"But of course the police simply see that he had changed his will recently, we were on the outs, and now he's dead. Of course they think I'm a murderer. I wish that at least my own parents didn't suspect the worst! Oh, they haven't come right out and said it, but—but there's a tone." He looked thoroughly miserable at the thought.
Then, biting his lip, visibly pulling himself together, he gestured awkwardly to the box. "I ran across this while I was trying to organize things—after. Send anything important to his family, that sort of thing. I wanted to return these because—I thought they must mean a lot to you, or he wouldn't have kept them from you."
"Thank you," said Abe sincerely. "It means a great deal. I'm glad to talk to you, too. I'm sorry that he—" He hesitated, wishing he knew how to navigate these waters better.
"I wouldn't have believed you, you know," said Edward, looking at him with far too much awareness in his eyes. "I wouldn't have believed anyone who said he was less than perfect. Sometimes I—I still think it was me who was the problem." He looked away, wiping his eyes again. "Is it awful that I still miss him, a bit? In some ways, I mean."
"No, it's not awful at all. I was devastated. I suppose I still held out hope he'd be sorry someday, and we could make up and be friends. I hate having enemies and—and things of that nature." He thought that Edward was a very sweet young man who would understand that better than Gregory did.
He wondered if it would be taken wrong if he said that Edward reminded of himself when he was younger, then decided not to chance it. The things he saw in Edward, and Lenard had clearly seen as well, might not be the most complimentary to the young man right now, when he was already feeling vulnerable. Pretty, pliant, not very self-confident, and with a kind heart, maybe even a little too kind.
The conversation, though emotionally raw, was going very well indeed. Edward had clearly needed someone to talk to who understood. While they were dancing around the specifics of what Lenard might have done that made staying with him unhealthy and unsafe, they both clearly came at it from the same deep understanding of the broken and abusive reality of having a relationship with Lenard.
"I don't even know how he was poisoned, or how soon before he crashed," said Abe. "Will you tell me, if you can stand to?"
Edward grimaced and shut his eyes. "Something he ate. They let that much slip. But they haven't told me what the poison was. I hadn't been near him, so they couldn't pin it on me." He shuddered, a whole-body disgust. "I had to identify him at the morgue before they decided I was the main suspect. He looked awful. It was horrible."
I wonder if it was the most convenient way to murder him, or if someone really hated him and wanted him to hurt a great deal, thought Abe. It was a grisly thought, to think of someone being either cold enough to use poison to get rid of an enemy conveniently, or hateful enough to want him to choose the method that would make him suffer the most.
"He drove off a back road, hit a tree, and was found a while later, already dead. They don't know if he'd have survived the poison, whatever it was, but apparently it affected him enough that he crashed and died." He shuddered again, wrapping his arms around his slim frame. "It's just so awful! He had Starbucks coffee with him, and apparently he'd eaten things as well. They thought I could've poisoned his coffee, or something he'd eaten. They've finally eliminated that possibility, since we weren't living together and I could prove I hadn't been near him. They traced where he ate breakfast—a restaurant—nothing from here that could've been tainted, and nothing I touched. So it could've been at the bake sale, I suppose." He looked at Abe shyly. "Did anyone hate him there?"
"Me, my boyfriend, and my friend Ollie." He laughed shortly, bitterly. "But none of us had poison, and I'm pretty sure if they thought we had any access to anything he'd eaten, we'd be locked up or something." He shuddered as well. "They were suspicious enough on the questioning just from our dislike of the fellow!"
Edward nodded. "Well, I'm sure he had other enemies."
"I can't even imagine him eating something from a bake sale," admitted Abe. He thought about it a moment, then shook his head. "It's all so strange." He looked at Edward thoughtfully. "Would you...that is, if you're not busy...would you like to help me look into it?"
Edward's face registered surprise. "Are you investigating? Really?"
Abe shrugged. "I wanted to look into it. To be honest, it's cast quite the pall over our lives. I'd like to know what happened so we can put it behind us once and for all. I really care about Gregory, and I don't want Lenard to be able to ruin this for me, too, from beyond the grave. I mean, it's really rather dreadful of him to die right after arguing with my Gregory, wouldn't you say?"
