"Well, you don't want to move in together, but you were talking about selling your house, even before I told you how I ruined everything. How much you miss the safety of the city or something. So, what am I supposed to think? That you meant to take me with you?"
"No, I—I wouldn't make you leave your project. I was just...thinking aloud. And upset. I don't want to leave you."
Gregory looked at him, studying his face, and some of the hopelessness left his gaze as he did. "Take me with you if you need to go," he said. "All of this?" He waved a hand around his garden. "I can always start fresh. Maybe somewhere without so many infernal thistles."
"I promise." He took Gregory's face in his hands, searching his gaze earnestly. "I promise. As long as you want me, we'll stick together."
"Well, that's going to be forever." Gregory wrapped his arms around Abe in a hug so tight that he felt like he could finally, finally breathe.
As they embraced, Abe might have shed a couple of tears, too.
ALL OF THIS WAS VERY good for their relationship, and helped Abe feel settled and whole again, and made the bleak, resigned look leave Gregory's eyes. But it did not advance his investigations at all. Partly because their reconciliation felt so new and tentative that he didn't want to push, and partly because in some ways he didn't want to risk their relationship for this. It wasn't worth being on the outs, or developing raw, hurt feelings between them. No, he'd have to look into it on his own.
Fortunately, Gregory hadn't been arrested, so the police must have written him off as a non-starter for the main suspect. Unfortunately, they hadn't arrested anyone else, either. Abe finally called Ollie.
"I'm recovering a bit. How are you?"
Ollie sighed dramatically. "Not the best ever. I had to talk with my ex—you know, Daniel Jeffries. He's on the case. It was all very awkward. I wasn't interrogated or anything, but he wanted to know what happened." Ollie sighed again. "He was so closed-off and harsh. I suppose he's held a grudge." He sounded wistful and sad as he shared how the interview had gone, Daniel's abrupt, curt questions and coldness.
"You must know you've broken a lot of hearts in your day," said Abe, then realized this wasn't exactly going to make him feel better. "Maybe he's one of them. Maybe he misses you."
"You make me sound positively vulgar, dear," said Ollie. He must be feeling a bit better for getting this all off his chest if he was saying "positively vulgar" in just that tone.
"Heartbreak hurts," said Abe. "Give him the benefit of the doubt. Not everyone gets over you quickly!"
"You speak like you have personal experience," teased Ollie.
"No, no!" He waved his free hand, blushing a little, glad that Ollie couldn't see it. Ollie was very charming. Abe hadn't lost his head and fallen over that and his heels for Ollie—but it had been a near-run thing when they were young, and Abe was wide-eyed and eager to learn. Ollie had been far too busy to give him his first heartbreak, going through a great quantity of more muscular men than Abe would ever be. Still.
Ollie said lightly, "You mustn't mind me. What's the reason you finally called? I'm sure it wasn't to hear my troubles!"
"How selfish do you think I am? Well, actually, you're right. I want to look into Lenard's death, and I need to know who all attended the bake sale to begin. Gregory doesn't want to get involved any more than he already is, so I thought I'd ask you."
"You poor thing! You love investigating. He should do it with you. You help him in that ridiculous garden of his."
"Well, not much. To be honest, I don't love the idea of investigating this. It's been...difficult. But sometimes it's better to know than not to know. I'd rather not risk losing Gregory, so if we can't work on this together, that's fine. I really won't go anywhere near his beehive, you know."
At these confused words, he stopped. Perhaps it hadn't made sense.
Ollie, however, seemed to glean his meaning from the jumbled speech. He sighed. "Well, I hope it's not too much for you. What do you need to know? Shall we meet for brunch and discuss it?"
"I haven't had brunch in ages," confessed Abe. "It would make me feel very civilized to have brunch."
"Yes, you old caveman out in the wilds. You beast," teased Ollie. Abe laughed, and they made plans to meet up tomorrow.
Feeling better for having started the ball rolling, Abe was able to finally get some work done. He didn't want it hanging over his head when he'd properly started to investigate. Though he had the feeling this wasn't going to be like last time, trooping around, asking nosy questions of his neighbors and friends. Still, it would be good to know who had done this and to put it all behind them.
