Stone Cold Foxe

by Haley Walsh

  “I know all that. I do. Well…what about you and Dave? Do you think you’ll ever get married?”

  “Oh, hell no!”

  “What?” He sputtered. “Then what is all this sage advice: ‘It’s not the end, it’s the beginning, blah, blah, blah’?”

  “I’m not like you, Skyler. I don’t need the trappings. Dave and I are perfectly happy how things are.”

  “You still live in separate houses.”

  “And we’re fine with that. Honey, we have busy, busy lives.”

  “Then why are you preaching to me about commitment and beginnings?”

  “Because it’s true. And Dave and I are committed. Just differently. We love each other. But we love our separate lives, too.”

  “How come I couldn’t—”

  “Honey, you know why. Because Keith wants it. And let’s face it, you get all soft and chewy inside when he merely looks at you.”

  “I do not,” he said without any heat to it.

  “You so do. And he wants it. The white picket fence, the wedding, the rings, the happily ever after. And I think deep down in your heart of hearts you do, too. Or you would never have agreed to this.”

  “Well…”

  “And look at your parents. A happy ending too. You’ve got it all, Skyler. Run with it. Not away from it.”

  “I guess.”

  “And it’s gonna be a helluva par-tay!”

  He’d gotten the DJ from Trixx to play at the reception. It was going to be a par-tay. He smiled. “I think it’s going to be fun.”

  “It is! Now you go back to doing teacher stuff and I’ll return to computer stuff and we’ll all be in Scotland before ye. Tally-ho! Hey, ‘Tally-Ho.’ That would make a great drag name!”

  “Good-bye, Jamie. And…thanks.”

  “I am here to serve.”

  The phone clicked off and Skyler looked at it for a moment before stuffing it back into his pants pocket. Why was he still stressing about it anyway? He’d thought he’d reconciled himself to it months ago. It was just the whole commitment issue in front of everyone that was still a little scary. Saying it. In front of his mother and his relatives. And Keith’s friend Tamika there, being the officiant, asking up front and with that brash voice if Skyler meant it. He did, didn’t he? Of course, he did! He loved Keith. God, how he loved him. And he had asked. He had. It wasn’t fair to back out if you’re the one who asked.

  “Sidney’s right,” he muttered. “Sometimes I am too stupid to live.”

  The lunch bell rang. “No more fretting,” he promised himself, shuffling his papers away, and getting the tests out for the class.

  Two more classes passed by in a whirr and then his sixth period students started coming in. Rick let a student from the last period leave before he sauntered forward with all the brazenness that had gotten him by for his two years in high school and probably all the years before. He wore a black guayabera shirt with a gold chain at his throat over his tan skin. His black Porsche sunglasses hung on his ears backwards at the back of his head. He swung his arms casually, clutching a notebook in one hand, and smoothly shedding his backpack and catching it with the other.

  Skyler marveled at the boy. He wondered what it would be like having such ease with oneself as Rick seemed to have. To be so free with who he was at that age. Skyler would have killed to have that freedom.

  “Hey, Mr. Foxe,” he said in a slight Hispanic accent. “Only a few days left of freedom. Are you nervous?” He slid into his seat and stretched his legs out before him.

  “I’m not nervous,” yammered Skyler. “What makes you think I’d be nervous? Do I look nervous?”

  “Whoa, whoa.” He held up his hands and looked around the mostly empty room. “Of course you’re not nervous.”

  “No.” Skyler straightened his tie and pulled at his shirt to straighten it. “I have no reason to be nervous.”

  Amber bounded in holding Ravi’s hand. He let her go to sit in his own desk a few desks down. “Hi, Mr. Foxe!” she chirped. “I bet you’re nervous. It’s only a few days away.”

  “I’m not nervous!” he said a little too loudly.

  Rick leaned over toward Amber. “He’s pretty nervous about it. Better go easy on him.”

  “Oh, Mr. Foxe. You don’t have anything to be nervous about. It’s only Mr. Fletcher. And you two are the perfect couple.”

  “O-kay, pop quiz!” he announced, turning his deeply reddening face away from the students as they filled the seats. Groans and eye rolls greeted that pronouncement, and some even tried to blame Amber.

