Well, that was one of them.
Because, hell, who are we kidding? Isaac had all kinds of power to hurt me; always had.
“It’s not like you weren’t a willing accomplice,” I managed to say at last. If I kept my tone low and growly, my voice didn’t wobble. “You were right there every lawless step of the way.”
“Don’t I know it. I was too dumb to know better back then. I thought everything you did had to be right because you were doing it.” He glared at me.
“Really? Because you sure bitched and complained a lot for thinking I could do no wrong, Doctor Watson.”
His face got redder. Either one of us could probably have guided Santa’s sleigh by that stage of the proceedings. “That’s right. Somebody had to try and check your megalomaniac tendencies. Then and now.”
“So what you’re really saying is you’re never going to approve my application for a PI license? Is that right?”
“Not until you demonstrate some respect for the law.”
“Thank you very much,” I said.
Except I didn’t say thank you.
Officer Downey brought me a couple of blankets, a hot cup of coffee, and a plate of Christmas cookies. The cops on duty were making the best of a lousy shift, and she left the door to the front of the building open so I could hear the cheery holiday music wafting from the reception area.
I could also hear Isaac stomping around and giving orders. Police Chief Krampus himself. Eventually he left for the night. You could kind of feel all the life go out of the station when the door closed behind him.
I drank my coffee, ate my cookies—I recognized Isaac’s mom’s snowball recipe from way back—and finally rolled myself in my blankets and tried to think.
Was I really going to have to post bail to get out of jail? How the hell would I come up with the cash? How long would Isaac hold me here if I couldn’t make bail? How was I going to protect myself if I did make bail? Why did Isaac still refuse to believe me? Three attempts on my life in one week was kind of high, even for a former celebrated boy detective.
The Christmas lights from beyond the open door flashed red and green and white in a steady, monotonous heartbeat, and despite my worries, my eyelids grew heavy, heavier…
Chapter Four
Every celebrated boy detective has a nemesis, and Robert Beamer was mine.
In all honesty, Beamer had the upper hand in most of our dealings. Even after his family lost their fortune and his dad went to prison, his family was still richer than mine and he was always more popular than me. He managed to attend a snooty Ivy League college, and when he finally moved back to Hayvenhurst, he was greeted with open arms by everyone from the Chamber of Commerce to the City Council. He married Nancy Walker—the same Nancy Walker Isaac used to date—and took over her father’s real-estate business.
It was Ed’s idea to go after him, but I can’t deny I approved.
Ed Goodell owned the Goodell Agency. Chief Haas never liked Ed. Largely because he took it as a personal affront that anyone might believe additional criminal investigation could ever be needed in a town where he was police chief. And naturally, if Haas said it, Isaac agreed with it. So when Ed took me on as an operative, Isaac wasn’t happy.
Isaac never actually said I should give up the idea of being a PI, but since that was Chief Haas’s opinion, it was bound to be what he secretly thought.
I digress. Ed was the one who heard the rumors that Robert Beamer was engaging in less than aboveboard business practices under cover of the reputable Walker Realtor Company brand. I was the one who did the digging and began to uncover proof that Beamer was engaging in everything from home-improvement fraud to fraudulent loan origination.
It takes a while to build a case as complicated as ours, and in a town the size of Hayvenhurst, it was no surprise that some of Beamer’s business cronies tipped him off before we got too far along in our investigation. Good old Bobby with his five-hundred-dollar haircut and Italian loafers and cashmere coat toddled straight to Ed’s office and threatened to sue us both if we didn’t back off.
Ed told Bobby to talk to his lawyers. Bobby told me to wipe the smirk off my face. I laughed at him, and he took a swipe at me.
Well, I wasn’t that skinny little kid he pushed down the stairs in elementary school. I grabbed his arm and yanked him forward, and he smacked down on my desk—and broke his perfect nose.
Ed and I thought for sure we’d get a visit from Police Chief Ramsay after that. We didn’t. Instead, someone tried to run me down when I left the office that night.
Ed felt the fact that Beamer didn’t go to Isaac was a very good sign. When someone cut my brake lines a few days later, it felt like less of a good sign, and I went to Isaac.
Isaac heard me out with that hard, blank look he had taken to wearing whenever he ran into me at the market or the bank. When I came to a stop, he drawled, “Really, Merle? Now someone is trying to kill you?”
He made it sound like I was in his office every week with some new trumped-up excuse to see him. The truth was, I hadn’t spoken a word to him since he’d denied my application for my PI license. I hadn’t even returned his two gruff phone messages. Not that you could really consider “Call me back” a phone message.
“That’s right,” I replied, “and I’ve got a pretty good idea who.”
He raised his eyebrows in polite inquiry. “Oh? Let me guess. Robert Beamer?”
I could tell by his expression I was wasting my time. Either Beamer had already got to him, or he was so prejudiced against me, he couldn’t see I was telling the truth.
“That’s exactly right.”
