So This is Christmas: The Adrien English Mysteries

by Josh Lanyon

  “I’m just going to talk to him,” Kevin muttered.

  “Goddamn it.” The very quietness of Jake’s voice made me wince.

  “Look, I know. Is there any chance you could—”

  “No,” he said. “There is not a chance in hell. It’s wall-to-wall cars out here. Don’t—do not—get in the middle of that.”

  “I’m hoping to be the voice of reason.”

  “I’d prefer that you were the voice out of range. Way out of range.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

  His silence was what they call in books “resounding.”

  “More stupid,” I amended.

  “Adrien—”

  “I’ll be careful, and I’ll keep you posted.” I clicked off.

  Sometimes you have to help people avoid saying things they’ll regret.

  * * * * *

  Terrill lived in the Thousand Oaks gated community of Eagle’s Nest.

  It was not so gated that the security guard wouldn’t let us in, but Kevin did have to sign a clipboard and leave his license number. Presumably he’d been doing this on a regular basis if he was “staking out” Terrill, but the white barrier bar raised, and we sped off down a wide, sunny street lined with palm trees and elaborate holiday exhibits that made the place look a bit like Las Vegas off-hours. A lot more reindeer, though.

  Most of the homes had been built in the late nineties and went for around a million dollars. They weren’t mansions, but they were very nice, and Terrill Arbuckle lived in one of the nicest of the nice.

  There were no holiday decorations at Casa Arbuckle, but there was a brand new, shiny Porsche Cayman sitting in the driveway.

  “What makes you think he’s at home on a Wednesday?” I asked, following Kevin up the curving stone steps that led to the Mediterranean-style front yard. “He’s probably at work.”

  “Arbuckle Industries is closed the week before and after Christmas,” Kevin said.

  He marched up to the glossy brick-red door and pressed the doorbell.

  “Remember,” I said. “You just want to talk to him. You don’t want to put his b—”

  The door opened immediately, which took us both by surprise.

  Terrill wore a brown leather jacket and was clearly on his way out to the Christmas-red Porsche.

  His glance moved from Kevin to me without recognition.

  In fairness, I don’t think I’d have recognized him either. He was still blond, still handsome in a blunt, square-jawed way, but he’d filled out, thickened. His features seemed blurred, coarser. He looked a lot like his dad—and every other TV caricature of an evil corporate executive.

  “Yes?” His voice was deeper, but I recognized that note of perennial impatience.

  Kevin squared his shoulders and said, “You don’t know me. I’m Ivor’s partner. Kevin.”

  Terrill’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

  “We want to ask you some questions,” Kevin said.

  Terrill flashed a quick look at me, no doubt wondering where I came into this—I was wondering the same thing. He said, “I don’t have anything to say to you. My family has nothing to say to you.”

  That was good old Terrill. Never one to waste time on tact or diplomacy.

  I said, “Would it hurt to talk to him?”

  “Why should I? I don’t know him. I don’t know you. Why would I want to—”

  “Actually, you do know me. We went to high school together. We were partners on the tennis team for a couple of years. And I know Kevin. So could you just take a minute to answer—”

  Terrill stared at me. His expression altered. “English?” he said in disbelief. He looked genuinely flabbergasted. Did he think I’d died?

  It was sort of weird hearing him say my name. I had never liked Terrill, but I realized now that I had unconsciously been a bit attracted to him. Or rather to traits that I now found attractive in Jake.

  “That’s right, Arbuckle. The Ghost of High School Past. Okay? So you know me, my mother knows your mother, this is all kosher. Answer the guy’s questions, and we can go on our merry way.”

  Terrill was still staring at me like I was indeed a ghost. He said, “Don’t tell me you’re a faggot too?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re not a faggot?” I returned in equal amazement.

  See, this is the kind of boyish raillery you’re supposed to grow out of, and I’m not proud that I immediately reverted to type. Although it was a pretty good shot, and it hit him right where it hurt the most. He went red, and then he went redder.

