Hunter and Morgan: Gatecrasher

by H. K. Nightingale

  "You have a kettle?" said Detective Shaw. Or Jess. What was he supposed to call her?

  "Yes, I have a kettle," said Hunter. "I had a new kitchen put in and everything. You'd be amazed at what a functional adult can achieve when liberated from the restrictions of institutional bureaucracy."

  "Tea?" said Morgan. "Coffee? I think there's some hot chocolate."

  "No, thanks."

  "I'll have a tea if you're making one," said Sahil. Either he didn't see the disapproving look Jess gave him or he'd learned to ignore it. Morgan went into the little kitchen, keeping an ear out for what was going on in the office. Sahil followed him. Hunter was complaining that she hadn't given him any warning, and then she asked if he had anything to hide, to which Hunter retorted that no, he didn't have anything to hide but he didn't have enough chairs for them either.

  "She seems a bit put out," said Morgan. He topped up the kettle and turned it on.

  Sahil visibly relaxed and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "It's been a rough morning."

  "Herbal or regular tea? I've got salted caramel green tea, blackcurrant, chamomile, ginseng and vanilla, Yorkshire or Taylors breakfast."

  "That's… Extensive," Sahil observed.

  "I'm a big fan of tea."

  "Yeah. Uh, Yorkshire, please. Milk, no sugar. My wife's got a thing about sugar at the moment. She watches too many documentaries, you know?"

  Voices in the office were getting raised. Words like 'repressed bitch' and 'pretentious twat' were being thrown about in a most unprofessional manner.

  "She's under a lot of pressure. Our boss is a bit of a wanker. And then there's the whole sibling rivalry thing they have going on," said Sahil, with a little nod. "To be honest, I had enough of that when I was a kid."

  "Do you come from a big family?"

  "Five of us. Three boys, two girls. I was in the middle. Learned to keep my mouth shut and my eyes open." His eyes sparkled when he smiled. Morgan liked him.

  The kettle boiled and he made Sahil's tea. Back in the office, Jess and Hunter stopped talking as soon as they came in, glaring at each other instead.

  "Are you sure I can't get you anything?" Morgan said to Jess.

  "No. Thank you. I think we'd better get on with it."

  "I wish you would," said Hunter.

  Sahil and Morgan exchanged a look.

  "You can probably guess why I'm here," Jess said.

  "To make my life a misery?"

  "For fuck's sake, Hunter, will you grow up and act like a professional for once in your life?"

  "If you–"

  "It's about Reginald, right?" said Morgan. "Have you found out what happened?"

  "I need information about drugs."

  Hunter folded his arms across his chest. "And you think I can give you that information why, exactly?"

  "What sort of drugs?" Morgan asked. He was aware of Hunter's eyes boring into him, no doubt less than pleased with him for getting in the way of his pathetic fraternal put downs. But Morgan didn't much care. He'd found out enough about Reginald Klyne that he genuinely wanted to know what had happened to the poor guy.

  "Recreational. Is there anything new on the market that you've come across lately?"

  "I don't do drugs," said Hunter, smugly. "That was your speciality."

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence, broken only when Sahil slurped his tea.

  Jess pulled herself up to her full height. She was wearing a tailored suit with flat pumps, practical but stylish, but she was still tall, easily passing Hunter's five foot ten-or-so and nearly up to Morgan's six foot one. Her colouring was different from Hunter's: dark hair, hazel eyes, skin very pale where Hunter's was golden. But they both had killer cheekbones, broad shoulders and a glare that could kill at twenty paces.

  "Very well," Jess said, her eyes narrowed. "I'll inform the department that I won't be requiring your services on this case any further. Clearly you're more suited to fraud."

  She turned on her heel and stormed out of the office while the rest of them watched. A moment later came a yell of, "Goswami! Now!"

  Sahil pressed his mug into Morgan's hand with a regretful look. Morgan followed him to the door to see him out. Sahil hesitated on the threshold, then turned to Morgan and whispered, "Don't mind Jess. She's not usually like this, it's just they bring out the worst in each other, I think. I'll text you later. We'll talk."