“How can you be sure? You’ve brought so many villains to justice. I’m sure Candy Berry still wants revenge after the way you foiled her lunch-box caper in fourth grade.”
Can your entire body blush? I felt that wave of heat from my toes to the tips of my eyelashes. “Why are you always such a jerk to me?” I asked. “I’m trying to get my license. I’m doing real investigative work. What the hell else do you want?”
His chest rose and fell in a couple of hard, quick breaths, and I was afraid I was going to hear a whole list.
I said hurriedly, “Beamer is involved in real-estate fraud, and Ed and I are closing in on him. That’s why he wants me out of the way. This isn’t his first try. Last weekend—”
“Last weekend?” That seemed to make him all the madder. “Really? Then why didn’t you come to me last weekend?”
Because I didn’t think he’d believe me. “Because until today, last weekend could have been an accident. This wasn’t an accident. Vinnie Columbo confirmed my brake lines were cut.”
Police chiefs don’t roll their eyes, but I still got the message. “You don’t think maybe you’re a little biased? You’ve spent the last fourteen years referring to Beamer as your archenemy.”
“I was kidding,” I protested. “Usually. Are you seriously not even going to follow up on this?”
“Of course I’ll follow up on it. Why wouldn’t I jump the minute you call?” He scooped up a handful of folders and dropped them back on his desk. “I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Thank you,” I said shortly, and I did say thank you, though he still looked like he thought I’d said something else.
I woke to the sound of my cell door sliding open.
My eyes popped open, and I sat up.
“You can go,” Isaac said. He carried the frigid night air in with him. He still wore his parka, and the cold had brought points of color to his white face. He looked sick…strained.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
He stared at me. Nodded.
“No, you’re not. What’s wrong?” I threw back the blankets and stood up.
He reached in his pocket and held out a plastic evidence bag. Inside, something small glittered like broken glass. An earring.
“Still leaping to conclusions,” he said. “Robert Beamer didn’t try to kill you.”
<
br /> I couldn’t seem to tear my gaze from the evidence bag. Even through plastic, I could tell that was a real diamond. “Where did you find it?”
“In your backyard. It was at the base of the birdbath. She washed the bleach off her hands there.”
“How did you find it?” I didn’t want him to look like that. It took all my strength not to wrap my arms around him. I knew he wouldn’t want that. He’d made it clear a long time ago he didn’t want anything from me.
Isaac’s eyes looked like blue stones. “It’s called police work. I went to the scene of the crime, collected the evidence, and then I went to interview my suspect.”
“And she—Nancy—admitted it?”
“Yes. Eventually.”
“She knew what Robert was up to?”
“Yes.”
“She wanted me dead?”
“Nancy’s hated you since high school. Digging into Robert’s business was the final straw.”
I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry” was the best I could do.
It seemed to offend him. “Why? Why would you be sorry? You were right. Someone was trying to kill you. You were right about Beamer being involved in real-estate fraud as well. And you were right in that you were doing legitimate investigative work.”
“I’m sorry because of you.”
“Because of me?” Isaac gaped. “Since when? Suddenly you care about me? About my feelings? You must be concussed worse than Doc Waters thought.”
“I just mean—”
“I don’t care what you mean, Merle. I’m tired of trying to understand you. You’re free to go, so go. We’re going to bring Nancy back here, and the last thing we need is her running into you.”
It was four o’clock in the morning and still dark when I parked outside Isaac’s house.
I climbed out of my car and walked across the moon-glittered lawns around to the trampled and soggy back of my own place. Crime-scene tape was strung from one scorched bush to the other, marking off the perimeter. The air still smelled acrid and smoky. I studied the burnt-out shell of my office.
Isaac was right; most of the damage had been contained to the office space. It might not take more than a couple of weeks before I was able to move back in.
I went back to my car and settled down behind the wheel to wait.
It was after seven and the sun was making a wan appearance when Isaac pulled into his driveway.
I sat up and shoved the hair out of my eyes.
Isaac got out of his car and crunched across the frosty grass to my car. I pushed open my door and went to meet him halfway.
“Why didn’t you let yourself in? You know where the key is.” His blue eyes were a blaze of color in the gray, chilly morning.
“I don’t do that anymore,” I said.
He made an unconvinced sound but led the way to the side door, holding it open for me. I went up the steps and looked around.
It was warm inside and smelled of cookies. In other words, it seemed pretty much unchanged. All the things he’d moved from my house had gone right back into their original places. Like time had stood still. Maybe for me it had—and maybe for too long. When I looked at Isaac, he was watching me warily.
“It’s been a long night. What do you want?” he asked.
You. Always.
I swallowed the fear that made my mouth gummy, held my tongue in place. “About what you said at the station—” My voice still sounded raspy and smoky.
He grimaced, shook his head. “I was tired. That’s all.”
But of course that wasn’t all. It was only the beginning of what he wanted to say to me. We both knew it.
Almost reluctantly, he asked, “How are you feeling? How’s your head?”