Edward's eyes gleamed. "How thoughtless!"
"I'd say he planned it that way, but I'm sure he wouldn't poison himself, not to teach both of us and everyone else in the world a lesson!"
"No, he loved being alive," agreed Edward. "And if he didn't, he'd pick a less unpleasant method, I'm sure."
They both nodded, thoughtful and a little grim. "It's certainly a grisly topic," said Abe. He got up to fetch them both coffee. "Would you like to stay for lunch, to end on a more pleasant note?"
"No, I—I have places to be." He looked down, squeezing his hands between his suddenly jittery knees. Then he looked up again, all long lashes and Bambi eyes. "But I would like to help. If we can find out who killed him, it'll—well, it'll be so much easier, I think, to move on, and—and be okay. Despite everything, I didn't want him dead. Suppose whoever killed him had a grudge against me as well? I don't mind telling you, I'll sleep a lot easier when I know I'm not the next target!"
They drank some coffee, exchanged numbers and made plans to meet up, and discussed nothing else of importance before Edward took his leave. It had obviously been an emotional time for him, and Abe decided to put off till later the suggestion of counseling. Edward seemed to have a wise head on his shoulders—even if he'd earned it the hard way—and would likely think of it on his own. If not, Abe would bring it up tactfully when the situation wasn't quite so emotional.
After Edward had left, Abe told Gregory all about it. He was too excited not to. It was something he needed to share.
"You're a man of mysteries," said Gregory, eyeing the cardboard box. "I didn't even know you liked Dolly."
Abe laughed uneasily. "Yes, I let Lenard make me think it was stupid of me. Isn't that silly?"
"Well, you don't have to hide what you like from me," said Gregory, still sounding a little hurt. "Even if I don't love all the same things, I won't mock you for it."
"I know. I'm glad. Truly." He smiled awkwardly, but he meant it. "Maybe I'll even display some of these, if it won't bother you." Then he continued the story. It took a while.
"Looks as though you've got yourself an investigation pal after all," said Gregory when he finished. "Should I be worried?"
Abe laughed a little giddily. "As if anyone could ever compete with you, Hot Stuff."
Gregory's smile looked pleased as he sat back, his cheeks turning faintly pinker under the compliment.
"Isn't it unnerving that I thought someone would be poisoned at the bake sale, and they were," continued Abe. "It's almost too odd to be a coincidence. Do you think I'm psychic?"
The smile Gregory tried to hide was answer enough. "Well, perhaps you mentioned the idea to somebody. Do you recall?"
Abe shook his head, bewildered. "I was a nervous wreck, but I don't think—" He broke off. "Winnie and Mary knew I was uneasy. I suppose they could have mentioned it to someone. But I didn't mention poison to anyone but you. Did you tell anyone?"
"No, I don't go around discussing you with anyone. Our business is our business."
"Well, I would agree. Not that I think anyone would poison Lenard because they got the idea from me! That's just silly. Oh, but I may have mentioned to Edward that you're a wonderful boyfriend. I like to motivate the youth, you know, to find better life partners for themselves."
Gregory took Abe in hi
s arms unexpectedly and gave him a sound kiss.
Abe's laugh was breathless but pleased. "What did I say—or do?" He smiled coyly at Gregory, ready and willing to be kissed again and made even more breathless—and then, perhaps, if Gregory wasn't too busy with his garden, why, Abe didn't have anything to do after lunch that couldn't be put off for a bit.
"Life partners. I like that." Gregory's eyes gleamed.
"Well, I meant it." Warts and all. He was starting to believe they could get through anything, that they'd be able to keep growing together, rather than apart. He was starting to believe there was no expiration date on this relationship, the best and healthiest he'd had in his life.
"Got any plans this afternoon?" asked Gregory, arching a brow sexily.
Abe bit his lip, shook his head, and wrapped his arms around Gregory's neck, moving in for the second kiss.
