Fish on a Bicycle

by Amy Lane

  “Lance,” Henry supplied, half-guiltily.

  “The med student?” Jackson asked in surprise.

  Henry nodded. “I…. Fuck. I’m….”

  “Not obligated to talk about it now,” Ellery said smoothly, putting his laptop away and standing up. “So Jackson and I will be at the office at nine tomorrow. Call us before you come pick Jackson up. I understand he has more interviews to do.”

  “Tomorrow’s Wednesday,” Henry said blankly, as though just realizing the world kept turning.

  “Which means if we want to get a jump on the police, now’s our chance.” Ellery had hoped for Jackson’s help at this phase, but he understood. And having Henry shuttle Jackson around would help them bypass the parking problem Jackson had so correctly predicted—without making him unlock the trunk for the goddamned skateboard.

  Jackson shrugged. “We’re really trying to get the office ready for next week,” he explained. “It’s….” Ellery saw the moment of softness in his jaw, the way his eyes lightened fractionally. “It’s really Ellery’s baby.”

  Ellery wanted to argue that Jackson had worked just as hard if not harder. Jackson had looked up property on property before calling a Realtor, and had run background checks on the Realtors as well. He’d painted the entire office suite, including the doorframe outside, and had collaborated with Jade for a wish list, a need list, and a “when we make our first million” list for the office.

  He’d even picked out artwork for the walls.

  But the fact that Jackson thought it was Ellery’s baby, and was doing all that work for Ellery? That was as close as this man was ever going to get to a grand romantic gesture. Of course, on Valentine’s Day, they’d both been recovering from their wounds and from the drive from down south to Sacramento. Jackson had made them soup and salad and made sure they’d both had their pain pills—it was as romantic as either of them could manage at the time. Ellery was perfectly aware that when the time came for a marriage proposal, he was completely in charge of delivery and execution, and even making sure the proposal was accepted when Jackson’s lizard brain pushed him to run.

  For a man who would work side by side with Ellery to build his dream, Ellery could do no less.

  “I’ll be there at ten,” Henry said. He grimaced. “I…. God. I need to stop by my brother’s house and talk to him.” He swallowed. “I hope Kane doesn’t pound me into the floor first.”

  “You look pretty pathetic,” Jackson told him, cheering up. “Run with that.”

  “And fuck you back.” Henry flipped him the bird and left, leaving Jackson and Ellery to say their goodbyes to Toby.

  “When are we getting together for dinner again?” Jackson asked, grinning.

  “I don’t know—when are you asking me?” Toby grinned back. “I understand somebody has a yard with a pool!”

  “A pool that didn’t get nearly enough of a workout last year,” Ellery said smoothly. “We should have people over in a couple of weeks. Sort of a celebrate the business thing.”

  “We should?” Jackson asked, looking surprised.

  “Yes, Jackson. We should.”

  “Can I invite a few porn stars?”

  Ellery blinked, but it appeared Jackson was completely serious. “As long as the trunks stay on during the party, I don’t see why not. Galen and his significant other?”

  Jackson grimaced. “Sure. They’re nice. But Reg—Henry’s witness? He’s… well, he needs friends. I told him I’d be one.”

  “Sure. He can come too.” Ellery started to put the guest list together in his head. AJ and Jade, Jade’s boyfriend, Mike, AJ’s friend, Jael, Toby, his family—

  “I’ll call you later with details,” Jackson was saying to Toby. “But don’t forget to let me know when you get the tox screens, deal?”

  “Deal.”

  They left, and Jackson took a right when Ellery would have taken a left. “Where are we going now? The car’s out here!”

  “Yeah, but I want to talk to Dave and Alex before we leave.” Jackson was scowling, his eyes intent on a far point in space, even as he navigated the corridors of the mostly empty basement.

  “Why? We can call them.” Jackson had been putting up a good front, but Ellery could see the strain around his eyes and the faint pulsing of his jaw as he ground his teeth. “Aren’t you ready to go home?”

  “I’ve been ready for a while,” Jackson said with a humorless laugh. “But I’ve got….” He rubbed his stomach over the scrubs he’d kept on.

