Transposition

by Gregory Ashe

  Nico, still slumped against Hazard, breathed raggedly.

  “Are you all right?” Hazard said; he didn’t know what else to say, and he couldn’t keep the furious edge out of his voice.

  Nodding, Nico winced and touched his ribs.

  “Can I let you go, or are you going to act like a lunatic?”

  Stiffly, Nico said, “You can let go.”

  Hazard released his hold on the younger man, and Nico straightened. He touched his side again, flinched, and then dropped his head forward. Thick sheaves of hair fell to cover his features.

  “Aw, Jesus.”

  Hazard touched the small of his back. “Can you get up?”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Let’s talk about this in my room.”

  Nico managed to get to his feet, and then he helped Hazard up. The nurses and doctors and techs had returned to a semblance of ordinary activity, but their eyes followed Hazard and Nico. The patients didn’t even bother to hide their interest. A flicker of the old resentment rose inside Hazard: they were getting an eyeful of the faggots. He crushed the thought, grinding it out like a cigarette stub, but still—

  Inside the room, he shut the door. Nico dropped onto the bed, his face buried in the linens. For a moment, Hazard stayed at the door. His hand hurt, and he noticed now that one of the IV needles had torn loose; a trickle of blood worked its way through the dark hairs on his wrist. What a mess. Hazard still didn’t know what had happened, not exactly, but he knew it was a mess. A mess the size of Oklahoma.

  He worked his way over to the bed, sat, and ran his fingers down Nico’s neck. Nico shivered, the muscles in his shoulders bunching, and he clutched at Hazard’s arm with one hand. His grip was tight, almost desperate.

  “Do you want me to get a doctor in here? They can look at your ribs.”

  “No.” The word was muffled by the bed linens.

  There was nothing to say. Nobody in the entire history of the universe could have come up with something to say at that moment. Nobody except—except Somers. Hazard stifled a sigh, and then he tried to think of what Somers would say.

  “I don’t get a welcome back kiss?”

  A single burst of laughter tore through Nico, and he rolled onto his back. The sheets had smeared the blood on his cheeks, and his eyes were red and full of tears. His grip on Hazard’s arm hadn’t loosened; if anything, it was tighter.

  “He didn’t tell me.”

  “What?”

  “Your dickhole partner didn’t tell me.”

  “He didn’t tell you—”

  “He didn’t tell me anything. He didn’t tell me that you were hurt. He didn’t tell me that you were in the hospital. He didn’t tell me that you were unconscious and might not wake up again.”

  “I wasn’t really unconscious. Well, not very much.”

  Nico dashed a hand across his eyes. He still lay on his back, staring up at Hazard. Hazard settled his hand on Nico’s chest, feeling the lean muscle, the warmth through the tattered cotton. “You’ve been here, how long? Three days?” Hazard opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, Nico continued, “Three days, Emery. I would have changed my flight. I would have taken a train or the bus or whatever. I would have hitched a ride. I would have done just about anything to get back here, even if it meant I only got here a minute faster, and that—that—”

  “All right.”

  “And he was here. In your room. Laughing and talking and looking at you—”

  “All right.”

  “No, it’s not all right. Looking at you like you—like you belong to him, like you’re the only thing in his whole universe and everybody better keep their hands off, like he just wants you to rip his clothes off and—”

  “That’s enough.”

  Nico swallowed and dashed at his eyes again. He struggled for a moment to remain silent; his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, and he swallowed reflexively. Then he burst out, “I’m sorry, all right? I got that message from you when I got off the plane, and it was all I could think about the whole drive back: he knew. That bastard knew, and he knew he should have told me, and he didn’t. You know why, Emery.”

  The words made Hazard’s skin prickle. He ran his hand along the side of Nico’s face and tried to make his voice light. “So you decided to come rushing in here and settle things like a drunk frat boy.”

  Nico groaned, and he turned his face into Hazard’s touch, nuzzling at his hand. “I’m such an idiot.” For a time, a few minutes, maybe five, neither of them spoke. But Nico’s hand hadn’t loosened from Hazard’s wrist, and the lines of his body were still rigid with tension. When he spoke again, his voice was low, and he directed the words into the bedding. “I don’t want you living with him, Emery. Something’s going to happen, and it’s either going to screw you up or it’s going to screw me up. If you stay, it’s just a matter of time.”