  It wasn’t productive, though, and it got less productive when Kevin shouted, “I want to know what you did to Ivor!”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Terrill roared back. “What I did to— How fucking dare you?”

  Impulse control had never been his strength—on or off the court—and nothing had changed. He shoved Kevin, who staggered back a couple of steps, but then charged forward again.

  “The hell, you two.” I lunged, trying to get between them.

  Not all instinct is good instinct. Standing between two muscular males trying to pulverize each other is never a safe place to be, and I was pretty sure I was going to get punched in the face, at the least—which would not be nearly as painful as listening to what Jake would have to say about this.

  “Are you assholes kidding me?” I gasped as we bear-hugged our way around Terrill’s doorstep.

  “What did you do to him?” Kevin kept yelling. Mostly in my ear.

  “You come here and accuse me of hurting my brother? My own brother?” Terrill yelled back. Mostly in my face.

  “This isn’t helping!” I also yelled. To anyone who would listen. Which was nobody.

  I think it probably would have ended with all three of us falling off the door stoop, cannon-balling down the driveway, barreling down the street, and winding up at the guardhouse—and eventually in jail—but rescue arrived in the form of the neighborhood security cruiser.

  Three short whoops of a very loud siren had Terrill and Kevin breaking their death-grip on each other—well, mostly on me—and retreating to opposite sides of the small Cyprian oasis front yard.

  “You’re the last person who saw him.” Kevin was still ranting. “I know you did something to him.”

  “You’re crazy,” Terrill snarled back. “He was trying to get away from you.”

  “We’re leaving,” I called to the rent-a-cop, who had climbed out of his car and was trying to figure out how to undo the side guard on his holster.

  “Time to go.” I grabbed Kevin by the back of his collar and steered him toward his Jeep.

  He didn’t fight me, didn’t protest, stumbled along silently, and I realized he was crying or close to it.

  I was sorry for him, but I couldn’t find any words of comfort. For either of us.

  Chapter Nine

  “I thought my being there would help defuse the situation.”

  “Fine.” Jake took a time-out in his pacing up and down. Although, it was more like circling. Like the room wasn’t big enough for him. Or maybe for both of us. “Next time, you leave the defusing to the bomb squad. You leave it to me. I don’t care who you leave it to, but you stay out of it. You’re doing all you need to do. I don’t want you any more involved than you are.”

  Two hours after the impromptu brawl at Terrill’s, I was in Jake’s office—sitting on his desk, to be precise—for our debriefing. Also known as getting chewed out. The part that really hurt was I knew Jake was mostly in the right. “Come off it. You couldn’t get over there in time, and there wasn’t any need anyway.”

  “Adrien—”

  “I’m not talking about running my own investigation. I know these people. Sort of. I thought I could be of use—”

  Yeah, not so much. Although it might have been worse if Kevin had gone on his own. I wasn’t sure.

  Jake cut in, “You know why not. Because during the past six mont
hs you’ve had a couple of heart attacks and you’ve had open heart surgery.”

  “They weren’t really heart attacks. It was just getting shot—”

  Jake said, “Yes. You were shot, and you suffered a series of small heart attacks. Right? So no bullshit about it.”

  “Right,” I said very quietly. Weird how my chest tightened hearing those two little words. Heart. Attack. He was right. That was the truth, whether I liked hearing it, whether I liked admitting it. The doctors believed the damage had repaired itself and that my heart was in pretty good shape, but maintaining the status quo required what they drolly referred to as “a lifetime commitment to heart health.”

  Keyword: lifetime.

  “You’re so goddamned lucky. And you don’t realize it.”

  “I do realize it.” Despite my efforts to keep cool, I was annoyed. “You think I don’t know how lucky I am?”

  How the hell could I miss it when everyone pointed it out so regularly?

  “You’re healthy. The healthiest I’ve ever known you. And that’s how I want it to stay. I want you around for a long, long time. I want to spend the next fifty years with you. I’m counting on spending the next fifty years with you. So please, for the love of God, don’t do anything to mess that up for us. Not everyone gets a second chance.”

