has something wrong with him, some mental disorder. Mostly he sat on his own, not paying any attention to the teacher or the rest of the class, but sometimes he acted odd. He would twirl in circles, say peculiar things or shout random words and nobody could touch him because he would hit out or sit in a corner rocking. He was weird,” Jared smiles fondly, “I kinda liked him. We both loved art and sometimes we’d be given a project together. The time with him always went by too quick. It was the only time he talked to me but it was fun. He knew all the names of the colors and could list all the Pantone numbers. He couldn’t paint anything unless the numbers were just right, but I’m not sure how he judged that. He would never use white because it had no Pantone number and that vexed him. He would mumble under his breath and try to invent a number for it, but he said that none ever quite suited it. ”

Jared pauses for a moment while he remembers, “Jensen could be shockingly truthful. He once told Miss Hargreaves that she had big breasts and asked if they were real. It was hilarious.” Jared finds himself chuckling at the memory. “He wasn’t in my class for long. One Monday morning his desk was empty and when I asked, Miss. Hargreaves told the class that Jensen’s Ma was a high school teacher and that she would be giving Jensen his lessons at home.”

“Jensen.”

“Excuse me?”

“You remember that Josh’s little brother is called Jensen.” Jim looks at Jared with a curious gaze, as if he is expecting some reaction.

“I’m sure it was. It was kinda unusual and it suited him. I don’t recall much about him after he left the school. He hardly ever came out of their trailer and when he did, it was with Josh, like he was glued to his side or hiding behind him. Josh might have been a trouble maker but he was devoted to his brother. He would skip school or back out of social events because of him, and it didn’t matter how bizarre his behavior, he would never hit him.”  Jared is caught up in his thoughts again. I wanted someone to care for me that way.

“Did you wonder why their Ma suddenly decided to give up her career and home-school Jensen?”

“Not really. You don’t think about it at that age. Even the teachers called him retarded and a lot of the parents objected to him being in school with their child. I remember being told by Pa that the Ackles were all thieves and couldn’t be trusted. It must have had some truth because their step-father got put away for burglary. It was rumored that Jensen was expelled for stealing, but kids make up all sorts of stories in the yard. I didn’t believe it at the time, but it may have been true. Jensen was gullible. Someone once told him that it was his turn to take the school flag home to wash. He just went out there, took it down and put it in his school bag. It got him into terrible trouble. The teacher slapped him. She said he wouldn’t understand detention. We called him retard and teased him for it,” Jared blushes with the shameful memories of bullying the boy.

Jim nods, “Jensen was caught stealing, but not at school and not alone. There was a spate of robberies, all elderly residents. The burglars were professional, real slick. Jensen’s step-daddy was caught in your grandmother’s house. He admitted the rest and more, on condition that his accomplice was excluded from proceedings. That accomplice was nine year old Jensen. Reportedly, their downfall was Jensen waking your Grandma, to tell her that the Wedgewood Vase on her hearth was the same color as the sky. Like you say, the boy was weird about colors.”

“Grandma was burgled?” Jared’s eyes widen. “I never knew.”

“They were caught in the act, nothing was damaged or missing, and they surrendered easy. Your Pa played quite the merciful Elder Statesman. He ran that town. He agreed with the local justice department that all records of Jensen being involved could be erased on two conditions. The first; he got to discipline the boy with a strapping. The second; he didn’t want to see or hear of the boy again. Jensen wasn’t to attend school or clubs or even the local health center. His mother agreed to it because the threat was that Jensen be put in a mental hospital if it went to juvenile court.”

Jared frowns. “Jensen wasn’t crazy.”

“I worked for your daddy and I admit to a lot of awful deeds, but I wouldn’t have got involved in that. There are a lot of things your daddy did, but this has to be one of the most despicable. The boy was expertly coached, and like you say, easy to dupe. Your Pa denied that boy his rights for years, when no decent judge would have punished him.”

“So, Josh was right about us. We deserved his hate. If I was Josh I would have killed us all,” Jared pauses to think, “Did you find out what happened to Jensen in the end? I know the compensation included a large sum for him, but I never asked about him.”

Jim leans back in his chair and his lip quirks. He flips his hands in a gesture of ‘are you seriously asking that?’ and waits for Jared to catch up. Jared just stares back at him.

Jim continues, “He stayed in the trailer, just carried on studying. It seems the boy was a full on genius. He got a ridiculous number of diplomas, mostly in business studies and accountancy.  When Josh died in that fire, he got hold of the best lawyer he could find, who would work for a cut of the compensation. For the next five years he set about destroying Padalecki Inc., suing for compensation and an apology for Josh.”

“He was never in court.”

“He didn’t have to be. He was pulling the strings though. He made sure the lawyers kept the Becks explosion and Padalecki’s negligence in the limelight for five years. Your Pa finally settled for a record sum and a reluctant press statement about there being no evidence that Josh had caused the fire. Josh Ackles never got the public apology that Cindy Sampson did.”