He would really rather not move, if only because of Gregory's garden. It was lovely that he would move for Abe, really touching, but it would be best if he didn't have to. He might not be the sort of man to hold it over Abe's head, but Abe would always know he'd made Gregory abandon his dearest project.
Besides, there was no telling whether moving away would really fix the problem of Abe's nerves, or that it would be to somewhere less violent. Perhaps he was touched by death now, and it would echo into his life one way or another. He shuddered at the morbid thought, but spared a moment to look out his window, to where the zinnias used to grow, before they were soaked in the blood of a murdered man and Gregory had helped him pull them up and discard them all.
Staring out the window, he caught a glimpse of the new neighbor, Rufus Rongst, moving around among his outdoor sculptures. He was wearing a dressing gown and looked grumpy and ill-kempt, vaping hard on a vape pen as he moved around, distractedly moving first one thing a few inches, then moving it back, with what looked like a great deal of effort.
If he's not careful, he'll throw his back out. The man stopped suddenly and looked up, as if sensing he was being watched. Abe hesitated, shocked to realize the man was looking towards his kitchen window. Did I let the curtain slip? Slowly, Abe backed away from the window, heart pounding. The fellow looked so malevolent, glaring like that, puffing hard on his vaper.
Abe shuddered, relieved when the art lover finally went back to his business of puttering around the yard. At least Gregory wasn't the most eccentric fellow in the neighborhood anymore.
But I wish he and his wife weren't homophobic. It's always nicer when you can get along with your neighbors.
Still, if an art lover his age hadn't outgrown it, Abe wasn't going to be the one to change his mind. The man would have to stew in his prejudices. Abe would just stay out of his way.
I certainly won't ask him what happened after I left!
BRUNCH WAS DELIGHTFUL, and Ollie was in a cheerful mood, mixing gossip with the more mundane task of discussing who was present. He didn't know everyone's names, of course, but he gave a very good description of the people he'd seen, what they'd been doing, and Abe recognized everyone from his description as neighbors. It would be more profoundly interesting if he'd seen anyone doing anything suspicious, but they'd only wandered around, looking at things, chatting, buying, bidding, and eating. It was all perfectly ordinary.
"Unfortunately, it did turn some heads when Gregory said what he did." Ollie grimaced and wrapped his hands around his oversized mug. He had fine, delicate hands—certainly not the sort who could murder anyone. Unless it was in a very refined manner.
Abe shook the thought away as disloyal. It shouldn't even cross his mind that his friend might try to murder Lenard. Perhaps if it were just after the divorce, he might have been indignant enough to shout at or hit Lenard—assuming he could; Lenard was a strong guy—but even back then, no, Ollie was far too sensible.
"But I swear, nobody did anything even remotely out of the ordinary. After the argument, Len flounced off to the auction tables and acted very busy there, and Gregory left the building. I stayed a little longer, but not much. Honestly, I think the police are on the wrong tack with this."
"Perhaps that's why they haven't spoken to us again. They realized someone else did it. I still don't know what he was poisone
d with, or how." He looked at Ollie, opening his eyes wider. "You could find out, I bet. It would give you an excuse to talk with Daniel again."
"Boy, please! I don't need an excuse to talk to him. I don't wish to talk to him." He sniffed, and subsided, looking down at his mug. "Do you think he was really that into me? He knew I wasn't the settling-down sort."
"Well, don't let me push you into anything. I don't mean to be 'that guy.'"
Ollie gave him an affectionate look. "No fear. You're the least pushy person I've ever met."
As he drove home after their chat, Abe found himself wondering if that was a good thing or not.
Chapter eleven
He was working on making a wholesome stir fry when there was a commotion outside that drew him away from the chopping board, knife still in hand. He put it down hastily in case it was the cops, wiped his hands off on his apron, and stepped outside cautiously. Well, it was definitely not the cops. An earnest-looking twink was speaking with Gregory. He held a cardboard box like he was trying to offer it to Gregory, and his expression was worried and a little scared.
