Red Rover, Perdition Games

by L E Fraser

  “Come now, you sound paranoid.” Roger chuckled. “Nothing is going on. It’s a beautiful day and I wanted to get to know you.” He sipped from his coffee cup and winced. “Cold. Perhaps it’s time for a beer. Shall we partake and get to know each other?”

  “You said on the phone that you might need a PI someday,” Reece said. “You want to tell me why?”

  Did Roger’s face pale? Reece wasn’t sure, but something changed in the man’s demeanour. Roger stood abruptly and fussed with a potted tulip plant on the table. His movements were flustered, but he’d lowered his head and Reece couldn’t see his expression.

  “It was a figure of speech,” he said, without meeting Reece’s eyes.

  “Why am I here, Roger?” Reece didn’t care that he sounded confrontational now. He couldn’t tolerate lies and hated hypocrisy. Roger had some reason for inviting him, and Reece wanted to know what it was.

  Wide eyes filled with earnestness met his steely gaze. “Well, I assumed you could assist. I’m afraid I’m more suited to intellectual pursuits.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost noon. Shall we grab a beer and grill those steaks? It would be sacrilege to waste Wagyu beef. I don’t suppose you’ve ever tried it.”

  By his expression and tone, it was clear he thought a man’s man ate squirrels and roadkill.

  Reece walked across the deck to the back gate. “Thanks for the invitation, but I’m not staying.”

  Roger followed him. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve offended you. It wasn’t my intention. I really do want to get to know you. Sam and I have been close friends since childhood. Please stay. You can initiate the grill and enlighten me on your gastronomic opinion.”

  Reece eyed the barbecue. He was itching to discover if it was worth the money. Those steaks had looked damn good, too.

  “Please stay and we’ll give this another try.” Roger held out his hand.

  It would be petty not to accept the apology. Might as well enjoy the luxury grill and the food. With a sigh, he shook Roger’s hand. “Sure. What can I do to help?”

  “How about you deal with the mushrooms you brought?” Roger suggested and went into the kitchen.

  Unable to shake the feeling he had accepted the Judas kiss, Reece reluctantly followed.

  Over the next half hour, they cooked and kept the conversation light. In spite of himself, Reece began to have fun. The man was brilliant, and Reece found his work in recovery interesting. The craft beers Roger had stocked were delicious, and he told Reece about some independent breweries around the Greater Toronto Area that offered tours.

  Outside, the afternoon sun felt like June rather than early May, and the grill lived up to its reputation. Controlling the heat to get the proper char was easy and being able to transfer the meat to a reduced heat zone to obtain the perfect medium rare temperature was handy.

  Roger set the outdoor table while Reece tented the steaks. As the meat rested, Roger grilled Romaine hearts for Caesar salad, and Reece finished the wild mushroom crostini with imported goat cheese. The food was fantastic, the day was beautiful, and Reece felt satisfied with his decision to stay.

  The sun was hot, and Roger swiped his hair off his forehead, holding long bangs flat against the crown of his head. With his hairline exposed, Reece noticed a bandage over an ugly bruise.

  “Ouch, what did you do to yourself?” he asked.

  Roger looked startled and dropped his hand. He ran his fingers through the longish sweep of hair that covered the left side of his forehead. It fell into a perfect wave that Reece immediately suspected resulted from a curling iron.

  “Nothing. I mean, just bumped my head getting out of a friend’s car. No big deal. Let’s get the table cleared and grab another beer.”

  Hitting his head might explain the cut on his forehead, but Reece had also noticed a nasty scrape on his elbow. The man clearly didn’t want to talk about it, and it wasn’t any of his business so Reece dropped it. He collected his plate and utensils from the table and followed Roger into the kitchen.

  After they cleared the table and tidied the kitchen, they returned to the patio.

  Reece was examining the labels of the craft beers that remained in the outside fridge when Roger asked, “If there’s a home accident involving death, are police involved?”

  Reece straightened, holding a bottle of coffee-flavoured ale in his hand. “Sure. Any time there’s an unexpected death, police investigate.” He took the bottle to the table and sat. “Did someone you know die?”