“Jensen finally got out of his trailer,” Jared gives a wry smile.

“His Ma still lives there, what’s left of her. She’s a mess. Jensen stayed on for a few years but he’s not there any more. Nobody is sure when he left, just that he adopted a dog from a local animal shelter and sometime later, he wasn’t around.”

Jared scoffs, “He hit us hard. I hope he’s in frickin’ Malibu.” Five years spent living in fear wondering what the lawyer’s experts might stumble across to ruin his life and prove him a murderer.

Jim stares at him again. Finally, finally something that Jim said registers with Jared. Jensen adopted a dog. He has sketched a man with his dog, in the gardens, and the hobo sketched him too. He pulls Josh’s picture up and studies it. Green eyes, pale skin with a dusting of freckles, pink lips and dirty blond hair look back at him. Not an exact match but enough of a resemblance. “Jen,” he breathes, “It can’t be! Josh’s brother could speak.”

“Hallelujah!” Jim gives him a slow, sarcastic hand clap. “Maybe he could when you knew him. Who’s to say what happened to him after? There’s all sorts of ways trauma affects a sensitive child.”

“He’s rich. Why would he be living on the streets?”

“Like you say he’s gullible. He could have given it away or invested unwisely. Just because he was given money and got the exams don’t mean anyone taught him how to spend it. Finding a place to stay requires social skills, which he appears to be lacking. He don’t seem desperate homeless, some are content that way.”

“What does he want?”

“No idea. Perhaps he has a crush.” Jim speaks sarcastically before shrugging and speaking again, “Revenge, I would imagine. Word has it somebody was seen at Linden on the night of the fire, and the description matches your boy.”

“No,” Jared shakes his head, “he’s had the opportunity to hurt me, so many times, and he hasn’t.”

“There’s lots o’ways to hurt. Some are more imaginative than others.”

“Have you been following him?” Jared thinks it’s a little late to suddenly worry about the idea of Jim watching his lewd behaviour.

“Y’asked me to dig, not follow. I can follow if ya want me t’follow.”

“No. I just thought I saw somebody watching him. Broad guy, beard, decidedly heavy.”

“As I said earlier, your brother has obtained the services of another professional. I have a suspicion he was quicker on the uptake with Jensen. I think he recognized him some time ago.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

“I’m a PI not a psychic or family therapist. You should consider several things; If you didn’t tamper with the plug on that CD player, who did? How did the store room vents get blocked? There was more than you two Padaleckis involved. Now, I hate to pry, but how much do you really know about Collins Enterprises?”

Jared is quick to anger at the suggestion, “They are practically family. There is no crossover between the businesses. Why would you even bring that up?”

“I’m not making any accusations Jared. Collins is a big, complicated business. I worked for them long before I worked for your daddy and you should know I don’t break confidences. I’ll just say they don’t need me any more. It was how I was recommended to your father.” Jim shrugs and continues, “What are all the things that Jensen knows about you? How many ways can he fuck up your life?”

His mind is in a whirl. Facts shift and swirl, memories mix with emotions and fears. Jensen was at Linden on the night of the fire. Jensen broke into his home. Jensen bypassed his alarm and saw the painting of Matt. Jensen had kissed him and it hadn’t felt vengeful or angry. Jensen had sketched him and left flowers for him to paint. None of it makes sense.

Jared sinks lower in his seat and picks at a napkin. “I don’t know. He’s been watching for two years. What doesn’t he know?”

“We can revisit the idea of making him disappear.”

“No!” The refusal is barked out, louder than intended. He steadies himself and returns to a low whisper, “Becks was an accident. I may be a bastard but I’m not a murderer Mr. Beaver.”

“Now, that is an idjit decision but I have to applaud you. Times I wondered ‘bout you. You might yet be a better man than your daddy. ‘Sides, no point in spending money that don’t need spent. I’m sure your brother has it in hand.”

“He wouldn’t. We don’t do that. We aren’t killers.”

“Technically you are.”

Jared cuts him off with a single glance. “There has to be something we can do. I can talk to Jensen. We can reason with him.”

“Good luck with that,” Jim mutters. The PI’s phone beeps, “Oh look, that’s Padalecki stock falling to a new low.”

“Give that here.” Jared snatches the phone and looks at the screen, “I have to deal with this. If you have any instant solutions, call me. I’m not beyond bribery. You know my limits.”

He looks for Jensen when he returns to the Padalecki building but he’s no longer in the gardens. There is a gnawing worry that lingers in the pit of his stomach and it isn’t for what Jen might do to Padalecki. Jared’s world is spinning out of control and truths and certainties have become lies and doubts. He scowls at the doorman and slams the glass door too hard behind himself.

Part 12
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