  “Indigestion? Did you eat?”

  “Yes, Counselor, I ate. Did you?”

  “Yes.” Ellery sniffed, offended. Jackson was the one who could pretty much wake up and go until midnight and then had to raid the fridge because he’d forgotten to eat. He might never know it, but those were the times Ellery was closest to breaking up with him. He’d claim he’d forgotten to eat. Fucking bullshit. Who did that? “But if you didn’t forget to eat, what’s the problem?”

  “It’s a hunch,” Jackson said, clearly uncomfortable. “Look, I’ve just got to go with my gut… you know? I’ve followed hunches before. You’ve seen me. I’ve got one here.”

  “Oh.” Ellery tilted his head. “Yes, you follow them. But you don’t usually bring me along. This will be an adventure. Excellent!”

  Jackson turned to look at him, almost running into the corner of the corridor where it turned. “You’re insane,” he announced before striding to the elevator.

  “I must be,” Ellery murmured to himself. “You get sexier with every goddamned bruise.”

  Jackson’s eyes widened just as the elevator doors opened. Ellery put his hand on the small of Jackson’s back and guided him in.

  Old Friends, New Vices

  WHEN JACKSON had been incarcerated—erm, recovering—at UCD Med Center the first time, he’d noticed that Dave, the handsome tall nurse with the pale brown skin, round face, and scalp-trimmed hair who gave Jackson his twelve-o’clock meds, seemed to time his breaks with Alex, the tiny, perky blond nurse who checked Jackson’s vitals at three. It didn’t take a genius to see the way they looked at each other and know they were probably banging like a drunk drummer on their breaks. Or that, in fact, Dave’s old SUV held a place of romantic honor for both of them.

  By now they’d been living together for ten years, and their sexual exploits were numerous and probably exaggerated, but their affection for each other—and for Jackson—was wholly 100 percent authentic.

  And since Jackson hadn’t been compelled to stay in the hospital for the last six months, they were even more excited to see him.

  “Oh my God, look at this!” Dave wielded his cigarette like a conductor’s baton. “This young man is here, voluntarily, with no blood in sight!”

  Alex had switched to e-cigs in the last year, and he took a long puff. “Shocked, I am—shocked! When was the last time we saw you, like, four months ago, to check to make sure your stitches had all dissolved?”

  “Late February,” Jackson agreed. “Good times. God, you guys, you couldn’t smoke in a kiddie pool or something? This place hasn’t gotten any more comfortable in the last few years.”

  They indulged in their filthy habit in a little-used exit beyond the parking garage, where the sun hit in the late afternoon as if it was trying to cook them all like flounder.

  “Well, we’re holding out for the Lido deck, darling, but you know it’s all booked up.” Dave took a drag movie star style, and Jackson laughed.

  “We’ll have to get you a misting hose or something,” he said sincerely.

  “So, what do you need from us, baby,” Dave asked, ever the leader between the two of them.

  “Well, we were going to invite you to a pool-dinner thing,” Jackson said, checking with Ellery as he said it. Ellery nodded, looking like that had been his intention all along, and Jackson plowed ahead. “We’ll call you with particulars later,” he said. “Sometime in the next two weeks—sort of to celebrate Ellery’s new office, right?”

&n
bsp; Alex grinned. “Fantastic! Wait, are we, like, the only ones besides Jade and Mike who will be there?”

  Jackson snorted. “No. We’ve hired actors to pretend to be our friends, just to take away the awkwardness.”

  “Fantastic.” Alex turned his cig off and tucked it in his pocket. “I’ll bring the good shitty wine. So, I know that’s not all. You always ask the most interesting questions, doesn’t he, Dave? I mean, when our car’s not catching on fire, you’re pretty entertaining.”

  “That’s a big if, sweetie,” Dave said, both of them sharing a moment to mourn the car that had gotten blown up in one of Jackson’s prior cases. “But yes.” He snubbed his cigarette out in the sand top of a nearby trash can and pulled out some hand sanitizer. “Lay it on us, sweet stuff. We’ve got five minutes before we have to report to Nurse Ratched, who hates our gay asses with a passion.”