  “I know it. Jesus, Jake. You don’t have to make me feel…”

  “Go on,” he said tersely.

  “I know what you’re saying, and I know why you’re saying it. You love me and want to protect me. I’m not— I also don’t want to waste— I want there to be some point—” I stopped because there are some things that are hard to talk about even to someone I loved and trusted as much as I did Jake.

  I think he understood because he said, “The last thing I want is to make you feel ill or helpless. You’re not. But you’re not invincible either. If you look for trouble, you’ll find it. You always do. Hell, you find it when you’re not looking for it.”

  Your aptitude for trouble.

  Guy’s Solstice gift was a sudden weight in my pocket.

  I stared at Jake and for the first time saw the lines of worry and stress around his eyes. Saw the shadows in his eyes. Saw that this wasn’t about territory or trespass. That it wasn’t about winning an argument for the sake of being right.

  I said wearily, “Okay.”

  Jake studied me narrowly. “Okay?”

  “Yes. Okay. You’re right. I should not be taking dumb chances. Especially if I’m taking them just to prove to myself I’m not afraid to take them anymore.”

  I don’t know if he followed that or not. I was still working out what I was trying to put into words. I didn’t want my gratitude for having a chance at a normal life to make me afraid to live that normal life?

  Not like amateur sleuthing was anyone’s definition of a normal life.

  Though surprised at my capitulation, Jake was never slow to press his advantage. “And as for Kevin, the best thing he could do right now is go home.”

  “He’s not going home.”

  “He’s not helping by staying here.”

  “I wouldn’t leave if you went missing.”

  Jake’s eyes seemed to darken. He said gruffly, “Okay. I’ll give you that one. And if you could manage to keep him from getting in the middle of my investigation again, that would genuinely be helpful.”

  I cupped my hand to my ear. “Wait. I didn’t catch that last word. Did I just hear you say my involvement would be helpful?”

  His lips twitched. “Smartass.”

  I was leaning forward to kiss him when tap, tap, tap!

  Someone rapped on the door frame of Jake’s office. Jake straightened so fast I’m surprised he didn’t throw his back out. I glowered at Natalie, who was hovering in the doorway, looking apologetic and defiant.

  “Yes?” I said.

  “Can I talk to you?”

  I’ve never had a girlfriend per se, but I’ve had several girls-who-are-friends in my life, plus I’ve now got three sisters, and I speak with confidence when I say if a female says Can I talk to you? in that high, wavery voice, there is trouble ahead.

  Big trouble.

  I stood up. “Did you call your dad? What’s wrong?”

  Natalie’s blue eyes flicked from me to Jake.

  Jake said, “You want me to leave?”

  “It’s your office.” I asked her, “Do you need to talk to me downstairs?”

  She shook her head. “You may as well both hear it. There isn’t going to be any hiding it.”

  “What it?” I said uneasily. “It what?”

  She threw a quick look down the hall, like she thought her enemies were closing in, then stepped the rest of the way into Jake’s office and closed the door. She leaned back against it.

  “I’m pregnant,” she said.

  “What?”

  She repeated in that scared, slightly hostile tone, “I’m pregnant.”

  “How?”

  I felt Jake look at me, and I said, “Okay. I know how. I mean…who? It can’t be Angus. Not this fast.”

  “It’s not that fast,” Jake said quietly. “Is it?”

  It was my turn to look at him. He was studying her with that closed, slightly cynical expression—what I thought of as his “cop face.”

  “No,” she admitted. “It’s been—we’ve been—for a while.”

  “How long a while?” I asked faintly.

  “Two months.”

  “Two…” I sat down on the desk again.

  “So whose kid is it?” Jake asked. “Warren’s or Angus’s?”

  Her face crumpled. “I don’t know! It could be either. Either of them could be the father.”

  “What the hell,” I said. “How the hell old are you? Didn’t you take precautions?”

