by C. S. Poe
“Very funny.”
“Poe died under mysterious circumstances, didn’t he?” Max asked as he walked up to the counter beside me, taking the moneybag and putting the change into the register.
“Yes, why?”
“Maybe a curse killed him.”
“Oh, don’t start, Max.” I shook my head and walked down the steps.
“Hey,” he called, leaning over the counter to watch me go toward the door. “Since when do you call that detective by his first name?”
I paused and turned around. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”
I couldn’t see Max’s expression all that well from afar, but I figured he had to be grinning when he said, “You slept with him.”
“W-What!”
“Damn, Seb. The sheets from Neil aren’t even cool yet.”
“Don’t joke about that.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?”
“I… may… have,” I muttered. “A little.”
“How was he?”
“Max, keep it in your pants and cover the shop. I’ll be back in an hour.” I stopped by the front door, rushing to put my coat and scarf back on.
“I wish you weren’t colorblind!” Max called. “I need to know if the carpet matches the drapes!”
“For the love of God, Max!”
I TOOK a taxi to the address on Calvin’s business card, which I now carried in my wallet. I had thought I’d be doing him a favor, coming to drop off suspicious evidence so he wouldn’t need to drive over to me, but once I walked into the precinct, I wasn’t so sure. Like so many of my ideas, I hadn’t thought this one through. Would he even want to see me after yesterday? Could he separate professional and private life enough to be gentle with me as the officer involved in my—this—case?
The lights of the building were excruciatingly bright, and I had to keep my sunglasses on.
“Can I help you?” a woman at the front desk asked in an already-impatient tone. She was destined to have a shitty rest of the day with that attitude.
“Is Detective Winter in?”
“He’s always in. Who’s asking?” She picked up the desk phone and stared expectantly.
“Uh, Snow. Sebastian Snow.”
“Hold on.” She dialed an extension, waited a beat, then said, “Sebastian Snow at the front desk. Fine, sure.” She hung up and motioned down the hall. “Elevator.”
I looked over there. “To where?”
She waved impatiently at a billboard beside the elevator.
“Appreciate the help,” I muttered, walking away.
I scanned the list of names and departments, finding “Winter, Calvin, Homicide” on the third floor. I stepped into the elevator and was joined by several other men in suits before the doors closed. I kept my head ducked, staring at the dying flowers in the bag.
“Mr. Snow?”
I knew that voice. That was Calvin’s partner. I looked up, then down. “Good morning, Detective Lancaster.”
She gave me a grin. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
“For me or you?”
Lancaster chuckled quietly, like the idea that I was happy to see her in particular really just teased her funny bone. “Smooth.”
I glanced at the other men in the elevator. None of them were smiling.
“Can’t say I expected to see you step into a police precinct,” Lancaster continued.
“Er—me neither.” I gripped the bag tighter.
“You’re going up to see Calvin, I presume?” she asked.
I caught one of the other guys look at us. He gave me a once-over and sneered while looking away. Huh. That was probably not good. Did Lancaster know Calvin was gay? Did these other detectives?
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I told her.
When the elevator doors slid open on the third floor, Lancaster walked out with me and pointed across an open area at several desks with detectives seated at them. “Across the room, down that hall. It’s the first office on the left.”
“Do you… share an office?”
“Yeah.” She gave me a sort of friendly slap on the shoulder, but Lancaster was stronger than she looked and it shoved me forward. “Not my destination, though. You’re safe.”
“Uh.”
“Speak of the devil.” Lancaster motioned across the room at a figure who exited a door and stood in the hallway. It couldn’t be anyone but Calvin.
Oh boy.
I said good-bye to Lancaster and took a breath before walking across the room. I watched Calvin slowly come into focus as I approached. He was leaning against the wall, strong arms crossed firmly over his chest. He wore a tie but no suit coat, and I was able to get a good look at the shoulder holster he wore.
Man, he was probably going to shoot me for coming here.
“Hi,” I said quietly as I reached the hallway.
Calvin didn’t say anything. He straightened and took a step back, motioning me into a room.
It was tiny, mostly taken up with two cramped desks, chairs, and filing cabinet. Despite the lack of space, it was clean and orderly, to the point of it being near ridiculous. The lights snapped off from overhead and the only light was the gray overcast coming in through the window behind the computer chair.
“Oh, thanks,” I said, starting to turn around.
“Thanks,” someone mimicked nearly the same time as me.
Beside the door was a massive gray bird on a perch. “What the hell?”
Calvin shut the door behind him as he entered. “What are you doing here?” he asked forcefully.
I glanced back at him, then to the bird once or twice. “Nice parrot. Yours?”
“Answer the question.”
“Jesus, am I being interrogated?” I asked, looking up and pushing back my sunglasses.
Calvin didn’t appear to be in a good mood. “I asked what you’re doing here, Sebastian.”
“I heard you already,” I remarked while pulling my regular glasses from my coat and putting them on. “I have something to show you.”
“And you decided it would be wise to come here?”