  “That woman doesn’t do anything with a passion,” Alex said sourly. “But whatsisface’s kid was killed, and I guess she can’t suck his dick when he’s grieving, so yeah. Not a fun day.”

  “Robert Sampson has a mistress?” Jackson asked, not surprised, exactly. But usually a detective had to do a little digging before things like that fell into his lap.

  “I’m not sure if they’re knocking boots, because eww.” Dave shuddered. “It’s like looking at the mating habits of moray eels. Just why? But she sure does have her head far enough up his ass to polish his rims and wax his balls for good measure.”

  “Moray eels to classic cars and everybody’s having gross sex,” Ellery murmured unhappily.

  Jackson flashed him an amused look but kept talking to his guys, because this—this was interesting. “So, Nurse Ratched’s real name would be…?”

  “Summer. Summer Frasier. She’s a piece of work. She hates men. I mean, hates men. Gay, straight, purple—it doesn’t matter. I’ve watched her ignore pain med requests because she thinks a guy is whining too much.” Dave shuddered again, but Alex just snickered.

  “What?” Dave arched an eyebrow at the love of his life. “Why is that funny?”

  “Because I know something you don’t know,” he said smugly.

  The corners of Dave’s full mouth folded in, as if he was keeping the wicked secret that was Alex to himself. “Highly unlikely.”

  “Nope. Highly likely.” Alex pulled out his phone and showed Dave two pictures.

  Dave’s eyes grew big and all of his playfulness evaporated. “What the hell?”

  “Can we share with the class?” Jackson asked. Sweat was starting to saturate the back of his scrubs.

  “Baby, this is serious. What were you going to do with this?” Dave’s concern was almost cold water on the four of them.

  “Well, I was going to share them with you later tonight,” Alex confessed. “But Jackson showed interest. And remember what happened the last time we tried to keep paperwork?”

  “I do. Our car blew up. So you’re going to keep it on your phone?” Dave’s voice rose, and Jackson held out his hand.

  “What?” But Alex trusted him so he handed it over.

  Jackson sent the two photos to his phone, to Ellery’s, and to Jade’s, before deleting them from Alex’s phone.

  “Our entire law firm has those now,” he said soberly. “But you don’t.” He handed the phone back. “Now explain what they are.”

  “Thanks, Jackson,” Dave said, shuddering. The look he sent Alex was pleading. “Baby, you know—”

  “I do!” Alex looked at Jackson and sighed. “They were the same drug order,” he said. “You can tell. We pull up the documents on our tablets now, and they’re numbered. Even on the tablet. So this had the same number, it was for the same patient, for the same time and the same date. The first one was right after the doctor sent it. The second one was right after Nurse Fucking Ratched fucked with it and made a copy.”

  Jackson’s eyebrows went up. “Why would she do that?”

  Alex shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s using? She’s selling? The doctor was drunk? It was Sheideman, and we all know how much he sucks, so take your pick. All I’m saying is that it was hinky, and I don’t want any part of it. I was thinking of taking it to my union lawyer, but….” He grimaced.

  “That would be her brother-in-law,” Dave said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Gah! This is bad. I don’t want any part of it!”

  “What kind of pills did she mess with?” Jackson asked, his antennae perking up.

  “Oxy,” Alex said. “Oh-so-sellable oxy.”

  “How often would you have to do something like that?” Jackson pondered. “To have a business? How many pills would you need to score for something like that?”

  “More than this,” Dave said, grimacing. “But if she’s doing it a lot and if it’s giving her access to the drugs all the time, it’s a start. But it’s definitely not to use. A little oxy might make her bearable to work with. Not safe for other people, no, but fucking bearable.”

  “So, uptight?”

  “Anal retentive, controlling, power-tripping—” Dave categorized, until Alex interrupted.

  “She’s just fuckin’ mean!”

  He and Dave both grimaced.

  “And we don’t want to be on the bad side of that, do we, baby?” Dave murmured. “C’mon.”

  “You guys call me later?” Jackson said, and then remembered they all had lives. “Tomorrow. Call me tomorrow.”

  Alex flashed him a brilliant smile. “Good move, Jackson. We all got better things to do after shift!”

