Open House

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “Which is next door to the furnace and water heater, where I saw a lot of black spots on the concrete,” Bryce said.

  “Also,” Seth continued, “we installed a state-of-the-art air purifier in my office because I was starting to develop allergies in my old age. Runny nose, bloodshot eyes, and scratchy throat were impacting my daily word count.”

  “Which are also symptoms of toxic black mold,” Osler pointed out.

  “Is that right? What about intestinal problems, like… diarrhea and vomiting?” Seth asked looking slightly jaundiced. “I’ve been having issues with my stomach lately.”

  Osler nodded. “It seems like you were also affected without knowing it. I have a list of symptoms if you’d like to look them over.”

  “God, I feel dirty,” Seth said. “Are these… spores… still inside of me?”

  “Apparently the toxic effects should gradually decrease once you’re no longer exposed.”

  “You’ve been fine for weeks,” Bryce reminded him. “I think it’s safe to assume you’re not in any danger, but I’d get a physical to make sure.”

  Seth nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” Osler interjected. “What is your relationship to Seth?”

  “Bryce is a special friend,” Seth replied. “He was my roommate on the cruise.”

  “I see,” Osler frowned. He obviously disapproved. “Before we go any further, you have to make arrangements to vacate your property immediately.”

  “I haven’t moved back home,” Seth confessed. “I’ve been staying with Bryce since we got back from Europe.”

  “Your friend just mentioned he saw the mold,” Osler reminded him. “When did this happen if you’re not living there?”

  “We stopped by the other day to pick up a few of my things, but I never intended to move back, and now I’m more determined to stay away.”

  “You might consider an alternative living arrangement, Seth. The insurance company is sure to investigate.”

  “I don’t understand,” Seth said. “What do my living arrangements have to do with anything?”

  “There’s a large life insurance policy involved, and you’re the only beneficiary. Mark took this out years ago, probably forgetting there was a suicide clause. If the policyholder dies by their own hand, the payout becomes null and void. However, if we can prove that Mark committed suicide due to mental impairment by the toxic mold, they might reconsider or be willing to negotiate,” Osler said. “It’s definitely worth a shot.”

  “How much money are we talking here?” Seth asked.

  “You mean to tell me you honestly don’t know?” Osler asked in disbelief.

  “If he knew, he wouldn’t ask,” Bryce snapped.

  “Half a million,” Osler replied.

  Seth buried his face in his hands. Osler pushed a box of tissue toward Bryce, and he yanked out a few sheets, then nudged Seth toward the sofa, where they collapsed in a tight huddle. After Seth pulled himself together, Bryce handed him the tissues.

  “I’m sorry.” Seth blew his nose. “This has been such a shock.”

  “For all of us,” Osler said gently, finally acting a little more humane. “Mark was my client for years.”

  “Where do we go from here?” Seth asked.

  “I’ll need permission to get mold specialists into your house to do a thorough inspection. Once the source of mold is pinpointed, a full report can be presented to the insurance company to start the negotiations. I’ll also give them a copy of the autopsy report showing the presence of mycotoxins in Mark’s system. This should prove Mark wasn’t in his right mind when he took the pills. He’s had this policy for over ten years, and I’m hoping the company will see this as a tragedy instead of casting doubt on you or Mark.”

  “Me?” Seth asked, looking mystified.

  “You seem to have moved on rather quickly, Seth. They might wonder if you gave Mark those pills for your own benefit.”

  Seth sucked in a shocked breath. “Is that why you want me to move out of Bryce’s place?”

  “You asshole,” Bryce growled. “What the hell are you implying?”

  “I’m simply playing devil’s advocate, gentlemen. Trust me when I tell you that the insurance investigator will only assume the worst. The majority of murder cases involving large sums of money are committed by spouses or significant others.”

  “Am I under suspicion?” Seth asked, voice rising. “Are the cops involved?”