  Roger shook his head. “No, I’m just curious. Sometimes I treat patients with severe survival guilt, you know, when there’s a fatal accident. How intensely do the authorities investigate a home mishap?”

  “They’re very thorough. You’d be surprised how many accidents turn out to be something more nefarious.”

  Roger played with a teaspoon and chewed his lower lip. “Before that mess in Uthisca, how many murders did you investigate with the OPP?”

  Canada had few serial killers and mass murders. After what had happened at Bueton Sanctuary two years ago, people frequently asked him similar questions. Roger didn’t strike Reece as the type of person who would have such a macabre curiosity though.

  “More than I care to remember,” he replied obliquely and looked around for the bottle opener.

  “So you have experience with police procedures in murder cases?”

  Reece frowned. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

  Roger dropped his eyes and picked a piece of lint off his slacks. “Just making conversation.” He stood, walked to the back gate, and opened it. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Ah… no problem.” Reece put the unopened beer on the table and dropped the opener. He stood and met Roger at the gate. “Lunch was great. Thanks for inviting me,” he said, confused by the urgency to see him out.

  “Next time,” Roger said, “I’d prefer it if you parked on the street.”

  With that, the gate closed in his face, leaving Reece standing on the parking pad with his mouth half-open.

  Chapter Two

  Sam

  “DO I LOOK okay?” Reece asked.

  Sam was watching Better Call Saul on Netflix and she glanced at Reece, who was standing at the base of the ladder staircase that led up to the bedroom loft. His sky-blue eyes were a little wild, and he was fidgeting with his belt. It was rare for Reece to be nervous. Instead of laughing, she turned off the television and stood to face him, twirling her finger with a grin. He frowned but spun around. His ass looked marvellous in his new jeans, the black T-shirt showed off impressive abdomen and bicep definition, and he’d had his thick black hair cut in a way that tamed the cowlick above his left eye. The crooked tooth in his otherwise straight white teeth was showing, and the dimple in his right cheek puckered when he smiled at her. Her partner in life and in business was amazing in every regard. Sam enjoyed a moment of smug self-satisfaction. Her mother would swoon.

  Even the thought of her mother caused Sam to wince internally. How was she going to get through an entire evening with the woman? It didn’t matter that other people would be at the party she and Reece were attending. Other people’s presence did little to curb her mother’s sharp tongue. In fact, an audience gave Grace, who was anything but gracious, plenty of opportunities to make her daughter look like a troll. For over three years, Sam had cut her out of her life. Now she had to introduce the heinous woman to her fiancé. Thinking about the next few hours made her stomach roll with anxiety.

  They’d planned to visit over Christmas, but Sam’s stepfather had taken Grace to Europe to meet with an Alzheimer specialist. Since returning, Harvey and Reece had both been pestering her about the introduction. It was stupid to have ignored them. If she’d arranged to go over for a drink, they could have had a short visit and escaped. Instead, poor Reece would be stuck at a party all night with Grace telling nasty stories about what a miserable brat her daughter had been.

  Since Lisa grew up next door and knew her family dynamics, going behind her
back and inviting Grace and Harvey to the party was a crappy thing to do, In fact, everything Lisa was doing these days was shitty. Reece disliked her best friend, and Sam couldn’t blame him. He’d never seen the warm, caring side of the beautiful Italian artist. This new Lisa was a stranger. It was as if an alien had transformed her childhood friend into an unrecognizable bitch.

  The whole situation sucked and Sam was dreading the party. At least there was nothing negative Grace could say about Reece. Mother Dearest would love everything about him.

  “Is it too much black?” he was asking, and she tried to focus on him rather than worrying about the hideous party. “Should I wear a button shirt? Maybe the T-shirt is too tight.” Reece tugged at the sleeves and frowned.

  Sam was about to tell him how fantastic he looked when her eyes fell on the watch he was wearing. His dad’s Rolex never left the safe deposit box.

  “You look great.” She took his hand and ran the fingertips of her other hand across the face of the watch. “Your dad’s watch looks great on you, too.”