  Hazard thought about the nights he had spent with Somers, the feel of his naked body under the sheets, the feel of his touch, the way Somers’s skin had tightened with desire at Hazard’s contact. His heart pounded, and suddenly he felt hot in a way that had nothing to do with winter and everything to do with summer.

  “Emery?” Nico pushed Hazard’s hand away and sat up, locking eyes with him. “I mean it.”

  “I heard you.”

  And that was the question, wasn’t it? Would what happened with Somers happen again? Or had it been an anomaly, the conjunction of coincidences: sharing a bed, losing their clothes, the heat between their bodies, Somers’s drunken pain? How much was Emery Hazard willing to gamble that the man he had loved for almost twenty years might, someday, return those feelings? And how many opportunities was Hazard willing to throw away while he waited?

  “I’m going to put my foot down. If you—”

  Hazard’s hand tightened on Nico’s neck, just shy of painful, and he dragged the younger man in and kissed him. When the kiss broke, Hazard growled, “I said I heard you.”

  A KNOCK AT THE DOOR made Hazard look up from his book.

  Leza stood there, wearing a tailored black suit and glossy black heels. Her hair was up, her make-up was neat and tasteful, and a subtle perfume followed her as she stepped into the room. Meryl followed a moment later. Dressed in a pressed slacks and a cream blouse, with pearls around her neck, Meryl was even lovelier than she’d been at Windsor. Both women stopped halfway across the room. They fidgeted, wringing their hands and glancing at each other.

  “Sit down if you’re going to sit down.” Hazard glanced at Nico, who was curled up, cat-like, next to him on the bed.

  “You want me to—” Nico began to rise.

  Hazard shook his head.

  For another moment, the women hesitated. Then Meryl pulled out a chair, and Leza followed her.

  “Is this your . . .” Leza began, but she trailed off.

  “Why are you here?” Hazard asked.

  “To thank you,” Meryl said. Ice. She could have been ice: that milky skin, the cream blouse, slacks grayish-brown. Only her hair gave her the appearance of life. Her hair and her eyes, which were now shiny with tears. “What happened at Windsor, it was a nightmare. But I know we wouldn’t have made it out of their without you.”

  “That’s right,” Leza said, nodding. “That’s absolutely right.”

  “You should be thanking Detective Somerset.”

  “We did.” Meryl paused, blinking her eyes clear. “We did, but we also wanted to thank you. What you went through, risking your life—”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “The same old thing, I suppose.”

  “You’re going to keep running Strong, Matley, Gross?”

  Leza shook her head. “The majority of the shares went to a regional investment firm. InnovateMidwest. We’ll be transitioning everything over. It might take a few months, but we’ll make it happen.”

  The women exchanged another look.

  “We should be going—” Leza said.

  Mer
yl latched onto the other woman’s arm. “Detective Hazard, when we spoke to Detective Somerset, he told us about Columbia. Unofficially.” She glanced at Nico, a question in her expression.

  Hazard ignored the question. “And?”

  “What Columbia did—trying to murder that woman, and then killing Gene.” Meryl paused; her eyes brightened again with tears. “Detective, I don’t think it was to frame Thomas. At least, I don’t think that was the only reason.”

  Hazard shifted Nico’s arm and straightened in the hospital bed. “What are you talking about?”

  Meryl glanced at Leza, and, with a sigh, the other woman said, “I took the liberty of accessing Columbia’s email account. Head of HR, you know, and then I did some . . .”

  “Snooping,” Meryl said.

  “Selective reading.” Leza’s mouth thinned into a line. “This morning, I found the draft of an email. It didn’t have an addressee, you understand. I have no idea who was going to receive this email. No idea. I can’t even make a guess.”

  “Enough,” Meryl said.

  “What did it say?” Hazard asked.

  “It was an announcement. According to this email, Strong, Matley, Gross had just acquired several hundreds of acres of prime real estate near Wahredua.” Leza stopped. Under the makeup, she suddenly looked gray-faced.

  “In partnership with InnovateMidwest,” Meryl continued, “Columbia was going to announce the development of a country club and luxury community.”