  Heather and Drew came roaring in and split off to their desks, followed by Alex and Elei, race-walking toward the back of the room as the last bell rung.

  Tyler let his hand fall heavily to the desk. “Amber made us get a pop quiz,” he told the stragglers.

  “I did not! Mr. Foxe has his own schedule.”

  Skyler didn’t tell them that it was partly true that Amber made him do it. He just didn’t want to talk about the wedding, and he could tell that they were trying to stall and keep talking about it.

  “It’s an open-book quiz,” he relented, pulling out some Xeroxed pages, and handing stacks to each row. “It’s nothing that will kill you.”

  As soon as he said it he began to wonder again about the person who did want to kill him.

  “Here’s what we know,” said Sidney, sitting next to Mike on Skyler’s sofa. She laid out the file folder of papers and official forms. Skyler picked it up and looked at it. “Foxe, Skyler: Attempted Murder” it read on the tab in typewritten letters. Wow. That made it worse. That there was a file at the police station with those words on it. It made it far too real.

  Keith snatched it out of Skyler’s hands. “You can get into a lot of trouble having this outside the station,” he said.

  “So? Who’s gonna turn me in?” She took it out of his hands and laid it back on the coffee table, taking out some papers and photos and separating them. She pointed to a report. “No decent forensic information from the letter bomb. Although they’re still tracing where the C-4 might have come from. It’s the best lead we have. I was really hoping the bastard would have gotten sloppy on the bomb because he expected most of the evidence to be destroyed, but thanks to his incompetence, we’ve got the whole thing. And Skyler, too,” she added, patting his hand. “The neighbor’s security video is being scrutinized, but the quality is so crappy it’s barely worth it. Although, we were able to extrapolate height, weight, and general race—not African American, anyway. But not sex, though the suspect is tallish for a woman, average height if a man, and we weren’t able to discern any facial characteristics. So that’s a bit of a bust, too. But Mike came across something of interest.”

  Mike scooted forward, hands on his knees as he turned each to Skyler and Keith. “I decided to concentrate on Skyler’s Bug. Someone had to crawl under it to cut the brake line. They knew what they were doing there, but didn’t realize that the car wouldn’t move or start without the brakes being pumped. It’s not like in a TV show where the driver suddenly discovers he has no brakes while they’re going downhill. So our suspect is a little knowledgeable and still a little stupid. And they left some forensics behind. While under the car, they couldn’t help but rub their jacket against the underside of the Bug. After eliminating the guys who worked on your car, we got some threads from the hoodie we saw in the video. The FBI lab came back with a match to fibers found on a particular brand of hoodie that’s only sold at the University of Redlands.”

  “What? Some college kid is after me? I don’t even know anyone—”

  “Hold on, Skyler,” Mike went on. “Who knows if it’s a kid? It could be a professor. Or anyone just working there or anyone who’s a fan. The point is it’s new—not used—so it isn’t likely a hand-me-down or something from a thrift store. It’s something, anyway.”

  “Good work, detective,” said Keith.

  Mike sat back. “Thanks.”

  “So a hoodie from U o
f R,” said Skyler.

  “Yeah,” said Sidney. “It’s sparse but a lead nonetheless.”

  He nodded. “That’s good. That’s good, Mike. Thanks.”

  Mike gave him a thumbs up.

  “Anything else?”

  “I’ve gone through your computer emails,” said Sidney. “The older ones before you met Keith proved…interesting.” She waggled her brows.

  Skyler shifted and laughed uncomfortably. “Do I still have those?” he said as innocently as he could.

  “And your Grindr account was also—”

  “Ha! Sidney! I don’t have that anymore. I deleted the app!” He turned to a stern-faced Keith. “I deleted it a long time ago.”

  “Your FBI friends were able to retrieve it. Such colorful language. And some real hotties. Anyway, we’re keeping our eye on some of those guys. We’ll need you to fill us in on them. Some of the details about them. I take it you remember your hook-ups?”