“I… thought it would save you time,” I replied slowly. I took a breath, steadying myself. “I know you’re angry about yesterday.”
“This isn’t about yesterday.”
“Not about that part when I told you to screw yourself?”
Calvin narrowed his eyes. “What do you need to show me?”
I handed over the bag. “Your bird looks sick,” I commented when Calvin had taken the offering and I looked back at the parrot.
“It’s not mine. And he keeps pulling his feathers out.”
I made a face. “Poor bird.”
The parrot cocked his head to the side and stared at me.
“Whose is it?”
Calvin looked up from the bag’s contents. “What?” He sounded on the verge of exasperation, which was a complete turnaround from his bedroom demeanor.
“Wrong side of the bed this morning or what?”
Calvin cleared his throat. “Sebastian, you came to my place of work unannounced.”
“You do the same with me.”
“I’m a cop. It’s different.”
“What the hell? If you’d rather not investigate the ongoing harassment I’ve been receiving, I’ll deal with it myself.” I grabbed for the bag, but he held it out of reach. “Why are you being such an asshole this morning?”
“I’m not.”
I snorted. “Then this is just your attitude prior to coffee?”
Neither of us moved, but the sudden tension coming off Calvin was palpable. It was as if he were building a brick wall right in front of me. Keeping me at a distance. A safe distance.
It was like a lightbulb turning on. “You’re afraid someone will peg you as gay for just being around me, aren’t you?”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is,” I retorted. “Does Lancaster know?”
“No.”
“Don
’t be so sure.”
Calvin ignored the jab and raised the bag. “What is this?”
“The fuck does it look like?”
“Don’t get uppity with me,” he demanded.
The bird suddenly squawked loudly. Calvin jumped at the noise, glaring at the bird as it proceeded to make sounds similar to words, but not quite understandable. I’d seen him jump like that a few times now.
Stress from the case? I knew he wasn’t sleeping a lot.
I didn’t ask, though. He was already angry and defensive. I pointed at the bird. “Really, why is there a bird in here?”
“Ben belonged to Merriam Byers.”
“The banker?”
Calvin nodded. “Whatever garbled sentence that is, he’s been screeching it nonstop. Now tell me about these flowers.”
“There’s a note in there too.”
“Sebastian.”
I was staring at Ben the African grey while saying, “They were on my register this morning when I unlocked the shop. And no, before you ask, it definitely wasn’t Max.”
“Can his movements be accounted for yesterday?” Calvin asked.
“His movements?” I echoed before laughing sarcastically. “Is he a suspect? Yes, my dad was with him yesterday at the Emporium.”
Calvin paused for an extra beat before asking, “And Millett?”
My heart thumped hard once against my chest and then fell into my stomach. I looked up. “What about him?”
“These aren’t from him? You said you’ve been fighting.”
“Neil would never apologize with flowers.”
In the silence that followed, I couldn’t figure out why I just didn’t tell him we had broken up. It felt important that Calvin know—that his assessment of me was correct and that I wasn’t a man who screwed around behind his loved ones’ backs. That I had had the courage to do the right thing. That I was available.
Except that being single again wasn’t vital knowledge to share with Calvin, because he still hadn’t indicated an interest in dating, and I’m really not the sort to just “have fun” together. Besides, how many times already had I told myself to commit to me for a change? Be happy with myself for a while, and don’t jump immediately at a new boyfriend, especially another cop.
Another terrified-to-be-out cop.
Calvin was talking again, but I spoke over him and asked, “How deep in the closet are you?”
He blinked and raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”
“I mean, are you hanging out with the shoes, or are you so far in the back, you’re with your tuxedo from junior prom and you stink of moth balls?”
“How very literal of you, Sebastian,” he stated dryly.
“I’m being serious.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I think it’s a little my business, considering the sex we had.”
Ben started screeching again.
I could now see why Calvin was at wit’s end. I glared at the bird myself before catching the word it kept repeating. “Book.”
“What?”
I held my hand up and listened as Ben repeated the phrase before scrubbing in an agitated manner at its feathers. “Three words, I think. Dun, dun, book. Who’s the—Where’s the book?”
“How can you tell?” Calvin asked.
“You know, one sense is weak, so the others compensate,” I replied. “I’ve got excellent hearing.”
“You don’t say?” he asked. “Then which book are we talking about?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exceptional detective work, Sherlock,” Calvin concluded.
“Wow, you’re such an asshole today.”
“Someone has access to your shop’s security code,” Calvin said, ignoring the comment as he raised the bag up to stress his point. “You said only you had it.”
“Okay, I lied.”
“Who else knows it, Sebastian?”
“Neil and my dad. Oh, and the crazed Edgar Allan Poe killer, of course. Did I not mention that one?” I tapped my chin thoughtfully.
Calvin dumped the bag onto his desk, turning the note over carefully by the corner. He read the scrawled message in silence. “Threats and love notes.”
“Sounds like my second boyfriend,” I joked.