  “Not that I’m aware, although that can change in an instant. It would be in your best interest to find another place to live.”

  “No, that’s bullshit,” Bryce said. “He stays with me.”

  “Do I have access to money?” Seth asked plaintively. “I’m broke.”

  “Didn’t you have anything put away in your joint savings account?” Osler asked.

  “Yes, but after paying all the bills incurred on my trip and Mark’s funeral expenses, I’ll be scraping the bottom of the barrel until my next royalty check arrives.”

  “And when is that expected?”

  “Not until the end of December.”

  “I see,” Osler said, making notes on his legal pad.

  “So even if I wanted to move out of Bryce’s place, I can’t,” Seth said.

  “There’s no need for you to move out,” Bryce reiterated. “Mr. Osler is being overly cautious.”

  “Don’t you think it’s better to play it safe?” Osler asked. “You have a lot to lose.”

  “I can always move back to my house once they remove the mold.” Seth shuddered. “Except I don’t want to.”

  “Getting rid of toxic black mold isn’t that simple,” Bryce said. “It’s a tedious and lengthy process that might take weeks or months.”

  “Great,” Seth replied. “So much for our plan to renovate.”

  “We can still do that after the mold issue is resolved.”

  “You’re thinking of selling the house?” Osler asked. “Mark specifically mentioned he wanted you to stay there since it’s paid off.”

  “Well, Mark can go fuck himself,” Seth blurted. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he looked horrified and then slumped against Bryce and began to cry again.

  “Can we go?” Bryce asked Osler. “Seth’s had enough for one day.”

  “I’ll messenger the paperwork for his signature when it’s ready. Would you please give me your address?” Osler asked, shoving his legal pad in Bryce’s direction.

  Bryce wrote everything out in block letters and, after passing it back to Osler, gently lifted Seth by the elbows. “Let’s go home, babe.”

  “Think about my recommendation,” Osler said on their way out. “You can always move in together when this is over.”

  “We have nothing to hide,” Bryce said confidently. “They can investigate up the wazoo, but they’ll draw a blank. Seth and I were virtually strangers a month ago. Things have changed since then, but that doesn’t mean he’s been involved in some sinister plot to off his husband. That kind of shit only happens on TV.”

  “I beg to disagree,” Osler said frostily. “The reason you see this plot repeated so often on the big or little screen is because it happens every day. Look up the stats yourself if you don’t believe me. Insurance companies are too familiar with this scenario, especially when the payout is large and there’s only one beneficiary. They will look into every aspect of Seth’s life before a decision is made. Count on it.”

  “They won’t find anything,” Seth said tiredly. “Mark and I were married for twenty happy years. You can poll friends and neighbors and they’ll tell you there were no domestic abuse incidents. We were rather predictable and probably boring as hell, but it worked for us. I’m not going to hole up in some cheap motel to throw a smoke screen around my relationship with Bryce to placate the insurance company. What I do or don’t do in private is none of their fucking business.”

  “Let it go on record that I have advised you to reconsider your decision,” Osler said. “Playing the role of
a grieving partner will look better than acting like a man who’s callously moved on with life.”

  Bryce could see Seth changing before his eyes. That haunted look he’d been familiar with when they started their UK trip was back, erasing all signs of recent happiness. He could almost feel the man withdrawing like a wounded animal, and he wanted to punch Osler in the face for making Seth miserable again.

  Doing his best to contain the anger and use words rather than fists, he snarled, “You don’t know me from the man in the moon, Mr. Osler, but I’d like to go on record as well. Seth doesn’t have to pretend to grieve for your sake or anyone else’s, for that matter. Just because he’s chosen to live rather than throw himself on a funeral pyre doesn’t mean he’s stopped grieving. Seth loved Mark and will probably miss him every day of his life, but you’ll never believe that because you’re so focused on appearances. The pain is real and raw as hell, and you’ve just managed to rip another scab off the wound that’s barely healed. You can take your sage advice and shove it up your ass.”