  Hazard paused, trying to think through what she had just said. “In partnership with InnovateMidwest,” he repeated. “That’s what it said?”

  Leza gave a jerky nod.

  Meryl spoke in a soft voice. “Strong, Matley, Gross hasn’t acquired any land around Wahredua, and the only property that matches that description belongs to Batsy Ferrell. Columbia might have killed Gene to protect herself. She might have killed Gene because she hated him. But she tried to kill Mrs. Ferrell out of greed.”

  A prickling silence followed those words. Then Leza laughed, and it sounded almost as sickly as her expression. She surged to her feet. “We really have to be going. Thank you so much.” Without waiting for an answer, she darted out of the room.

  Meryl lingered by the door. Her eyes had moved to Nico, who returned her attention without expression. Then she glanced at Hazard one last time. “They were behind it, weren’t they? These . . . these investors, they tried to kill all of us.”

  Hazard managed to say, “It’s hard to know.”

  “They were. You know it. And I know it. Adaline might have killed Thomas, but they would have killed the rest of us.” Meryl shivered, and once again she looked like something carved out of snow. Her fingertips whitened as she clutched the doorframe. “I think I need to find a new job. Thank you again, Detective. I hope you’ll understand when I say I don’t ever want to see you again.” She left without a backward glance.

  Fifteen minutes later, the screaming started. The voice was recognizable. Even in Hazard’s hospital room, Columbia’s screams rang with shrill fury. The sound brought Hazard upright in bed; Nico, who was dozing, slid off Hazard’s chest and blinked. The screams grew louder, interspersed with the squeals of metal scraping along the vinyl flooring and the slapping, scrabbling noise of bare flesh against the ground. Hazard heaved himself out of bed, ignoring Nico’s squawk of protest. A nurse had removed his IV, and it was easier to stand straight, so Hazard levered the door open and propped himself against the frame.

  A few yards down the hall, Columbia struggled with Swinney and Somers. Columbia’s blanched, angular face gleamed behind the curtain of her hair. Swinney, Wahredua’s only female detective, looked tired. Somers looked worse: his nose was black and blue and still puffy; one of Nico’s punches had split his lip; and his clothes were so wrinkled and rumpled that it looked like Somers had wandered in off the street, rather than like a police officer. Somers glanced up, caught Hazard’s eye, and smiled. The split lip must have hurt like hell. Then Nico’s arm went around Hazard’s shoulders, and Somers’s smile widened.

  Columbia thrashed for a few more moments and then slumped, her weight suspended by Swinney and Somers. Swinney snapped the cuffs onto her, and a shudder ran through Columbia. Somers, bending down, whispered something into Columbia’s ear. She shuddered again, nodded, and tried to get to her feet. Swinney and Somers helped her, and they proceeded down the hall towards Hazard.

  Somers didn’t say anything. He wasn’t smiling anymore. He nodded at Hazard; that was it, just a nod. Swinney smiled. Swinney jerked on Columbia’s arms, stopping the woman, and asked, “You’re coming back, right? Because I don’t think I can handle this for another day.” She tilted her head towards Somers, grinning.

  Hazard opened his mouth, but Nico spoke first: “The doctor doesn’t want Emery doing anything for another week.”

  The words were too harsh, too fast, too angry. Hazard’s cheeks reddened. Swinney shrugged and looked away and then back and then away again. And there it was again: that smirk on Somers’s face. He didn’t say a word; the bastard didn’t have to.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Hazard said into the strained silence.

  Swinney nodded; she looked almost sorry for him. “Oh, hey. Thought you’d want to know: Ozark Major Case Squad wrapped up their case too.”

  It took a moment for Hazard to process the words. “The killer? The one who was killing people, stealing their cars, driving across the state?”

  “Yeah. It was your guy, Frerichs.” Something flickered in Swinney’s eyes—caution, maybe, or perhaps something else. Something more sinister. “Strange, right? He was in a hell of a hurry to get somewhere, but he ended up at Windsor. Didn’t you say he tried to blow up the house?”