Despite himself, Abe felt a pang. Oh, to be that young, beautiful, and fresh-faced again! Still, he wouldn't trade that time in his life for now, and the steady, good man he shared it with.
"What's the matter?" he stepped forward. If the twink was scared of Gregory, he was unlikely to be intimidated by Abe. "Can I help?"
The young man, with his perfectly plucked brows and his earnest preppy style and college-boy hair, turned to Abe with a look of relief. "Oh, you must be Abe! I'm sorry to meet you under these circumstances, but—here. I thought you ought to have these back." Thus saying, he pushed the cardboard box into Abe's hands. "I'm pretty sure that's all of it."
Abe stared down in disbelief at what appeared to be most of his lost collection of aging Dolly memorabilia. Vinyls, pictures, shirts, magazines, autographs...so many things he'd thought lost forever. The familiarity was heart-wrenching, and he was in no way prepared for it. He bit his lip. "Oh. Thank you."
The young man stepped back immediately. "Well, I—I'll go now. Goodbye!"
Even if Abe hadn't been startled and arrested by the contents of the box, he thought he'd have recognized something about the jumpy young man. Abe hadn't purposely sought out images of his ex happily dating a younger, hotter man, but it had been unavoidable to run across them a few times. He'd had a lot of complicated feelings about it, ranging from anger that Lenard had apparently traded up—how did the assholes of the world end up with hot boyfriends?—and pity for the young man, as well as something depressingly like self-pity. Not that he'd wanted to be back with Lenard, but seeing himself replaced by someone younger and hotter hadn't been great for his ego, either.
"Edward? Edward Vail?" he asked cautiously, trying to be certain if the young man was the fellow he'd glimpsed on Lenard's social media...when had it been? A year or so ago? He couldn't recall. He looked different now, or at least his face did: so much more strain and tiredness, and a jumpiness that hadn't been apparent in the pictures. Of course, Abe had never met Edward in person, and dating Lenard was bound to make anyone jumpy.
"Yes, that's me." The young man looked a bit nervous admitting it.
"How are you? I'm sorry for your loss." Saying it aloud, he realized he really meant it. Abe had been estranged from Lenard for years, the man had ruined a chunk of his life, and he'd still been sad and upset about his death. It was surprisingly easy to offer condolences and mean them. Lenard's death was clearly hitting this haggard young man hard.
"Don't be." Edward's laugh was a broken thing, and for one moment, his face twisted up in a way that made him look as if he was going to cry. He smoothed his expression out to porcelain stillness. And just like porcelain, he looked fragile enough to shatter into a million pieces.
Abe made a snap decision. "Come in and have some coffee if you want. I'd love to talk, if it's not too awkward for you. If you'd like." The young man glanced uneasily at Gregory, then nodded.
"Right this way." Abe gave Gregory a reassuring look, then led Edward indoors, carrying the box of Dolly Parton things, keeping up a mild and harmless stream of chatter, hoping to set the young man at ease. Intuition told him Edward knew a great deal more than he did about Lenard's death—but also that the young man was near his breaking point, and if anyone was going to understand how he felt, Abe was likely to be high on the list.
"You mustn't mind my mess," said Abe. "I'm just chopping vegetables. I'm terribly domestic. Gregory loves my cooking." He said it very firmly, looking at Edward, one brow rising.
Edward looked down at his lap, twiddling his fingers nervously. He didn't rise to the comment, but it had clearly hit home. Lenard had never been satisfied with anyone's cooking, ever. Even Michelin-starred restaurants were imperfect to him. Pity the poor boyfriend who tried to impress him with a lovingly home-cooked meal!
"I suppose you wonder why I dropped by instead of mailing your things." He broke off and passed a hand across his forehead, jumping a little as Gregory's shadow crossed the threshold, and he was there suddenly, stepping indoors.
"Everything okay?" asked Gregory, moving to the sink to wash his hands.