Chapter twelve
Abe drove into the city to meet Edward for coffee and a chat. He thought the younger man would be more comfortable on his home turf, especially if that meant not having to be on guard around Gregory. It could have been insulting, how jumpy he was—as if he thought anyone Abe dated was automatically dangerous, even abusive—but Abe didn't think that was reasonable. He'd been with Lenard long enough to know that an unhealthy relationship with the man could really warp your perceptions of people and make it hard to trust.
Indeed, Edward looked a bit calmer and more polished today, but Abe sensed that it was a sheen, that he'd pulled himself together and was showing his calmest side rather than that he was actually okay or over it in any way.
He was dressed in holographic silvery sneakers, white tennis shorts that showed off his tanned legs, and a slim-fitted, pale green t-shirt with purple monstera leaf art on it that showed off just enough of his slim, well-formed upper body to look both perfectly casual and perfectly beautiful. When Edward took off his sunglasses, Abe saw he was wearing a touch of eye makeup and, unless Abe missed his guess, some under-eye concealer as well. But despite his effortlessly composed look, he still had a pale, exhausted look to him, like perhaps he hadn't slept in days.
"Gregory didn't want me to come," Abe admitted.
Edward raised sophisticated-looking, perfectly primped eyebrows and took a sip of his iced coffee. "Oh?"
"He thought it would put me back a few steps, talking about Lenard. I'm in a better place overall, but sometimes I still have anxiety."
Some of Edward's pristine exterior melted. He looked down at the table, tapping his fingernails restlessly. "Yeah, he—yeah." He cleared his throat. "I suppose in a way I'm glad it's not just me. Is that an awful thing to say?"
"No," said Abe. "Lenard and I were over long before you were in the picture." He sometimes thought if he could go back and do it all again, he'd make the right choices this time. But then he thought, How? I only learned so much because of going through all that. I wasn't born knowing any of it. Of course, some people did manage to live their lives without getting into abusive relationships, but he'd been too ignorant and vulnerable and didn't have the life experience or even awareness to protect himself. He sometimes thought that if he'd grown up with more loving parents, or had more support when he was dealing with the whole "being gay and I can't really hide it" thing in what was a difficult time to be out, maybe it would have been easier. But maybe not. He'd truly loved Lenard for a very long time, and even the thought of giving up on the relationship had felt awful and wrong.
But in the end, he hadn't been able to save Lenard. He just had to get out and survive and rebuild his own life. Though he was mostly stronger than ever, there were still moments when it felt like that process of building and healing would never quite be over—there would always be echoes.
"I suppose it's too much to ask you to look through some of his things with me, then?" Edward looked at him without much hope.
Abe hesitated. He knew for sure Gregory wouldn't like it—and he wasn't at all sure it was a good idea. But the cat-like curiosity and a need to figure out why Lenard was dead had acceptance on the tip of his tongue.
"I don't know. Perhaps," Abe hedged. He took another sip of coffee, trying to cover his nerves.
"Well," said Edward. "The police aren't telling me anything, of course, but I seem to be off the main suspect list. If they haven't been around your neighborhood much—or have they?—maybe they're focusing on his family or work colleagues."
"He's not in touch with any of his family, is he?" The last Abe knew, Lenard had been completely estranged. That had made abandoning him feel even more awful.
"No, his brother and sister have been in touch with him again. They've had some sort of reconciliation." His mouth tightened. "At least, I never met them, but—" It clearly still rankled that Lenard hadn't let him meet the family. He tapped his fingers at a slightly faster pace. "I don't suppose they were enough in his life to kill him, even if they wanted to."
"Well, I'm sure the police will talk with them," said Abe awkwardly. "I hate to say we should just trust the police to do everything, though. There certainly are...times when they don't manage to solve crimes, or frankly, even bother with them much. Do I think this is something they'll sweep under the rug, or let get buried under paperwork, or ignore because the victim was gay and not a very nice man?" He took a sip of coffee to cover his nerves, and shook his head quickly. "I don't think that. But I also don't think they know everything. For instance, could they possibly know just how...well...unpleasant Lenard can—could—be? I'm sorry to speak of the dead like that, but it has to be said."