  Hazard couldn’t speak. In his mind, though, he tallied the deaths. The connection suddenly seemed clear: Mayor Newton, or someone else with connections at InnovateMidwest, had called in a hitman. The guy had left a trail of bodies on his way to Windsor. So, not a professional. Not someone who could do the job decent and do it quiet. Instead, they got someone disposable, someone with a criminal record, someone that—someone who could be dismissed as a lunatic.

  With a thump of her hand, Swinney prodded Columbia forward. Hazard gave Swinney a half-wave goodbye. Somers didn’t do anything but walk away with that goddamn smirk burning like a very long fuse on a very big bomb.

  When they were out of sight, Hazard shrugged off Nico’s arm.

  “What? The doctor did say that. He doesn’t want you to—”

  “Go pull your car around.”

  “What?”

  “Your car. Go get it. I’m leaving.”

  “You can’t.” Nico followed Hazard into the room. Hazard tugged the hospital gown over his head and found a pair of jeans and a sweater in the closet. Nico, his face torn with indecision, hovered in the doorway. “I don’t get it. I just said what—”

  “Yeah. You said it.”

  “What did I do wrong?”

  “Go get your car,” Hazard said, speaking slowly so that he wouldn’t shout. “Or should I walk home?”

  It took longer than Hazard had expected to escape the hospital. The nurses wanted to talk to him. The doctor wanted to talk to him. Then the nurses wanted to talk again, and then the doctor had to examine the worst cuts, especially the one on Hazard’s hand, and then—on and on until Hazard finally spotted a break in the flow of people and took the service stairs to the main floor.

  They drove towards Market Street and the apartment that Hazard shared, for a few more days at least, with Somers. The November day had died; only a last, burning line along the horizon marked the sun’s passing. The darkness, though, lacked the brittle cold that had been Hazard’s companion for the last few days. Instead, unseasonable warmth had taken hold of Wahredua. Snowmelt filled the streets, turning them into shallow rivers, but the warm weather barely seemed to have made a dent in the blackened piles of snow that lined the road. Ahead of them, Market Street twinkled, a line of green and
red and white. Softly on Nico’s stereo, a jazzy Christmas carol was playing. Hazard leaned forward, and he breathed on the glass, waiting to see his breath fog. It didn’t; the car pumped out too much heat. God, he hated Christmas.

  “It’s early. We could get dinner. Indian. Or maybe Thai.” Nico laughed, his knuckles whitening around the steering wheel. “Oh my God, I’m being so stupid. You probably want to go to that cop bar, right? Let’s do that.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Right. See, that’s me. Being stupid again. You’ve got to be exhausted. I’ll run out and pick something up. You want a burger? Anything except hospital food, I bet.”

  Hazard breathed onto the glass again. Still nothing. Not a goddamn thing.

  The next words sounded torn from Nico, as though he’d tried to hold them back. “I’m sorry, ok? That fight with John-Henry, that was so dumb. I shouldn’t have done that. And today, I don’t why I said that. Honest, I didn’t think. I should have let you speak for yourself.”

  He’s a baby. That was what Hazard kept hearing: Somers’s words from the day before. He’s just a baby. He’d been talking about Nico, and Hazard wished he could get the words out of his head, but all he could see was that smirk on Somers’s lips.

  “Will you say something?”

  Hazard worked his jaw for a moment. “Let’s just forget about it.”

  “I don’t want to forget about it. I want to talk about it.”

  Hazard didn’t answer, and after a couple of minutes, Nico’s shoulders dropped.

  They parked in the apartment building’s underground lot, where fans spun hot, heavy air along the cement. A wave of dizziness swept over Hazard when he got out of the car, and he clutched the door, focusing on breathing through the blackness that had swallowed his vision.

  “You really should be at the hospital,” Nico said, but he pulled Hazard’s arm across his shoulders. “Are you sure—”

  “I want to go home.”

  In the elevator, Hazard felt a little better; his vision cleared. He stared into the mirrored walls of the car. A thousand Emery Hazards stood there, each one slumping as his boyfriend held him upright, each one more pathetic than the last. Nico kissed his cheek and leaned his head against Hazard’s, and a thousand other Nicos kissed a thousand other Hazards, and the kiss was real, the kiss was passionate, and Hazard wondered why he felt cold, as if he were the one inside the glass.