  Morgan nodded and closed the door behind him. He went and put Sahil's mug in the kitchen.

  "What?" said Hunter, following him.

  "What do you mean, 'what?"

  "Honestly, Morgan, I can feel your disapproval from here. We don't need her. We have plenty of clients."

  "It's your business," said Morgan, holding up his hands. "If you want to give up on poor old Reginald, that's up to you."

  "I do. And it is. Thank you for noticing."

  Morgan poured his cold tea down the sink, rinsed out his mug and put the kettle on to make another one.

  "D'you want more coffee?"

  Hunter fetched his own mug and set it down next to Morgan's. "Maybe I do care a bit about poor old Reginald," he admitted.

  "Mmm?"

  "It's just I always see red when Jess is around." He scrubbed a hand across his eyes. "Christ, that was awful. I was horribly unprofessional, wasn't I?"

  "Li'l bit."

  "Shit."

  "It's okay. Let me talk to Sahil."

  "Thanks. It's just…"

  Morgan let the quiet hang there. He wasn't about to force Hunter to say anything he didn't want to. However curious he was.

  "I don't want you to think I'm normally like that." Hunter picked at a bit of blu tac that had been abandoned on the wall. Probably by the previous owner; Morgan couldn't imagine Hunter sticking anything on the walls. He looked kind of lost, his intense gaze fixed on the wall and the blu tac, which dropped off along with a little chunk of paint. Morgan touched his hand. Hunter made a sort of grunting noise and meshed his fingers between Morgan's.

  "I hope we're still on for tonight," said Morgan.

  "Really?" There was a sulky edge to Hunter's voice, like he was a little kid who'd just got told off. "You'd go on a date with a moron who puts his own family issues above finding out why a gambling addict killed himself?"

  "Just this once," said Morgan.

  Hunter gave him a pouty little smile, and seriously, Morgan was in way too deep if he found it this cute.

  He did find it cute, though.

  Sahil rang later that morning and Morgan arranged to meet him in the park at lunchtime. They found a secluded bench by a rose bed to sit and eat. They'd bought sandwiches from the café near the entrance; it wasn't exactly up to Hunter's standards of venue for entertaining clients, but it was secluded enough that they could talk freely without being overheard.

  "Are they always like that?" Morgan asked. "Hunter and Jess, I mean."

  "Well, I'd never met Mr Hunter before the other day," Sahil said. "But I get the impression they had a big falling out a while ago. Families, eh?"

  "Hm," said Morgan. He got along very well with his mother, providing he wasn't burning down warehouses, and he barely remembered his absent father. His uncle and cousins were okay. They didn't go in for big dramas. "So, what did you want our help with?"

  "We got the lab reports back on Reggie Klyne, and it wasn't what we thought. The initial assessment was death by suicide."

  Morgan nodded. The hairs on the back of his neck went up at the thought of what Sahil might be about to say.

  "He had a lot of alcohol and drugs in his system. Overdose, we thought, or possibly misadventure. But then the full analysis came back, and the drugs in his system weren't normal drugs. They were infused with some kind of magic."

  Morgan's mind went straight to Caleb. Shit. He swallowed down panic and said, "You think that's what killed him?"

  "Not directly, no. What we wanted to know was whether there was any history of him interacting with majos. Maybe he was dealing, to
pay off debts? Or could he have taken the drugs to improve his success at gambling?"

  People were so woefully ignorant of majos it hurt sometimes. Even good guys like Sahil. They believed whatever the media told them and didn't think to ask questions. He had an opportunity to sort that out right here and now, of course. He could say, 'well, Sahil, speaking as a very powerful majos myself, that's bullshit.'

  What he actually said was, "I'm pretty sure they can't do that. Otherwise the bookies would be up in arms. And broke. Or refusing to let people gamble if they think they're under the influence. Majos isn't the same as precognition, or mind reading, or anything like that."

  "Right. So this was just Reggie taking drugs for shits and giggles, then."

  "Or to feel better. He can't have been happy with the debts and the gambling addiction. I've heard that drugs like that can alter mood quite dramatically."