  Painfully aware of Keith’s eyes on him, Skyler rubbed his face, trying to hide it. “Yeah,” he mumbled. Behind his hand, he pointed at Keith. “Later, okay?” he mouthed.

  “Okay. Oh, and we’ve been looking into all the people you’ve put in jail. You’ve been to a lot of trials lately, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah. I kept forgetting that they’d want me to show up as a witness. Mr. Sherman’s been a saint about it all.”

  There was a pause as they considered Mr. Sherman’s own involvement because of his son’s murder.

  “Was there anyone at the trial that might have threatened you, even in a subtle way? Passive aggressive stuff, too?”

  “I don’t recall.”

  “Okay, just checking. But if you ever remember something, no matter how trivial, let us know.” She glanced at Keith. “How’re you holding up, Big Guy?”

  How was he holding up? thought Skyler. What about Skyler? But then he saw Keith’s face. He was obviously worried sick, but he hadn’t let it show in front of Skyler before. Yet as soon as he realized he had let slip his vulnerable side, he tugged the mask back in place again. “I’m fine. Keeping an eye on this guy.” He grabbed Skyler and pulled him close.

  Poor Keith. Skyler was scared but it was only a sort of buzz in the background. His anger often won out, anger at some turd trying to ruin his life. But for Keith, he probably worried every moment that Skyler might be taken from him.

  Skyler put his hand on Keith’s thigh and squeezed. I’m still here. Nothing’s gonna happen to me. I love you.

  Keith turned his attention to Skyler. “And we’re getting married Saturday.”

  Sidney smiled and gathered the file, trying to hide it under her satchel. “That is for sure. And we have a date Thursday night with the girls. Your bachelor party.”

  “Oh, do we have to do that, Sidney? I think Keith—”

  “Keith can have his own party. But Trixx wants to give you a send-off. If we don’t do it there, they’ll just bring it here.”

  “What do you know? Trixx it is!”

  They all rose and moved toward the door. She hugged him. “Don’t worry, Skyboy. We’ll get this guy.”

  “I know you will. Thanks for all you’ve done. And you, too, Mike.” He hugged the tall, Filipino detective.

  “Don’t worry, Skyler,” he said, drawing back. “We’re closing in.”

  It didn’t much sound like that to him. A couple of fibers that led to a U of Redlands jacket? Hardly a tight dragnet, but he didn’t want to say that out loud.

  Once Sidney and Mike left, the apartment fell to uncomfortable silence. “I’m sorry this is happening. We should both be more excited by this weekend.”

  Keith visibly relaxed. He moved forward and slipped his arms around Skyler. “I’m still pretty excited. I’m marrying you. I really am.”

  “You really are.”

  He leaned down to kiss Skyler. The stubble from Keith’s scruff, the subtle notes of his cologne, soothed in their familiarity. They rubbed noses for a moment before Keith pulled his face away, but not his embrace. He held Skyler loosely, casually. His affection was easily readable in his eyes. “This is us. We don’t have to worry about anything else. Just us.”

  “I’m not worried.” He tightened his hold on Keith, feeling the muscles under Keith’s shirt flex and constrict. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than marry you.” And he meant it. With Keith looking at him like that, with Keith’s arms around him, it was absolutely true.

  Keith smiled. “Nothing you’d rather do? I can think of at least one thing…”

  Skyler smiled, too. He slipped out of Keith’s hold but grabbed his hand, dragging him toward the bedroom. “Let’s see if we’re both on the same page for that. I predict we are.”

  Chapter Eight

  RIGHT AFTER WORK, SKYLER GOT THE ITCH TO DO something, investigate something somewhere. And since the only clue they had was the jacket, he didn’t feel there was any other choice but to get over to the university and check out the bookstore.

  He hadn’t been back since graduating two years ago, and going up the drive on Colton Avenue was as familiar as his own apartment. He’d lived on campus, even though it was only seven miles from his mother’s house. He had sworn up and down to his mother that it would be for the best so he could get in some deep studying. But what he had wanted most was to study his sexuality, something he didn’t feel comfortable doing still living at home. He had gone a little crazy in that department but he had managed to do his homework and projects while staying up late, discovering Trixx, getting laid, and making friends. He’d met Philip there after all, and many more men before he’d gotten his degree. Good times.

