Death Comes to Main Street (The Paul Monroe Mysteries Book 3)

by Felice Stevens

  “I’m so sorry. This is so awful. Shelby was a great guy. I know you were close.”

  His head resting on Cliff’s shoulder, Ryan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. None of it does.”

  It would, but Cliff knew it wasn’t the time to talk about it. “Do you know when the funeral is?”

  “She won’t tell me anything. She left the hospital and told me to stay away, forget I ever knew Shelby, that I’d done enough damage to their family.” His shoulders shook. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  “Of course not. You were having a night out with your boyfriend, and a terrible tragedy happened. I know you, Ry. You risk your life for people every day. You did everything possible to help Shelby.”

  Cliff heard footsteps running, and then Joshua skidded around the corner. “Ryan, I can’t believe this.” He raced to Ryan, and Cliff watched as he took Ryan into his arms and hugged him. Ryan held Joshua tight, clutching him around his neck.

  “It was awful.”

  “I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. What happened?”

  As Ryan relayed the story to Joshua, Cliff texted Paul, knowing he’d want to hear the news as soon as possible. He didn’t receive an answer, but knowing Paul was likely deep into the investigation, Cliff didn’t expect one.

  Joshua had his arm around Ryan, speaking softly to him, and Cliff couldn’t be more grateful to have another person there to help comfort Ryan. Time ticked away as he sat with Ryan, not wanting to leave the last place they all had a connection with Shelby.

  “Do you have to go to work? Are you going to be able to?”

  Ryan tipped his head against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. “I want to. I think, I hope, it will keep me busy and my mind off everything.”

  “I think that’s the right decision,” Cliff agreed. “And the department, I’m sure, has counselors you can speak with. You should call them when you get to the station and set up an appointment.”

  Ryan cried out, his voice rough with devastation. “I can’t believe this is happening. We were together the other night, laughing and talking about vacationing together…” He trailed off, and Joshua squeezed his shoulder.

  Damn. Hearing Ryan was planning on going away with Shelby further cemented Cliff’s belief that Ryan had been deeply invested in their relationship and might’ve even been in love with Shelby. Anger welled up inside him at the hatred that drove a twisted mind to act in such a cold, callous manner.

  “I know Paul will make sure to find out who killed Shelby.”

  “We are.”

  At the sound of Paul’s deep voice, Cliff jumped up and ran to him. “Oh God, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Without hesitation, Paul held him close, and peace soaked through Cliff, settling his rattled nerves.

  “What’s wrong?” Paul cupped his cheek.

  “He’s gone,” Cliff choked out, and Paul pulled him in tight and rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles. “He made it through the surgery, but then he had another heart attack and died sometime during the morning. Ryan found out after he came to check on him. And Shelby’s mother won’t tell Ry any of the details since they blame him.”

  “For what?”

  But Paul knew. Cliff could tell by how he stiffened.

  “They didn’t accept Shelby being gay. And the fact that he was hurt while being with his boyfriend in a gay nightclub is something they’re going to have to come to grips with. Right now, it’s easy to blame Ryan.”

  “That’s terrible. I hope Ryan knows he’s not at fault.” Because they were in public, Cliff was surprised when Paul kissed him in front of not only Ryan and Joshua, but where anyone passing by might see them. “I’m sorry. Let me speak to Ryan.” Paul left him reeling.

  To allow Paul to talk to Ryan in private, Joshua joined Cliff on the opposite side of the small, nondescript waiting room. “I’m sorry, Cliff. I know Shelby was your friend too.”

  “He was. And thanks.”

  Joshua chewed on his lip. “Paul seems like a great guy. Have you been together long?”

  “Over a year. But we’ve known each other since we were kids. And he is a great guy. The best.”

  A minute passed. “Ryan’s a great guy too.”

  Inwardly Cliff smiled. Even if Ryan, in his grief, didn’t see it, Cliff did and hoped after a while, Joshua was going to turn out to be a very important person in his best friend’s life.

  “Ryan’s the best. We’ve been friends since college.”