  Osler’s look of disdain only fueled Bryce’s anger, and he would have probably clocked him, against his better judgment, if Seth hadn’t wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned on him for support.

  Reining in the fury, he turned to Seth and quietly repeated, “Come on, babe. Let’s go home.”

  “Yeah, get me the hell out of here.”

  Chapter 5

  MISTAKE… MISTAKE… mistake was spinning around in Seth’s head like a continuous loop from hell. Coming to terms with the suicide had been difficult enough when an incurable disease had been presented as Mark’s motivation. Seth had struggled with his partner’s choice, but had eventually conceded the decision was a loving act rather than a reflection on his abilities as a competent support system. In the wake of this new discovery, Seth’s original feelings of anger, betrayal, and remorse descended on him like a London fog. Moreover, he was horrified that the insidious black spores had taken up residence in their home and had been destroying Mark’s mind before he could figure out what was happening. When did it start?

  Seth had never paid much attention to home repairs. In truth, the only time he noticed something leaking or broken was if it affected his writing. One incident he could recollect was his Internet going down. As soon as Mark had switched carriers, he stopped bitching and slipped back into his writing cave. The entire house might have gone up in flames and he’d be blissfully unaware until his toes caught on fire.

  “Your guilt trip is so loud it’s drowning out the music,” Bryce commented matter-of-factly. “Quit it.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Seth huffed. “You’re not the self-centered asshole who didn’t notice his partner was fucking dying!”

  “You’ve used the F word more times in the last hour than you did the entire three weeks we were traveling,” Bryce said mildly.

  “I’m sorry,” Seth said. “My filters have sprung a leak.”

  Bryce moved his right hand off the steering wheel and put it on Seth’s thigh. “I wasn’t scolding you, babe. Just commenting.”

  “You’re right, though. I’ve been cussing up a blue streak when I should be crying instead.”

  “Hell no! I’d rather have you pissed off.”

  “Am I wrong to be so angry, Bryce? Now more than ever, I’m convinced Mark considered me a brainless hood ornament.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Bryce stated. “Everything I’ve read about toxic black mold points to the fact that people can be affected for years and not realize it. Case in point, your sensitive stomach. You’ve accepted it as a physical weakness and never bothered to get to the root cause. Mark probably attributed a lot of his symptoms to aging and didn’t consider them worth mentioning. I really don’t think he deliberately kept you out of the loop because he thought you were stupid. In all the years I spotted him at the gym, he never belittled you. Actually, the opposite was true. On the rare occasions you came up in the conversation, he seemed very pleased by your writing success.”

  “That’s different,” Seth insisted. “He was proud of my work, but I don’t think he respected me as a person.”

  “I think you’re overly sensitive due to this new revelation,” Bryce said. “We don’t really know when the mold began to poison him. It might have started years ago and the changes were so gradual he didn’t notice until it was too late.”

  “True,” Seth agreed. “The funny thing about Mark, which I never understood, was his habit of glossing over his physical ailments, like he wasn’t allowed to be sick. A common cold or headache wasn’t worth mentioning, nor would it cause him to miss a day of work. For some reason, he was convinced the pharmacy would shut down without him.”

  “Then you shouldn’t be surprised that he chose to keep his symptoms to himself. He probably didn’t want to bother you with something he considered inconsequential.”

  “Or he didn’t want me to worry. Mark considered himself the head of our household, the stoic provider who dealt with the daily inconveniences of living, allowing me, the sensitive recluse, to be shielded from reality because it might impact my writing.”

  “And you bought in to that bullshit?” Bryce asked dubiously. “You don’t strike me as being that passive.”

  “It was easier than fighting over things I didn’t really care about. Was I going to insist on mowing the lawn or doing laundry just to prove I could? He had his role and I had mine.”

  Bryce didn’t say anything, but Seth could sense his disapproval and would have preferred an opinion rather than this yawning silence.