  The sky was blue without a hint of smog, and the mountains were clearly visible, sitting as a ragged blue crest beyond the tall stalks of palm trees; as perfect a day as California made them. There was the administration building with the words “Redlands” done in carefully coifed topiary, and in the distance, the memorial chapel, looking like Independence Hall in Philadelphia with its colonial architecture and clock tower.

  He found a visitor parking lot, a decent hike to the bookstore, but he hoofed it with no problem, eyes scanning the campus with students riding bikes and hiking from here to there, backpacks heavy on their backs.

  He’d worked in the bookstore for a number of years while going to school. He’d had his scholarships, and the help of his old friend, mentor, and boss Lester Huxley. He’d worked for Lester in the summer at the Lincoln Shrine in Redlands, even up until three months ago when Lester, too, was murdered…

  Jeez, for a smallish town, we sure have our share of intrigue, he mused.

  Walking through into the bookstore, it was definitely a sense of déjà vu. There were the walls of mugs, plush bulldog mascots, t-shirts, and maroon hoodies, along with the shelves full of over-priced text books.

  He couldn’t resist running his hands over the hoodies with their white silk-screened school logo. Who was trying to kill him? A student? But he wouldn’t even know any students here anymore. Some kind of prank? That was pretty heavy duty, especially with the letter bomb.

  “Skyler Foxe!”

  He turned. A plump woman in her mid-forties, stood with arms akimbo, with a ridiculously wide smile on her face. “Are you still looking for a job?”

  He enclosed her in his arms. “Debbie! Oh, man. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Still managing this joint. And look at you. Always cute as a button. Please tell me you’re teaching somewhere?”

  “I am. My bookstore days are over. I’m teaching at James Polk.”

  “No shit. That’s your old high school, isn’t it?”

  “Yup. It was a miracle but there was actually an opening. I’m in my second year.”

  “That is so awesome, Sky. I’m so glad to hear it. So what brings you here? Are you applying for a professorship?”

  “Oh, no way. I’m pretty happy with my high school kids.”

  “I’ll remind you of that in five years. What are you doing her
e, then?”

  “Well…” What was he to say? He hadn’t anything to go on but the hoodie. So tell me, Debbie, who bought a hoodie in the last few weeks? Just hand over the thousands of names. “It’s kind of a…I really don’t know how to say it.”

  Her smile faded. “Is something wrong? Look.” She checked her watch. “I’ve got my dinner break coming up. Let’s head over to the Bulldog Cafe. Give me less than five.” She scurried off and disappeared behind the checkout counters to the back room.

  Skyler took those minutes to look around, to gauge the students there, some little older than his own kids at James Polk. Going to college had been his freedom to explore his sexuality, his moment to finally find himself. He had nothing but good memories of the place. He wanted to tell those students around him to grab life by the balls, to take chances, to see the world differently…but he didn’t want to come off as a crazy person. He supposed not all of them lived such sheltered lives at home as he had.

  Briefly, he wondered what Keith’s life in college had been like. But, of course, he’d gotten a look at that, what with his old boyfriend Ethan and that woman Laurie Henderson with whom he’d slept that one drunken night. He shivered. Maybe that was more than enough to know about Keith’s past. Except that he recalled the stories Sheryl and Tamika had shared. It wasn’t all bad, he supposed.

  Debbie popped up beside him. “Ready?”

  He walked with her across the campus to the café, marveling at the improvements in the décor and menu. He guessed a lot could happen in the intervening years.

  She ordered a taco salad and Skyler grabbed a yogurt, just to hold him till Sidney snatched him away for his bachelor party.

  Debbie watched him steadily as she picked at her salad with a plastic fork. “Something about you, Sky. Definitely a new kind of confidence. And something else I’m having a hard time identifying.”

  “Oh, well…it could be that I’m getting married. This Saturday, in fact. And now I feel stupid that I didn’t invite you. Will you come? Are you available?”

  Her fork stopped in mid-rise to her mouth. “You’re getting married?”