  Joshua hadn’t taken his eyes off Ryan and Paul talking. “I hope he gives me the chance to be there for him.”

  “Let him grieve. Shelby was the first guy Ryan got close to, and it’s going to take him some time to work through his pain.”

  Joshua’s jaw tightened. “I saw how devoted Ryan was to Shelby and how he wouldn’t leave him, no matter that his own safety was compromised. He’s a very caring person.”

  “It’s the reason why he’s a great firefighter. Ryan’s a natural-born protector and saver.”

  Ryan and Paul left their seats to cross the room to him and Joshua.

  Ryan said, “I’m going in to work, but I think you’re right, Cliff. I’ll talk to my chief. The union has an employee assistance program where I can find someone to talk to.”

  Relief poured through Cliff. “Good. I know it will help.” He caught Paul’s intense gaze. “Ready to go?”

  At Paul’s nod, he hugged Ryan. “Call me. Stop by if you want to talk. Anytime.”

  “What time do you get off shift?” Joshua asked him.

  “Around six a.m.,” Ryan said. “We do twelve-hour shifts.”

  “I’ll meet you for breakfast at the diner.”

  Uncertainty clouded Ryan’s eyes. “It’s awfully early.”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  Ryan gave Joshua a hesitant smile. “Okay, then,” he said softly.

  “You shouldn’t be alone, and I’m an early riser.”

  Cliff tugged at Paul’s hand. “Let’s go,” he murmured, needing to be alone with Paul.

  It wasn’t until after they’d said their good-byes and stood outside the hospital that Cliff began to shake. It was inconceivable to him that he’d never see Shelby again. The good-natured man had melded into their group of friends seamlessly, and his loss would leave a big hole forever.

  Paul wrapped strong arms around him. “Do you need me to drive you home?”

  “No, I’ll be okay. Meet you there?”

  Paul held him close for a minute. “Yeah.”

  Strangely enough, the drive home was filled with the questions in his head, not about Shelby’s passing, but rather about the freedom Paul showed while in the hospital by touching and kissing him. When he pulled into his driveway, Paul’s car was already there, and the light was on inside. Cliff cut the engine, and when he walked in, Paul greeted him with a glass of white wine.

  “Come sit.”

  They lay on the couch, and he rested with a deep sigh. “I’m so glad to have you here. I couldn’t go through all this by myself.”

  “You’re not ever going to have to. You know that.”

  They sipped their drinks, and when he was warm with Paul’s heat and the alcohol, Cliff said, “You know, it was really great that you came to the hospital.”

  “You were there. Where else would I be?”

  Cliff wondered if Paul knew what those words did to his heart. He posed the question running through his mind. “And you kissed me. In front of everyone.”

  Surprising him, Paul took the wineglass from him and placed it, along with his own on the table, then swung his legs to the floor, sitting up. “I have to tell you something.”

  Cliff’s heart began to pound. “Okay.”

  Instead of speaking, Paul gazed out into the room. What was going on in his mind? That damn poker face of his made it impossible to read his emotions. Was he sorry he’d moved in? Did he want to slow down?

  “I spoke to Kraft today.”

 
“About…”

  “Us.”

  “Us?” he repeated. “You mean…”

  “Yeah. I couldn’t do it anymore. Shelby hurt, all those poor people caught and trapped. That could’ve been you…us. It didn’t feel right to hide. And what was I hiding? You? Why should I? I’m damn proud of you. So I told him that I lived in the house that was shot at. With you.”

  “Paul,” he whispered. “You didn’t have to do it because of me.”

  “I didn’t. I did it for us. I don’t want you to ever think I was having second thoughts about you. If anything, I’m the one getting the better deal. I don’t ever want you to have regrets.”

  “My only regret is that it took so long to find each other. And I might have to fight you on who’s gotten the best deal.”

  The beautiful, big smile he didn’t see often enough broke over Paul’s face. “That might be fun.”

  “Seriously. How did it go? Was he really okay?”