  Petulantly, Seth threw out, “Judging much?”

  “No,” Bryce said slowly. “Simply gathering the facts.”

  “It’s not that complicated,” Seth said angrily. “Mark told me many times that he didn’t need a domestic goddess. My job was to keep on writing so the royalty checks kept flowing.”

  “Were you on some sort of schedule?” Bryce gave him another sideway glance.

  “Not really.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I wasn’t on a schedule per se, but he’d inquire about my daily word count at dinner and look disappointed if I fell short.”

  Bryce snorted. “In other words, he played the guilt card when you didn’t live up to your end of the bargain. He let the household duties slide so long as you kept on writing every day.”

  “Is that what it looks like to an outsider?” Seth asked.

  “That’s how I see it.”

  Seth gnawed on his lower lip. “Perhaps you’re right, but it doesn’t erase the truth. I was too self-absorbed to realize he was suffering.”

  “Because he didn’t want you to know,” Bryce said firmly. “Leave it at that or you’ll slip back into the shitty place you were in a month ago.”

  Seth didn’t bother to argue. He couldn’t shut off his brain or block out the negative thoughts, but he would do his best to work through his feelings in private so Bryce wouldn’t worry. It was bad enough that his attorney and the insurance company put his relationship with Mark under a microscope. He didn’t want his past to affect his current relationship. Bryce had treated him like an equal from the start. He hadn’t sugarcoated the truth or assumed Seth couldn’t handle a given situation. It was very different from Mark’s overprotective cosseting. Even if his late partner’s intentions had been good, the execution sucked. He’d diminished Seth, whereas Bryce’s brand of caring had uplifted him and helped him grow as a person.

  Locking himself away and ignoring everything but the characters in his head was no longer an option. He would have to pull himself together and face this current crisis head-on. The first order of business would be to wait and find out if the lawyer could persuade the insurance company to reopen the claim, which they’d closed due to the cause of death. If they were amenable to the idea and willing to investigate the black mold theory as Mark’s true cause of death, he and Bryce would need to address Doug Osler’s concerns regarding their living arrangements.
<
br />   The lawyer’s suggestion that he’d moved on swiftly hadn’t fallen on deaf ears. Seth was aware that cops and detectives could spin anything to suit their purposes. It made sense that he’d be a suspect, considering he was the only beneficiary, but if the investigator was honest and worth his salt, facts would reveal that apart from the breakfast meetings years ago, he and Bryce hadn’t even socialized until after Mark died.

  Planning and executing the perfect murder wasn’t as easy as it appeared on TV or the big screen. The perpetrator was usually caught. In this kind of case, there would be a paper trail or phone records someone could use to prove he and Bryce had been in cahoots. Even the smartest criminal made mistakes, and Seth was confident they’d find nothing to implicate him—he was innocent after all. The only thing that might raise eyebrows was his surprising decision to move in with Bryce. However, presuming there was anything nefarious going on was preposterous.

  Given Bryce’s past use of Grindr, which they could check with his permission, it was obvious he hadn’t been in a committed relationship in forever. Would they believe the whole friends-to-lovers scenario? Falling in love so suddenly was the stuff of romance novels, and in truth, Seth hadn’t heard the words, so it could very well be one-sided. Just thinking about it put him a foul mood.

  Bryce parked the car in his usual spot, and Seth got out before he turned off the ignition. He was halfway to the elevator before Bryce caught up and yanked him back roughly.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “I’m sick of second-guessing myself,” Seth snarled.

  “Over what?” Bryce asked.

  “What do you think?” Seth fought back the tears. “I feel like such a loser for overlooking the obvious.”

  Seth buried his face in his hands. He was too overwrought to pretend he was coping. The autopsy report had messed with his recently gained stability and thrown him right back into a state of angry confusion.

  “You did nothing wrong,” Bryce said softly, pulling Seth into his arms. “Not a damn thing.”