“You’re a riot, Sebastian.”
“Remember to tip your waitress.”
Calvin crossed his arms and looked back at me. “What do you know about this note?”
I shrugged. “It’s a line from Poe’s poem ‘Tamerlane.’” When Calvin failed to respond, I asked, “What?”
“Is ‘Tamerlane’ a book by him too?”
“No, it’s just a poem,” I said. “Well, if memory serves me correct, he released it and a few other poems on their own and it was called Tamerlane, so yeah, technically you’re right.”
Calvin moved around me, went to his filing cabinet, pulled out a large folder, and flipped through the hefty contents.
“What did I say?”
“Do you know a Gregory Thompson?”
“Should I?”
“He’s a member of the antiquing community.”
“Well, it’s not like we all get together for drinks on Tuesday evenings,” I replied. “He’s in the city?”
“Marshall’s Oddities,” Calvin answered as he turned to stare at me, folder still in hand.
“Oddities. Yeah, I know that shop. I’ve met the guy once before, then.”
“And?”
I raised my hands. “And what? If I recall, he was a bit of a jerk.”
“Seems other antique shops have a problem with you.”
“Oh no, Oddities just opened. He’s new to the scene,” I said. “He gave me grief because of some deal I offered a client for whatever silly trinket they were selling. I hardly remember the details. It was early this year.”
“It seemed to me he deals in similar items as you.”
“He does. Or tries, anyway.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, my clientele is growing every year, that’s all. Take from that what you will. What does this have to do with anything?”
Calvin shut the folder and set it carefully on his desk. “Mr. Thompson claims to have received a disturbing phone call, demanding to hand over ‘Tamerlane.’”
I considered this information carefully, knowing Calvin shouldn’t have been sharing it, and I wanted to learn more. “When did he get the phone call?”
“Yesterday.”
“And?”
Calvin looked at me. “And what?”
“You think something is off about it, don’t you?”
“How did you guess?”
“I don’t know. I never received any phone call. Mike neither, right?”
Calvin shook his head. “But you both received letters in the mail. I’m trying to get records of Mr. Thompson’s phone.”
“Do you think this psycho is escalating?”
“Maybe,” Calvin admitted. “But it doesn’t seem right. He’s always kept himself hidden behind Poe’s work. His threats—love notes—it’s all to do with Poe. He’s never admitted to being himself, never disengaged from the writing.”
“Do you think Mr. Oddities is making it up?”
“I’ve considered it, but we’ve kept this pretty wrapped up. I don’t know how he would have gotten these details.”
“This guy seems to be striking at all of the antique shops in the city, then. Maybe—wait, did Gregory tell you exactly what the man said on the phone?”
Calvin stared at me for a moment before opening the folder again and flipping through several pages. “Where’s the book,” he read. “He said the voice was distorted and difficult to make out, sounded like there was some weeping, then it ended with the man screaming for ‘Tamerlane’ and hanging up.”
And then it hit me like a bullet train going full speed.
“Jesus,” I heard myself say. “That’s why… that’s why he went to Merriam.”
Calvin
narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Merriam—I told you, she was the woman I worked with on the estate sale. Holy shit. Cal, the lot I won from the bid was for all of the antique books. He had to have known her connection with the sale and tried to pry from her who the store owners were that purchased all of the belongings.
“And the bird,” I continued, pointing at Ben. “That—where’s the book? Tamerlane. He’s asking about Tamerlane the book. She must not have told him which antique shops bid on the books, so he’s just been harassing all of us. And Beth’s bookshop—she put in a bid and won all of the paperbacks.”
I could see Calvin’s mind running a mile a minute now. “Do you have this book in your possession?”
I shook my head. “No. Max has been cataloging the books in the shop. He hasn’t come across anything by Poe.”
“Then Beth got it.”
“No, she got romance novels. Gay romance novels.”
Calvin put a firm hand on my shoulder and pushed me to the door. “I need you to go.”
“What? But—”
“Sebastian, I need to get on this right now.”
“You wouldn’t have put two and two together without me.”
“I’m the cop. I appreciate your help, but let me do my job.”
“What about the message from this morning?” I pointed at his desk.
“I’ll deal with it.”
“Calvin.”
“Baby, leave.”
To say I felt slighted was an understatement. I stormed out of the precinct while putting my sunglasses on. I shoved my hands into my pockets and walked toward the end of the block, away from the parked police cruisers and uniformed officers on break.
“Snow!”
I halted from crossing the street and turned around. Lancaster was leaning against the wall of a bakery, smoking a cigarillo away from where other officers would bother her. “Detective?”
“Where you off to in such a rush?”
I shrugged lamely.
She pushed away from the wall and walked toward me. “Mind walking around the block with me?” Lancaster didn’t give me a real choice because she put a firm hand on my elbow and directed me away from the street. “I guess I should have warned you.”
“About what, ma’am?”
She snorted and put the cigarillo to her lips briefly. “Calvin. He’s in a mood today.”