  “Kraft?” Cliff nodded, and Paul rubbed his chin. Knowing Paul as well as he did now, Cliff saw him running through the conversation in his mind, and waited for him to gather his thoughts. “Surprisingly well. He insisted it wouldn’t affect anything. He wouldn’t allow it to.” His cheeks flushed. “H-he also said I was one of the best detectives he’s ever had.”

  Paul’s humble nature made Cliff weak at the knees, and his heart did a crazy dance. To the public, Paul presented as a stoic, in-control person, but Cliff knew the sweet, soft side Paul only allowed him to see.

  “I know that made you feel good. And he’s right.”

  “You make me feel good.” A tender kiss landed on Cliff’s lips. “And you know I am because you’ve been with so many detectives, right?”

  “No, because I only go with the best.” His smile faltered, and the pain of Shelby’s death rolled through like a tidal wave, crushing him. “I feel terrible, laughing after everything that’s happened. Shelby’s dead, and Ryan’s in so much pain and denial.”

  “Denial? About what?”

  Cliff picked up his wineglass and took a sip. “Yesterday when we spoke, I kept teasing him about his feelings for Shelby. Ryan insisted they were just good friends with benefits, but after hearing now that they were planning a vacation together…” Cliff blinked at the hot tears burning his eyes. “I’m devastated not only for Shelby losing his life, but also for Ryan, finally finding someone and losing him before they had a chance. I think he loved Shelby, but didn’t even know it. And now it’s too late, goddamn it. Those bastards took it away from them.”

  Paul took the glass away and held him tightly. “I know. I get it.”

  Cliff shook his head. “I’m just so damn angry.”

  Paul kissed him. “I am too. It’s part of what made me say to hell with hiding and go for it. Life’s too short.”

  “Speaking of angry, I had a bizarre conversation this morning.”

  “Yeah? With whom?”

  “Travis.”

  Paul stiffened, and the angular lines of his face sharpened as his eyes narrowed. Cliff was reminded of a large cat zeroing in on its prey.

  “What happened?”

  He repeated their exchange, and Paul remained silent and unmoving until he mentioned Travis’s comment about him having a “pretty ass.”

  “That’s it.”

  Faster than he’d ever seen Paul move, he stormed to the front door and flung it open. Cliff sprinted after him.

  “Paul, wait. Where are you going?”

  “He’s not going to come over here and make veiled threats to you. Not with everything going on.”

  “But it could be dangerous.”

  Paul’s smile gleamed in the semidarkness. “Don’t worry about it, baby. I won’t hurt him.” Without another word he strode outside, down the porch steps, and across the street.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Whaddya want?”

  In a stained undershirt and jeans, Wilbur stood in front of him. The stale air emanating from the house stank of smoke, grease, and dog.

  “Where’s Travis?”

  Wilbur picked at his teeth with his fingernail. “Finishing his dinner.” He belched, and Paul recoiled in disgust.

  “Tell him I want to talk to him.”

  “Who is it, Pop?”

  The big, burly figure of Travis appeared behind Wilbur, framed by a doorway leading to the back of the cramped house. His eyes grew bright, and a crafty smile tipped up his thin lips. Paul never did trust a man with thin lips.

  “Well, well. Who do we have here?”

  “I need to talk to you, Travis.”

  Wilbur stood quietly, watching them both.

  “Come on inside, Officer.”

  Not taking the bait, and with his senses on alert, Paul stepped into the house. The door slammed behind him. With a sinking feeling, he realized he didn’t have his gun or even his phone. A reckless, foolish mistake made out of the anger he allowed to take control when Cliff revealed Travis’s threatening words.

  “Have a seat.” Travis pointed to the lumpy sofa and threadbare club chair.

  Afraid he’d catch bedbugs, Paul shook his head. “I’ll stand, but you feel free.”

  Wilbur shuffled out of the room, leaving Paul with Travis, who dropped onto the sofa with a grunt.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure? I figured you’d be home, getting taken care of by your pretty boyfriend.”