  He licked his lips and swallowed. “Yeah, well, you know. Since I’m meeting your mother for the first time…”

  She smiled. “You wanted a piece of your family with you.”

  “Stupid, eh?”

  “Not at all,” she said. “You know, your dad would be proud of you.”

  His face crinkled with distaste and he shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t. On top of not finishing law school, I left the OPP.” He turned away to pick up his jacket.

  Dumb, dumb, dumb. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? His father had been a federal court judge, and, from what Lisa’s lawyer husband had told her, Justice Hash had ranked judges followed by lawyers at the top of the law enforcement pack. Federal police, provincial police, and municipal police followed. PIs didn’t rank at all. According to Justice Hash, they were useless organisms, slithering around in the muck, impeding intelligent people’s attempts to avoid anarchy within the masses. Although he’d never said, Sam imagined a young Reece calling his father “My Lord” rather than “Dad.”

  “So, before we go, is there anything you need to tell me?” Reece asked.

  Fair question. Last year, she’d told him her mother was dead. They had almost broken up when he discovered the truth—well, that and a few other lies that blew up in her face. Sometimes late at night, she still woke in a cold sweat over how close she’d come to destroying their relationship.

  “Yes. My mother is a bitch.”

  He laughed. “Something you haven’t already told me.”

  She sighed. “With the exception of Talia, you’ve met everyone who’ll be at the party, so no surprises there. Remember, Grace has a habit of using the Alzheimer’s as an excuse to be mean. My stepfather told me last week she’s had amazing success with a trial drug for early onset. Don’t let her bamboozle you.”

  “Well, people change when they face serious illness.” He picked up his phone and put it in his pocket. “I’m excited to meet her.”

  A nasty prickle of apprehension scurried up her neck. Evil people did not change but she held her tongue. “Remember your promise,” she said instead.

  The response was a dismissive hand gesture. “I’m the Starship Enterprise with a non-interference directive. I’m not going to try to force you to mend your relationship.” He paused. “Even though it’s important to sort through the pain. You don’t want regrets.”

  Amazing how couples always circle back to the main personality difference between them. Reece was a “confront the past and work toward closure” personality. She was a “do it and be done with it” type. Time to change the subject.

  “Be warned,” she said. “Lisa has theme parties.”

  Reece went to the front door and held it open. “Geez, I hate those. Why can’t adults get together to celebrate something without turning it into a kids’ party?”

  “Well, you said earlier that you’re starving. You’ll like the food. It’ll be catered by some up-and-coming chef.” She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “It always is at Lisa’s parties. Me, I’d prefer burgers on the barbecue. I’ve never understood the purpose of things like micro-greens.”

  Reece laughed. “They’re pretty. We eat with our eyes.”

  Sam picked up her keys and wandered around the loft, bending to give Brandy, their golden retriever, a pat.

  “Stop dawdling,” Reece said. “I’m activating the alarm. You have sixty seconds to get your butt out the door.” He keyed in the code.

  With a sigh, she shuffled over and he kissed the top of her head. “It won’t be that bad. I’ll protect you from your mother.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist. “We could stay home and have alone time,” she suggested, with what she hoped was a seductive smile. She wasn’t good at seduction and wasn’t surprised when he laughed at her.

  “Fine,” she said with a sigh. “Let’s get this hell over with.”

  * * *

  “THEY AREN’T COMING,” Lisa announced the second they’d walked through the door of the High Park house. “So stop bitching at me for inviting a guest to my party without asking your permission.”

  From the corner of her eye, Sam caught the disappointment on Reece’s face.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “How should I know?” Lisa glanced at Reece with a sour expression and didn’t acknowledge him.

  Oh boy. This is going to be a fun evening.

  “Hi Lisa, nice to see you.” Reece leaned in and pecked her cheek. “Thanks for inviting us.”

  In lieu of a greeting, Lisa said, “It’s an urban animal theme.”

  That explained the squirrel costume.

  “Where’s my gorgeous goddaughter?” Sam asked, peeking over Lisa’s shoulder to the family room.