  "He certainly seemed to be having a good time just before he died. As well as the drink and magic drugs there was evidence of sexual activity. He had a hell of a last night."

  Sex, drugs and rock'n'roll? It didn't sound like Reginald-Klyne-the-loner as Morgan had come to know him. Maybe that aubergine emoji had meant something after all. "Where was he found?"

  "Horsforth. His body was found in Old Mill Beck. First guess was accidental death, thought he'd got drunk, fallen in and drowned. But he didn't die at the scene, so we've started to look at murder."

  "What did he actually die of?"

  Sahil hesitated, and Morgan wondered whether he'd taken a step too far. But then Sahil said, "Cardiac arrest. But with no known cause. He was surprisingly healthy for a man of his age. Liver was a bit under the weather, but nothing serious. Low cholesterol, healthy heart and lungs. Which is what led us to the drug angle; we were expecting evidence of coke, maybe meth or MDMA. But all he had in his blood was the magic pixie dust."

  Why did everything keep coming back to fucking Essence? Morgan was going to use every bit of Reginald's terrible fate to scare Caleb off them, that's for sure.

  "He had good reason to kill himself, either directly or by taking unnecessary risks," Morgan said. "Truly horrible debts, and he didn't seem capable of not gambling. Just kept on and on, even when he'd lost pretty much everything."

  "Addictions tend to cluster up in some people. Poor guy."

  "Yeah."

  "I could really use a close up with the drugs, though."

  "They're very hard to find. So I'd heard, anyway."

  "Yeah, I know. It's frustrating."

  Morgan chewed on the last of his sandwich, thinking hard. He wanted to help. He really did. But it was hard to think of a way to do so without incriminating himself in a way that could easily get back to Hunter. "So, what are you going to tell Jess? About sneaking out to see me, I mean."

  Sahil shrugged. "The truth, maybe? She won't be pissed off if I bring back evidence. I think she's pretty ashamed about the way she behaved, truth be told. She's usually painfully professional."

  "That sounds familiar."

  "Well, everyone know the sidekicks gets the real work done, right?"

  Sahil put his hand up for a high five and Morgan amiably smacked palms with him.

  Is that what he was now? Hunter's sidekick?

  Sahil's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. "I have to go," he said. "Call me if you think of anything, okay? Glad to be working with you, Morgan."

  "Me too," said Morgan.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Morgan waited until he and Hunter were actually on the train before he messaged Caleb. He'd packed a toothbrush and a few other things (including his magic book, just in case). He'd nearly packed condoms and lube, put them in and taken them out of his bag a dozen times, before finally convincing himself that Hunter would have some at his place, and if he didn't, well, maybe that meant he wanted to take it slow and of course Morgan would respect that. He didn't want to tempt fate, not when things were so new and anyway, Hunter could be called off on a case at a moment's notice.

  Once they'd pulled out of Leeds station for York, though, at around the time he'd usually be getting home, Morgan decided to bite the bullet. He took out his phone and dialled, aware that Hunter was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

  Caleb picked up straight away with a 'yo', and Morgan realised he'd been hoping it would go to voicemail.

  "Hi," he said.

  "'Sup?" asked Caleb, popping the 'p'.

  "I'm, um, going to York for the night. I might be, um…" He dropped his voice. "…back late." And then added, wishing he'd taken this call to a different part of the train, or maybe just sent a bloody text, "Or not. Tonight. Home. Um."

  "Well, well. My boy's all grown up."

  "I mean, I might be."

  Hunter shook his head. Possibly at whatever he was reading on his phone. Possibly not.

  "Have a lovely time, sweet boy," said Caleb. "Be safe and remember to say thank you for having you."

  "I will not be saying anything of the sort, Caleb, just… No. Are you okay?"

  "Never better."

  "Are you going out?"

  "I have a boxed set of something outrageously sinister on Netflix to watch. Sorry you'll miss it."

  "I'm not. Well, okay then. I'll see you, um, later."

  "If you're not back in a week I'll start watering your plants."

  "That won't be necessary."

  "Ciao, darling. Give Hunter a big sloppy blow job from–"

  Morgan hung up and stared out of the train window, biting his lip. Bloody Caleb.