  She began to cry. But it is the gift of Shaolin master girl arguers to cry and fight at the same time. “Of course I took precautions! Most of the time. That’s not the point!”

  “Most of the time? How most of the time could it have been if two guys could be the father?”

  “Okay,” Jake said, and that was definitely his cop voice. Break it up, people. I don’t want to have to arrest my boyfriend.

  “And speaking of fathers,” I said, “have you told Bill? Have you told Lisa? Have you told Angus?”

  Jake put a hand on my shoulder. Natalie burst out, “I’m telling you first!”

  For some reason, that disarmed me. Also the fact that she didn’t just look scared and angry, she looked so alone, pinned against the door.

  I shoved down my own anxiety and alarm, rose from the desk, and walked over to her, and I guess I looked suitably sympathetic because she howled, “Oh, Adrien, what am I going to do?” and hurled herself into my arms—much like Scout did when he was feeling the world was too much with him.

  “Don’t look at me. I have NO idea,” I said. Thankfully the words were only in my head and not in the surrounding airspace.

  “Are you keeping it?” I asked.

  She nodded her head against my shoulder. I felt a greater weight settle on me because I knew without a doubt this was about to become my fight. I was going to have to intercede with Lisa—maybe even with Bill—and I might have to intercede with Warren and/or Angus, depending on what kind of role she wanted or they wanted. A baby. I could think of nothing more terrifying. Then another weight settled on me—Jake’s arms wrapped around me and Natalie both in a rough group hug—only this weight was more of a supporting beam.

  Here was help and support for me and Natalie and this unborn kid.

  Natalie was saying, “I couldn’t talk to Daddy until I knew what I was going to do. If I was going to keep it or not. But I do want it. I don’t care about the rest of it. I won’t give it up. I know it’s going to be a mess with Warren—or Angus. Whichever.”

  “Probably both,” I couldn’t help saying.

  Jake gave me an extra squeeze.

  “So you can’t fire me. I need this job…”

&nb
sp; “I’m not going to fire you.” Oh God. I was going to have to give her a pay raise.

  “And if Angus gets weird about this…”

  “He’s not going to get weird.” Yeah, he probably would get weird. “You’re going to have to tell him, though. Like today.”

  “Warren’s going to want me to get rid of it.”

  Jake growled, “Warren can go fuck off.” Which wasn’t elegant, but pretty much summed up my feelings.

  “Daddy’s going to be so disappointed. Lisa will be disgusted.”

  Oh God.

  I took a deep breath. “I’ll talk to Bill and—”

  “No,” Jake cut in. He sounded sympathetic but firm. “This is Natalie’s call. Literally Natalie’s call to make. You can swoop in later with the diplomacy and tact, but Natalie’s going to be a mom, and she needs to establish her position now.”

  He quit hugging us, and we all took a step back. Natalie wiped her face and nodded. “I guess so.”

  “Yes,” Jake said. “Anyway, Adrien and I are going out of town this afternoon.”

  I looked at him in surprise. “We are?”

  “I got Ivor’s probable return route from O’Reilly. I want to try following it, and I thought you’d like to come. I figure on spending the rest of today and probably most of tomorrow on the road.”

  No way did I want him going without me. Though it was kind of short notice for my already frazzled staff. “It’s hard for me to leave just now.”

  “You weren’t even supposed to be home until Friday,” Jake pointed out. He stared meaningfully at Natalie.

  She looked blank and then said, “Oh. He’s right, Adrien. Anyway, it’s okay. It’s quiet today. I’ll talk to Angus.” She sighed. “And Daddy.” Bigger sigh. “And Warren.”

  “Is there a rush on talking to Warren?”

  Jake gave me a disapproving look, and I shrugged. “Okay. Yes. Warren deserves a heads-up too. I suppose.”

  “I’ll take care of it. All of it,” Natalie said bravely.

  “Okay,” I said doubtfully.

  “Good. Settled,” Jake said.

  Natalie continued to look brave.