  “Staying overnight with my brother and Janice. Kira wants you to take her to the zoo on Saturday,” Lisa said. “Can you please call her? She doesn’t understand why you aren’t around.” She shot Reece a scathing glare. “Her feelings are hurt.”

  “Sounds fun,” she said, ignoring Lisa’s guilt trip. “So long as it’s just me and Kira.”

  Typically, Lisa’s sister-in-law pawned her three little monsters off on Lisa. Sam always referred to her friend as having “kids”—plural rather than singular—and she wasn’t fond of Lisa’s nephews. She wasn’t taking them to the zoo, where they would wreak havoc and she wouldn’t be able to corral them. On the other hand, she adored her five-year-old goddaughter. She wasn’t keen about gawking at animals trapped in cages outside their natural habitats, but maybe she could coax Kira into staying around the petting zoo and stuffing her chubby cheeks with treats.

  More guests had arrived and Reece was speaking to an owl. Because of the costume, Sam couldn’t tell who it was and wandered into the living room. Lisa had decorated it as a city park. A woodland mural hung against the long wall that divided the front room from the formal dining room, and a couple of inflatable trees sat beside papier mâché rocks. Cheap synthetic grass covered the gorgeous Persian carpet. It was ridiculous, but Sam couldn’t help but laugh when she spied a park bench covered with graffiti.

  In jarring contrast with the childish party decorations, formal servers dressed in black pants and starched white shirts strolled around the room with trays of hors d’oeuvres. A bartender operated a corner bar that displayed a vast assortment of booze, and catering staff was setting up an elaborate buffet in the dining room. The big prime rib roast was a welcome sight. Sam always feared that one of Lisa’s avant-garde chefs would reveal some disgusting delicacy, such as bull penis.

  She chatted with a chipmunk, a bat, two birds, and a deer. The chipmunk was already drunk, and Sam didn’t blame him. None of the urban animals looked happy.

  When she returned to the entry to fetch Reece, she found him holding two paper bags.

  In answer to her unasked question, he dolefully said, “Costumes.”

  Lisa popped her head back into the hallway. “I rented them be
cause I knew you wouldn’t. You can change upstairs.” Her tone was judgemental when she added, “I’m sure your boyfriend is dying for a drink.” With that, she flounced away with her bushy tail wagging behind her.

  “Is there a reason Lisa thinks I’m an alcoholic?” Reece asked. “Every time I see her, she implies I drink too much.”

  Reece didn’t drink much and the comment wasn’t about him. “Her dad was an alcoholic,” she told him. “She’s sensitive around people she doesn’t know well and booze.”

  “Then she shouldn’t serve it at parties.” He tugged her into the corner of the stairwell. “Why did she rent us costumes?”

  “It’s just in fun.” Sam kept her tone cheery.

  His jaw jutted out stubbornly. “We’re not five years old. I’m not wearing a bloody costume.”

  “Abigail and Talia aren’t here yet, and Talia won’t wear a costume.” She flicked the brown bag. “If you don’t want to wear it, it’s not a big deal. At least take a look, okay?”

  “Is Roger here?” Reece asked.

  She shrugged. “Not that I noticed, why?”

  “I am a little curious to see that fusspot in a costume.” He grinned at her.

  She laughed and led him up the stairs to the bedrooms.

  In the guest room, he handed her the bag with her name on it and opened his own.

  Slowly, he extracted a black costume. “At least it matches my clothes.” He turned the fabric over in his hand. He froze and his eyes widened.

  “What? What is it?”

  He held it out but she couldn’t tell.

  Once he turned it around to face her, she felt her own eyes widen.

  “Oh.”

  A long white stripe ran down the back of the black jumpsuit from the collar to the tip of a fluffy tail.

  Reece dropped it on the bed. “I’m not wearing it,” he said with a composed tone but ugly expression.

  It took her a minute to figure out what her brown suit with the white front was. When the animal came to mind, her cheeks flushed with anger.

  Reece’s expression shifted to curiosity. “Well, what is it?”

  “It’s… a weasel.”