  "Look at this," Hunter said, shoving his phone under Morgan's nose. "Isn't that the cutest thing you saw?"

  Morgan looked. On the screen a puppy climbed into a cardboard box, ran about until the box fell over, then ran about some more and rammed it into a skinny pair of guy-legs.

  It was pretty cute.

  "Reminds me of someone," said Morgan.

  York was always beautiful, but on that evening the city surpassed itself. The sunshine made the old stone glow. The streets were alive with cafes and pubs, music and laughter spilling out. The restaurant was busy, but once again Hunter clearly got on well with the staff, and they ended up at a table in a quiet alcove, where the chatter and clatter of plates was a soft background noise rather than an intrusion. There was a whole column of vegetarian choices for each course on the menu. Hunter was going to order wine, but when Morgan said he didn't drink, he ordered them both non-alcoholic cocktails, which had strawberries in and just a hint of pepper. He didn't ask Morgan why he didn't drink.

  A busker outside started playing Spanish guitar as their food arrived. It was all so perfect Morgan got really anxious that it would crash around his ears any minute.

  "I wanted to say thank you for today," Hunter said.

  "For cleaning the coffee grounds out of the machine?"

  "For making sure my infantile behaviour didn't affect the business."

  "Jess hasn't cancelled your contract, you know."

  "I suspected she wouldn't. How would she explain it to her superiors? 'I can't possibly work with my brother because he's a dick?'"

  Morgan swallowed a delicious mouthful of melted cheese and flaky pastry and said, "What happened with Jess? Or has it always been like that?"

  Hunter frowned, and for a moment Morgan thought he wouldn't answer. But then he said, "No. We haven't always been like that. To be honest, I don't think I'd have got through school without her. I'm the older one, sure, the big brother - but you'd never have guessed it. I used to get so homesick, so pissed off with all the circle time and the co-operative games and the ridiculous student-led assignments."

  "It seems funny that a kid wouldn't like all that freedom."

  "Not at all. Kids thrive on boundaries. Jess and I had been brought up by our Dad for as long as we could remember, and he never really knew what to do with us. We were both crying out for a bit of, not discipline, more… Guidance. Just a good solid example of what we were supposed to do. And then, to top i
t off, I hit puberty and realised I was gay."

  "Was it a surprise?" Morgan couldn't remember a time when he didn't know. There were so many things that were different about him as a kid that it barely registered on the weirdness scale.

  "Not really. I think I was in denial, maybe? And then one day when we were building a free-climbing course in the gym I found myself staring at Nigel Branwell-Harding's arse."

  "And what did Nigel Branwell-Harding think about that?"

  "Funnily enough, he quite appreciated it," said Hunter with a little grin.

  "Did he, now?"

  "We ended up sucking each other off in the toilets a couple of hours later. Which was lovely, except his brother saw us leave hand in hand, no doubt dishevelled and dreamy-eyed."

  "Oh God! Did he say anything?"

  Hunter's eyes narrowed. "Not to us, but he told his best friend, who told someone else, who told someone… And then at circle time the next day our prefect-of-the-week saw fit to announce it. To everyone. I got three cheers and the biggest piece of cake at break time."

  "Really? That's so cool."

  "Not when you're a pimply fourteen year old who doesn't want anyone to look at you, never mind publicly celebrate your sexuality."

  "I can't imagine you with pimples."

  "Good."

  "Seriously, though, at least you didn't get bullied about it."

  "Worse. My sister was disappointed."

  "That you were gay?"

  "That I didn't tell her first. To be honest, I was, too. I would have rather. She understood, though, when I'd explained. She was amazing that way."

  "So, how did it go wrong?"

  "Little things, at first. Joining the police was great. I could finally be my structured, methodical, logical self. Just… normal. Painfully normal, even. But it was tough when Jess came along and got promotion over me just because of her degree, when I'd been slogging at it for three years as a lowly community constable. It was as if all that competitive spirit we'd been squashing all those years at school just burst out. We were both desperate to be the best at everything. It probably made us better coppers, in the end. But I hated it. And then she had Liam."