  Dave’s look was more troubled, but Jackson wasn’t fooled. Alex was smart, and in spite of his perky-adorable-look-at-me-ness, he was also aware of the world around him. After their car had been destroyed, neither of them was talking about what had just happened with anybody but Jackson and Ellery.

  “Air-conditioning now?” Ellery asked, and Jackson nodded. It might have been full daylight, but it was also seven o’clock. It had been a long damned day.

  “Can we check the parking lot on the way home?”

  “AJ already got the thumb drive—”

  “Yeah, we can look at that later. I just want to get a look at the layout. We don’t even have to go in. There’s stuff you can’t see from a fish-eye lens.”

  Ellery grunted. “That should be a metaphor for something.”

  Jackson eyed him to make sure he wasn’t mad. “Like…?”

  “I don’t know,” Ellery replied mildly. “I’m working on it. Poetry isn’t my strong suit.”

  Jackson shrugged and waited for Ellery to press the button for the elevator. “This I knew.” Ellery still looked crisp and professional, even at seven o’clock on a 105-degree day, while Jackson felt like ten miles of shitty road. “Up for a swim after we get home?”

  “Dinner?” Ellery complained. “Some of us need food to survive.”

  “You eat, I’ll swim.”

  Ellery grunted. “No. You swim, I’ll put something together. God, you’d seriously skip dinner if you could, wouldn’t you?”

  Jackson not eating was a point of contention between them. He’d gotten better since February, but sometimes, when things were eating at him, Jackson just couldn’t eat.

  “Morgue,” he said briefly, because he’d been fine until after lunch. But it wasn’t just the morgue. It was also the hospital and Henry, although Henry was slightly less of a weight on his chest than the other two.

  “Yeah, well, fuck the morgue. Fuck the hospital. We’ll check out the goddamned parking lot tomorrow before work and you can swim when we get home. Jesus Christ, Jackson—balance. Is it so much to ask?”

  “We can drive by the parking lot on the way home,” Jackson said, feeling the urgency building. “It’s Tuesday, Ellery. The cops will bring him in Thursday or Monday—who wants to put money on Monday?”

  Jackson wouldn’t. You had a guy living with a bunch of porn stars accused of killing the son of a prominent citizen. Besides being juicy, it was also, they probably figured, a slam dunk. Wednesday or Thursda
y. They’d bring Henry in on Wednesday or Thursday, and if Ellery wasn’t on his game and fully prepared, Henry would be spending a really uncomfortable, wholly unnecessary weekend in a place where one misplaced bout of temper could give him permanent scars.

  Ellery’s grunt told Jackson that he’d won, and the elevator door opened, beckoning them inside the sweaty maw of death. They both eyeballed the fetid, swampy little space before Ellery backed up and let the doors close. “Fourth floor,” he said, heading for the stairs. “I’ll drive us to the apartment complex, but you’re right—we’re not getting out.”

  “See, compromise.”

  The freedom of the walk up the stairs made it seem like it was only 101 instead of 105. Ah, choices.

  THE SWIM felt amazing—Jackson could have done laps for hours, but Ellery turned the lights off in the pool after thirty minutes. Jackson pulled himself out and saw green salads with chicken breasts on the patio table, complete with napkins and silverware—and Ellery, who had showered before bringing everything out, apparently, and was wearing some sort of linen leisure pant and an expensive T-shirt.

  Jackson wrapped a towel around his shoulders and looked down at his board shorts, which were so old the elastic was going out around the crotch net. Self-consciously he adjusted himself, wincing when the disintegrating rubber pulled at his pubes.

  “This is nice,” he said simply, scrubbing at his face. “Should I go in and put on a—”

  Ellery held out one of his older, much laundered T’s.

  “Thanks,” he said, sliding it over his head. “I didn’t expect fancy.”

  “You would have been happy with nothing,” Ellery told him. “I know it. Now sit down and eat like a human. Also, throw those shorts away.”

  “I’m not swimming naked!” Jackson protested.

  “Not that I’d mind, but there should be two pairs on their way by mail. God, I can’t believe it took me this long to order them. Those are so transparent I can pretty much see your entire package.”