  Anger flared, and Paul had to bite back snapping at Travis or wanting to wring his neck. From the lazy grin on Travis’s face, Paul knew he was being taunted. But as long as he was invited into the house, Paul would do what he could to see if Travis was, as he suspected, involved in what was happening in Thornwood Park. He sauntered into the living room, and his gaze swept over the small, crowded space.

  “What’ve you been doing lately, Travis? Let’s start with last night.”

  “Why, Officer, are you asking me out on a date? Or maybe you want a threesome?”

  “Why? Are you interested?” Paul flung out recklessly, and he watched the anger burn in Travis’s eyes.

  “I’m a real man. I like pussy.”

  “I’m asking you where you were last night.” His eyes bore into Travis’s, but the bastard didn’t flinch.

  “Home. Right here.” Acting like he hadn’t a care in the world, he yawned and stretched, and his shirt rode up on his rounded, hairy belly.

  “Oh, yeah? Anyone else here to vouch for you?”

  “Yeah, me.” Wilbur reappeared, beer cans in hand, and handed one to Travis. “I was with him.”

  “All night?” Paul directed his question to either one of them.

  “Hmm?” Travis picked up the remote and flipped on the television.

  “Pay attention when I’m questioning you, Travis, or I’ll call you down to the station.”

  “Yeah, all fucking night. I sat on my ass and watched the ball game.”

  “Is that so? Who was playing?”

  “The Braves against the Mets. Braves won, three to one. You finished?”

  “No. What do you know about the break-ins on Main Street?”

  Carefully watching him, Paul sensed a shift in the air.

  “I don’t know nothing. I’m a law-abiding citizen.” Baring his teeth, his yellowed smile gleamed feral, and Paul wished he wasn’t the kind of person who played by the rules. If ever a person deserved to have his clock cleaned, it was this guy, but he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. Practicing self-control, Paul drew in a breath.

  “You have any tattoos, Travis?”

  The man’s brows drew together, and lines of confusion furrowed his forehead. “What? Why?”

  “Just answer the question. Do you?”

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “What do they look like?”

  “You trying to get me to take off my shirt for you? Won’t your boyfriend get jealous?” Travis sneered, and Paul itched to ball his hand into a fist and punch the smirk off his face, but he congratulated himself on his remarkable restraint.


  “Don’t flatter yourself,” Paul couldn’t resist snapping at him. “I’m in the middle of a criminal investigation.” He paused. “A homicide, now. One of the men who was hurt last night died this morning.”

  Travis’s eyes widened. “I didn’t kill nobody.” The cockiness had finally vanished.

  “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  A twitch appeared in the corner of Travis’s eye, but he pulled off his T-shirt to reveal his bicep with a swirl of muddy-looking tattoos running down his forearm.

  “What about the other one?”

  Travis turned, and Paul viewed a heart with a rose and the word “Mom” in the center.

  “Okay. What about your back?”

  “Damn. You really like my body that much.”

  “Do it now,” Paul ground out. “I’m not in the mood for your pathetic jokes.”

  The smirk returned, but Travis listened and turned around, flexing his muscles and striking a pose like a body builder. “Like what you see, Officer?” he lisped in a falsetto.

  “Enough.” He’d seen what he’d come for and expected. The same Iron Cross with a grinning skull rested between Travis’s shoulder blades. “I advise you to watch the company you keep, Travis. You might be in over your head, and that’s not a place I’d want to be. We’ll be in touch.”

  Paul turned on his heel and walked to the front door, then, as if remembering something, retraced his steps to where Travis remained standing, now with a frown on his face.

  “And just so we’re clear—stay away from my house, my car, and especially Cliff. Don’t speak to him, look at him, or even think of looking at him. Got it? Good.”

  Travis opened his mouth, but Paul walked out, not giving him a chance to speak. He crossed the street and saw Cliff waiting by the front door, a worried expression marring his normally placid face.

  “What—”

  “Let’s go in.” Paul had no intention of having any discussion outside, where someone might overhear them.

  Paul barely had a chance to cross the threshold before Cliff began peppering him with questions. “What did you do? Did you talk to Travis? Did he say anything?”