My head hurt, but not nearly as much as my heart. “Fine,” I said briskly. “Most celebrated boy detectives get blown up at least a couple of times during their careers. I was overdue.”
“Merle.” He sounded so weary.
I stared at his tired, drawn face. I loved that face more than any other face in the world. I couldn’t have stopped the words even if I’d wanted. “Why did you move out?”
Isaac had been avoiding my eyes, but at that his gaze locked onto mine. He countered, “Why didn’t you ask me to stay?”
“Because…I figured you wanted to go.”
“Then that’s the answer, isn’t it?” There was no softening in his expression. No yielding.
I wanted to match his tone, but my own gave too much away. “Is it?”
“No, of course it isn’t! You shut me out, Merle. We were living in the same building, but we weren’t living in the same house. We weren’t sharing a home anymore. You wanted me gone. I went.”
“I didn’t want you gone,” I broke in. “I never wanted that.”
“You didn’t lift a finger to stop it.”
“I didn’t know how.”
Isaac gave a funny, twisted smile. “Yes, you did. You’re not the only sleuth in town. I know you were angry that I didn’t see things your way. That I went against you. You couldn’t forgive it.”
There was some truth to it. I had been angry, and I had been hurt. I hadn’t wanted him to go, though. I had wanted…what?
What had Sherlock Holmes said to Watson in Silver Blaze?
How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?
I’d wanted Isaac to show he cared that I was angry and hurt.
I expelled a long breath. “I thought you were on my side. It hurt when I saw you weren’t.”
Isaac’s face twisted as though he was in pain. “Merle, do you really not see that I am always on your side? That doesn’t mean I’m always going to agree with you. It doesn’t mean I’m not going to tell you when I think you’re wrong. It doesn’t mean we’re not going to argue. I don’t want to be your sidekick. I’ve been trying to tell you that for twenty-two years. It’s equals or nothing. It’s partners or nothing. And I guess it’s going to be nothing, since you can’t—”
I crossed the distance between us, clamped my hands on his shoulders, and covered his mouth with mine.
When we had to stop for breath, I said, “Yes, I can.”
Epilogue
Twelve hours later, I fell back on the pillows and said, “I heard bells that time.”
Isaac chuckled. “Those were church bells, you nut. It’s seven o’clock.”
“Ah-ha.”
He laughed again.
I smiled and settled my head next to his on the pillow. The best day of my life, and I’d spent most of it sleeping. But then sleeping with Isaac was still better than doing anything else with somebody else.
Through my lashes I could see his smiling profile. “How do we make sure this doesn’t happen to us again?” I asked.
He turned his head to kiss my forehead. “I was kind of hoping it would happen again.”
“Not this. The year that preceded it.”
He sighed. “We’re going to fight sometimes. That’s the truth. We don’t always see eye to eye. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It doesn’t mean I’m not on your side.”
I nodded.
He turned his head to study my face. “I’ve loved you most of my life. I can’t imagine a time I won’t love you. Even when I want to kill you.”
“It’s the same for me. These last months…” I closed my eyes. The memory would always be painful.
Isaac said softly, “All you ever had to say was don’t go.”
I opened my eyes. Studied his face. Isaac’s eyes met mine steadily, unwaveringly. “Really?”
“Of course. When I heard that bomb go off yesterday evening—” He stopped. When he spoke again his voice sounded thick. “I think my heart stopped. It felt like my life had ended, but my body was still moving. I really thought you were dead.”
“You didn’t show it.”
The gravity of his face gave way to a slow, sweet smile. “No? And you call yourself a
detective?”
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About the Author
Author of over sixty titles of classic Male/Male fiction featuring twisty mystery, kickass adventure, and unapologetic man-on-man romance, JOSH LANYON’S work has been translated into eleven languages. Her FBI thriller Fair Game was the first Male/Male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, then the largest romance publisher in Italy. Stranger on the Shore (Harper Collins Italia) was the first M/M title to be published in print. In 2016 Fatal Shadows placed #5 in Japan’s annual Boy Love novel list (the first and only title by a foreign author to place on the list). The Adrien English series was awarded the All Time Favorite Couple by the Goodreads M/M Romance Group.
Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist (twice for Gay Mystery), and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads All Time Favorite M/M Author award.
Josh is married and lives in Southern California.
Find other Josh Lanyon titles at www.joshlanyon.com
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If you enjoyed this story, check the following titles by Josh Lanyon
Novels
The ADRIEN ENGLISH Mysteries
Fatal Shadows
A Dangerous Thing
The Hell You Say
Death of a Pirate King
The Dark Tide
Stranger Things Have Happened
So This is Christmas
The HOLMES & MORIARITY Mysteries
Somebody Killed His Editor
All She Wrote
The Boy with the Painful Tattoo
The ALL’S FAIR Trilogy
Fair Game
Fair Play
Fair Chance
The ART OF MURDER Trilogy
The Mermaid Murders
The Boy Next Door Page 3