"Everything's fine, dear." Abe touched Gregory's lower back, exchanging a look with him, passing his understanding of the situation to Gregory with eye contact and body language alone. It was this: he had a handle on the situation, he preferred to talk to the young man alone, and everything was fine. Also, he wasn't sure if this part came through or not, but that he rather pitied the young man, and that Edward wasn't likely to talk if Gregory stuck around, because Edward found him intimidating, even frightening.
Gregory nodded once, then moved away, shaking his hands off before reaching for a tea towel and drying his big, strong, work-roughened hands on it. "I'll be outside if you need me." He snatched a couple of strips of bell pepper, and Abe swatted at his hands, more playfully than in earnest.
"Hey, now," said Gregory mildly. "I grew them."
"And you'll eat them for lunch—cooked."
"Raw food is healthier." Gregory crunched decisively, grinning at him, then made his way outside, ambling and relaxed. He gave Abe a wink. "I'll grow more."
Abe didn't miss the way Edward stayed tensed until Gregory had left the house. He seemed to have been holding his breath, or ready to run.
Abe busied himself making coffee for his impromptu guest, not looking at Edward. "He's a very good boyfriend, you know. They do exist."
Edward's laugh was sharp and bitter. "I'd left Len. Naturally, the police have had questions for me." He squeezed his knees with his hands till the knuckles went white. "I did not kill him, though, and I never would have!"
"I believe you," said Abe, because he did. He moved to sit down opposite Edward, facing him with a sympathetic expression. He moved the box slightly. "I'm very grateful. I thought he trashed all of these," said Abe.
"Isn't that just like him, to keep something he knows you love and let you think it's destroyed forever?" His mouth twisted into a tight, bitterly hurt look, and his eyes held something like torment, a very bleak look. "He sent my cat to the shelter—I only just found her. Can you believe that? He—he told me she slipped out. At the time, I was apartment hunting, working on moving out, and—and he let my cat escape. Except he didn't, he sent her off to the pound on purpose, to be murdered if someone didn't adopt her!"
"That's monstrous," said Abe, shocked despite himself. Of course if he really thought about it, he could easily imagine Lenard doing such a thing, but it wouldn't have occurred to him that anyone would even think of such a cruel thing to do, much less go through with it. But if anyone could, it would be Lenard.
Edward hugged his arms around himself, his mouth trembling a little. "I only found her because my friend volunteers there and she recognized my baby girl." Tears welled up in his eyes. "And now Len's dead. Isn't it awful? I'll never get to tell him what I think of him!" His voice was a sob at this point, and he was a sh
aking wreck.
Abe closed the distance between them, enfolding the younger man in his arms. He didn't have any words of comfort—he wasn't sure there were any for this situation—but he could hold Edward, and he did. The young man cried with silent, wracking sobs like he'd needed a hug, needed to get the words out. Surely he had a friend to cry with, didn't he? Maybe not, if Lenard had followed that familiar pattern of isolating his boyfriends and grinding them down emotionally till he was all they had left.
"I wouldn't have killed him, even if I'd known what he did," said Edward at last, when he was done crying, wiping his eyes awkwardly and sniffling.
Abe offered him tissues and sympathy. "Of course not."
"The police think I had a motive even without that, though, because I inherit quite a bit from him." He looked at Abe, guilt-stricken. "Isn't it awful? I want to absolutely hate him, but I feel so guilty knowing I have the apartment and most of his money. I can't believe he left me so much and didn't even tell me. I mean, it would be more like him to hold it over my head, wouldn't it?"
"Well," said Abe, thinking about it, "I hope you won't feel too guilty, because I think he probably just recently changed his will to leave you so much."
Edward gasped. "Yes! How did you guess? Are you clairvoyant?"
Abe hid his smile. "Hardly. It's the sort of thing he would do, though—has done," he admitted. "He tried to guilt me back into his life once with something like the same trick. I know it probably doesn't do you any good to hear he's done the same with others—"
"No, no, it helps! To know I'm not the only one that—that he fooled." His voice faltered, and he looked down.
Abe squeezed his hand tactfully. He wondered if there was a good, subtle way to suggest that Edward use some of that money to get the counseling he was likely to need very badly. It was clear Lenard had left some marks on his psyche.
Poison at the Bake Sale Page 10