Edward hid a small smile, shaking his head. "You can say what you like about him. I'll know what you mean. You've more right than I do. You were married to him for years. And don't think he didn't throw that in my face often enough. My husband used to do this or that...perfect Abe..." He shook his head, mouth twisting. "Of course he was just being manipulative. If you two were so happy together, you'd have been together forever."
"Rose-colored glasses—or just being a jerk," suggested Abe. "Goodness knows, nothing I ever did suited him at the time." He brought it back around to the point. "Anyway, Lenard could be perfectly dreadful. I have no problem believing someone would want to kill him, even someone who barely knew him or just met him, if he stepped on their toes hard enough, and they were a dangerous sort of person anyway. And who carries poison around if they're not dangerous?"
"We still don't know how he was poisoned or when," said Edward, but he looked relieved at the thought of a stranger murdering his ex-boyfriend. Why? Did someone he know worry him—someone he didn't want to be guilty?
Abe was no stranger to that feeling himself, but there was no missing the look of relief Edward had at the thought, as if that offered a way out. Abe would have to be very dull-witted indeed not to make a note of that. Edward had a suspect in mind whom he very much didn't want to be guilty. Perhaps a new man in his life, or one of his friends or family members who had found out how Lenard had really treated him and wanted revenge?
Abe couldn't seriously consider the possibility of Edward as the murderer. He was far too familiar with how beaten-down a relationship with Lenard could leave a man, in both senses of the word. As well, if Edward was even remotely culpable, seeking out Abe and wanting to talk about it wouldn't make sense. He'd be too busy keeping his head down and trying to cover his tracks—or even making a quick run for some country that didn't offer extradition, depending on how much he could stick, and how bad his nerves were. Just from the look of him, Abe could tell they were pretty bad.
Now, if he'd found out about what Lenard had done to his cat before the man was dead...but no. He still couldn't picture this young man as a murderer. If Edward ever snapped, it would be messy, but it wouldn't be dangerous. He'd probably scream, cry a lot and try to throw his first successful punch. Yes, that was a stereotypical thing to think, but it was how Abe saw the younger man, because he saw so many similarities to himself. And that was the kind of man he was. He could never murder someone—but
he could sure make a scene, if he snapped.
He didn't care if he should give all suspects the same weight; he wasn't the police. He knew what his gut said, and there was no way this young man had anything at all to do with Lenard's suspicious death. But he thinks someone he cares about did. Abe had been around long enough to trust his gut about most things at this point. He was sure of these two things, but wasn't about to say any of it aloud just now.
Besides, even if Edward suspected someone, it didn't mean he was right. During the last murder Abe had been dragged unwittingly into, he'd nervously suspected at least half of his friends and neighbors. Everyone seemed to have a motive, because the murder victim had been such a nasty person. That might be all this was now—Edward worriedly suspecting someone he cared about, because Lenard had been good at making enemies everywhere. But it also might have some truth to it. Perhaps Edward knew something, or perhaps his subconscious had put together clues that showed a real possibility of someone he cared about being a murderer.
Whatever the case, Abe could guarantee the young man would never tell the police his suspicions unless he had no other choice. He wouldn't want to deal with them any more than he had to, and he certainly wouldn't throw someone he cared about under the bus.
No, but he might give Abe a hint of his suspicions if Abe timed things right, and then Abe could look into it more discretely. Whatever the case, it would eventually be settled if looked at more closely, whereas keeping doubts to himself would just fester and perhaps ruin a relationship over time.
Abe stirred his coffee. "I suppose I could take a bit more time and go back to your place. I can't promise I'll be much use looking through things—for clues." He smiled. "Or that I'll be able to stay long. You must remember it's been quite some time since I was familiar with his life or habits. But I don't mind trying."
Edward bit his lip. "Are you sure? If your boyfriend thinks..."
"Gregory supports my decisions. He just worries about me."
Poison at the Bake Sale Page 11