Page 70 of Shake Your Boo Thang

“He always felt… sleazy, if you know what I mean. Reggie was always looking for ways to make a quick buck. As far as I could tell, the business was legit, but I was barely legal at the time, so it’s not like I had anything to base that on. And who knows where he got the money for all those renovations? I do remember that he cut corners where he could and paid a lot of us under the table to save on his taxes.”

“Was the club financially successful?” Beau asks. “Did anyone have issues with the LGBTQ folks who went there?”

Ken considers this. “As far as I remember, the club was making good money. Yeah, there were a fair few gay guys who were regulars, some of them friends of the bartender, Peter. But folks kept that pretty quiet back then. We didn’t have too many issues apart from an occasional fight or two if someone hit on the wrong bloke. Peter’s friends mostly knew who was family, as they called it, and were cautious with anyone else.”

“That makes sense,” Beau says. “Even today, I have to be vigilant in certain places and situations as an out and proud gay man.” He points to his matching rainbow bow tie and suspenders. “I don’t exactly hide it.”

Ken gives him a gentle smile. “Times have changed since back then, but there’s still a long way to go, isn’t there?”

Beau nods, his attention rapt.

“In those days, nightclubs were popping up all over the city. The Midnight Vault was in a good location so it was busy most nights, but especially on weekends.” He chuckles and runs a hand over his short hair. “Back then, we didn’t have cell phones or the internet. Shit, we barely had bloody video games. For a lot of us, if we weren’t at the pub, we were at a club, regardless of the date.”

“Sounds profitable to me,” I offer.

“As far as I could tell from the front door, sure. The problems really started I think because Reggie had a liking for the ponies.”

“Gambling?” I say, my detective inspector internal radar going on high alert.

“How did you find out about that?” Beau asks, and I shoot him a smile and a nod of approval.

Ken laughs. “It wasn’t a secret. Everybody bloody knew. Reggie wasn’t exactly quiet about it. He bet on horse racing all the time, bragging whenever he won money and raging when he lost. But I also heard that he used to frequent some of the private casinos down in Mayfair. That’s what Peter told me one time, anyway. Those were members-only clubs though, and I don’t know how he got himself a membership, so who knows? He may have gone to illegal casinos instead and Peter was just mixed up. I don’t know for sure. In those days, they were cracking down a lot on underground gambling in the city, but it still happened if you knew where to look.”

Beau waves a hand airily. “My mama always says A fool and his money are soon parted.”

Ken leans back in his chair and crosses his still muscular arms over his chest. “That’s the god’s honest truth. Reggie wasn’t too bright about such things. All I know is that Peter was getting worried in the weeks leading up to the fire. He told me that Reggie’d gotten himself in a bit too deep with his bookie and Peter thought he’d started using money from the club account to pay off his gambling debts.”

Now we’re talking a potential motive here.

“How did Peter know about all of this?” I ask.

“He and Reggie were kind of unofficial business partners, I guess. Reggie was the owner, but he left most of the running of the club to Peter.”

“Sounds like Reggie was taking advantage of Peter, if you ask me,” Beau chimes in with a frown.

Ken’s expression turns sad. “You’re right about that. But Peter’d had trouble with other jobs because he was like you, Beau, out and proud, at a time when that was bloody hard. Lots of prejudice in those days, and you could lose jobs because of it. From what I saw, Reggie was more concerned with making money than with Peter’s sexuality. As long as the club was bringing in plenty of cash, he let Peter run the show.”

I frown. “Is there anything else you can tell us about Reggie? Something that might help us track him down?”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose the one thing Reggie did right was taking responsibility for his nephew, Owen. Real young he was when I met him. Fourteen or fifteen? Something like that. Anyway, his mother died when he was about ten, and Reggie took him in.”

“That’s interesting. Was Owen like his uncle? Did he help out at the club?” Beau asks with guileless curiosity.

“Nothing at all like Reggie, which was honestly a bit surprising. Real quiet guy. He was too young to be in the club at night but he’d come round during the day sometimes to help us with liquor deliveries and tidying up after the night before. Reggie’d pay me extra under the table to come in during the day from time to time to move heavy liquor boxes and other equipment. He made good use of his nephew too. Owen once told me he wanted to make sure and earn his keep. I didn’t mind, the kid would regularly mop down the floors and clean the toilets and that meant I didn’t have to. His uncle didn’t pay him anything for it, but Owen was happy. He really looked up to Reggie.” Ken frowns. “Anyway, I’m not really sure what happened to him. I kind of lost track of both of them after the fire.”

“Were you there when the fire happened?” Beau asks with concern. “From what I read, it sounds like that was a real tragedy. Apparently, there were some people still in the building who couldn’t get out? I can’t imagine living with that memory.”

Ken’s expression turns grim. “No, I wasn’t there. If I had been, I’d have fought like hell to get people out of there.”

“Did you know any of those poor folks who died in the fire?” Beau asks.

Ken’s eyes fill with sadness. “Yeah, most of them. Peter was the head bartender, great guy. I’ll tell you, I was shocked when I first found out he was gay. I was a right wanker back then, had a lot of idiotic notions about how gay men must all be effeminate and like to wear women’s clothing. Peter was a real man’s man, if you know what I mean.” He smirks. “Even in the ridiculous clothing of the era. Which, I’m sad to say, I didn’t pull off well.”

Beau giggles. “I’ve seen some pictures of the era’s fashion. It was quite something to behold!”

Ken eyes Beau’s own attire with obvious amusement but doesn’t say anything.

“Can you tell us more about Peter? You’ve mentioned him a lot, and he sounds like an important figure for our research,” I say.